YummyYummy

The Hourglass Order

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Velles 19th

_{Location: Ersand'Enise
Day of the week: Victendes
Time: Daytime
Characters: Abdel, Dayanara, Qadira, Seviin @Force And Fury, Penny, Johann, Xiuyang @Emeth, Lunara @BlackRoseSiren, Niallus @Echotech71, Oksana @Ti, Ashon, Dory @jasbraq, Fibonacci, shady Zeno.}

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When it was Abdel’s turn to read the document, he feigned indifference. The name Doridax was well known among the Yasoi and the decently informed. The young tethered had cut back on his part-time investigative endeavours for more spare time once his finances were in order but the connections he had made on the job remained solid.

A rich kid in Belleville. It feels tailored for me. he looked up to give a general glance to his potential associates. All were of a higher class or foreigners. Except perhaps for Ashon whose Yasoi-ness would have its boons, and Seviin should there be any sort of Tarlonese encounter. I’ve got a good hand here. Let’s see where this goes.

“I can check with a couple of guys I know, see if they can give us something more about any unusual activities in Mud- Belleville.” Abdel spoke courteously with a consistent air of neutrality befitting the image he sought to project: Normal and non-partisan. The money was good, but the Doridax name could be a pipeline to things money couldn’t buy. Goods and information alike. He smiled at the others, to Seviin in particular. “But I agree with you, Sister. I think this city is in need of more citizen behaviour. We did put our necks on the line for it.”

With that he turned away from them. “We can meet at that Terrace in a couple of hours and work from there. Gear up and all that until then.” with that, Abdel walked away.

---

“At least three thousand magi? Really?” a flabbergasted Abdel Varga was sitting before an old table in front of a Thalak souvlaki shop, Zeno Bucks in hand, with a middle-aged gentleman wearing a worker’s beret.

“Not just. I'll I've been sitting on this but I do owe ya' after what you did for my kid.” spoke the man with a husky voice. He leaned in to whisper the next bit. “They’ve taken a few gems that didn’t belong to them from monkey-land.” he snorted and spat by his foot at the mention of anything Yasoi.

Abdel, unfazed by any additions made by his contact, peered at the old parchment piece covered in folds. “And this is legit?”

“Sikes and a few others say they’ve seen some Yasoi kid a few times. As far as I can tell, the kid never made it back over the wall.”

The tethered teen bit the nail of his thumb as he pondered. Their meeting was soon and he had to make a decision. “Wouldn’t hurt to check, then.” he concluded with a shrug before chugging down his drink.

“Hey Cap’n Skugg.” the man that reeked of tobacco reached out for Abdel’s shoulder as he stood up. “With this sort o’ money at play, you may wanna watch your back.” the warning was enough to get the young bounty hunter to sit back down. “It’s bound to get many eyes on it soon. And if you’re going to belleville …” he looked over his shoulder, clearly wary.

“Spit it out, Fibonacci.”

“Watch out for these long-ear Cola-guys. Complete ball-breakers. If they’re not behind it they’ll definitely want a piece of that cake.”

An unimpressed Abdel cocked his brows. “I’ll be sure to watch out.”

---

Armed with two Skuggvars and an attire that made him appear no different than the average workman’s quarters dred, although with much better hygiene, Abdel presented himself to the residence indicated on the invitation. He instinctively removed his worker’s beret once in view of it, revealing well groomed, dark hair he had combed to the side. His perfume was also of higher quality than his projected look - a Maura perk, perhaps?

The two beasts he had with him dismissed any notion of Abdel being just a common street dweller - this was the hunter with the massive hounds, one that was hard to ignore when he was on duty. “I was told some folks needed a person finder?” was his introduction, one he had used a few times before when he found a job, with a toothy smile that went wonders with his growing acne on his chin.

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_{Loadout:
Gear: Hungering Helm, Slayer's Helm, Black Beast's Blade, Unruly Dragon's Bridle, Screamer's Collar, Skuggvar backpacks.
Currency: Ỽ1
Consumables: Risotto al Formaggio di Capra di Mare.
Familiars: Dayanara, Qadira}

The Hourglass Order

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It was early in the afternoon following the Trials. The closing ceremony had been a fiasco, with sonic mages drowning out the crowd's whistles and boos with canned applause. Marceline had no love for Perrence and its aggressive brand of nationalism, but they had a right to be angry and, at the end of the day, the academy's corruption had been laid plainly bare for all to see. Then, portals had opened and people had gone home, but not all of them. A solid half had stayed and would be here for at least another couple of days.

Some would be at the party. In fact, almost everyone who was someone would be. That was why she was here, in Zarina's backyard, setting up tables. The pets were playing. The sky threatened rain just enough to make her apprehensive, and that, in turn, was enough to make her forget her greater apprehension. She and Tku had baited the bull during the auction. Juulet would be coming for her at some point. She had all of the pieces ready. Now, she just needed to put them into place and execute the plan. She turned to Zarina. "So, what did we need from The Groove, again?" she asked, "I'm probably gonna head there once the tables are done." She glanced up at the clouds for a moment and then back at her friend.

“Uhh, like, the power to conquer the sun. And maybe some magic wine.” answered Zarina as she was rehearsing the roles of her animals for the party. Always keen on putting the family to work in the traditional Virangish style, it seemed her past experiences were transferable to the education of beasts. “If you can find some helper demon, or somehow bring a small ab here for a quick energy boost, I'm game too. But otherwise? I just need more Champagne, mi hermana.”

Osman's training was paying off, and as Marci was preparing for her departure, a successful delivery of wine and shrimp-on-cream biscotti was made. The confused mollusk had its beady, dark eyes look up to Marci expectantly.

Quickly, still bustling about, Marceline responded in kind to Zarina's teasing remarks. Then, ambushed as she was about to leave, she reached into the little pouch she'd taken to carrying around for Domino and pulled out a treat for Osman. "I guess you've earned this, huh, little guy?" She nodded in Zarina's direction and hurried upstairs, bounding the steps two at a time. It came with an ease and agility she could not have imagined two years prior when it seemed as if she were headed for a short life mostly spent confined to a wheelchair.

She made her way to her desk, caught her breath, and grabbed some paper and a quill. Dipping it in ink, she began writing.

Dear Zarina,

The first thing I want to say is sorry. I'm writing this because I don't know how to say it to your face and I'm worried that you'll try to stop me if I do. You're probably standing outside of our secure deposit box doing the weekly pickup right now. When you get home, we'll talk. Until then, I ask that you listen.

By now, there's a good chance that Juulet is either dead or there was an attempted murder against her. That was me. I didn't do it out of hot-blooded anger or some sense of justice. I didn't ask others, except for Fiske, to get involved, because I didn't want to put them in danger. In this case, the less that you knew, the safer you were. You've... always been the big wing under which I've nestled, the big sister protecting me, ever since we met. I never had a blood sister and you're better than any I could've ever asked for anyhow. I didn't tell you nothing because I don't trust you; I'm telling you now because I do.

This was something personal, though, and if I've been caught, then the consequences are mine alone to bear. In short, she murdered Manfred. It was Juulet. Dami knows she's done all manner of horrible things since. She tried to kill Fiske and, I'm quite certain, Xiuyang too but, first, she was there in Mandelein when Manfred, Ismette, and Qasem died. Dory was the only survivor of that ambush and, irrationally, I suspected her at one point. Then Jocasta confirmed that she'd seen Juulet too. Forgiveness doesn't matter here. It's about the danger that she represents. Juulet is a mad dog who needs to be put down, for our collective safety and because she took Manfred from me.

I know there was some speculation as to why I took the items that I did from The Trials and, hopefully, it's clear now why I did: the magic disruptor because, without the Gift, she's just some skinny one-legged girl with a god complex and twisted black heart, and the twenty-five hour copy of myself so that, if she somehow overcame that, it wouldn't actually be me dying during the ensuing rampage. I'd just have the awful memories from it. Here's hoping that didn't happen. Yes, I'm committing murder. No, I don't do it lightly. Sometimes, bad people need to go away, or be made to, and it doesn't just happen. Good people or, at least, people like me need to do it.

I'm sorry for telling you this way, big sis. I just love you and I was worried you'd try to talk me out of it and I'd listen even though I feel, right now, in my bones so strongly, that she needs to die for what she's done and the threat that she represents. You're just... so good-hearted. You're the best. I mean that, from the bottom of my twisted black little heart.

Love,
Marceline Hoh Escarra

With that, she let it dry for a moment, folded it up, and sealed it in an envelope. She grabbed the keys to the box on her way downstairs, offered a cheery wave goodbye, and issued a promise to be back soon with the goodies. Ten minutes later, she'd left the envelope where it would wait until Lepdes. She took a deep breath, turned about, and headed for The Groove.

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♫

Zarina stood motionless before the opened letter box she or Marci checked every week or so, although the recent revolution had delayed the habit by a few days. Her eyes were wide, hollow and fixed on the unfolded letter. Her hands became clammy from holding the same position for well over five minutes and her back wasn’t appreciating the posture either. Eventually, as the reality of its contents set into the tired teen’s mind, her hands began to shake and her heart rate skyrocketed.

Marci is Dead.

That was all that rang in Zarina’s mind. That was the only way to explain what had happened. To suffer another loss in which she was completely powerless was utterly devastating.

Once again, she could do nothing to save her sister.

Lethargic, Zarina zoned everything out. The paper fell to her feet and many passersby stared in her direction in silent worry.

Marci cannot be dead.

Her next mantra sprang life back into her paralyzed body. She broke the unspoken convention of keeping temporal magic under wraps and brazenly teleported from to the limit of her range until she reached the one place she knew she could find information on Marceline’s whereabouts.

BONK BONK BONK

The pinkie-side of her fist pounded against the door of the commons dorm many of the Tethered lived in. “IZZY! LUISA! FELIX!” she yelled out with no regard as to how angry she sounded. Dangerous even. If she did not get what she wanted there, she had another, far less pleasant lead to exploit.

While Isabella did not live here anymore, Luisa was home. "Zarina! What is it!?" The door unbolted itself and the door swung open. Her eyes flicked up and down the unexpected visitor for a second or so, her expression one of worry.

Zarina stared at the wheelchair-bound girl that opened the door. She had the attention of the tenants. Now what?

“...” she needed a moment to catch her breath. “Marci ...” the Virangish's voice was meek and gravelly from the exertion. “Do you know where she is?”

For a moment, Luisa studied her, hands moving from her wheels to her lap and fingers threading themselves together. She swallowed. "You think she's dead?" the girl asked with some worry.

Zarina closed her eyes and let her head slump down. “Gods, I hope not, Luisa. But something did happen.” she looked up through her hanging hair toward the girl on two. “Something bad. You don't know where she is, then?” a rhetorical question. She slammed her fist to the door frame, magicless of course. “Fuck. I need to speak to Jo, then.”

"You should," Luisa confirmed. "Listen, Zazz." She took a push forward and reached up to rest a hand on the other's forearm. "I can't just say nothing. I can't leave you in the dark." She shook her head. "I don't know much, okay? Marci... messed with that yasoi maniac - I don't know why - and she lost. She's not alright but she is alive. Jocasta and Izzy have been looking after her."

Answers. All kept from her. It felt like betrayal. Wide eyes shot toward Luisa. “You all knew. Fucking ...” she unleashed steam out of her nostrils as a furious scowl took form on her visage. She really wanted to unleash something, somewhere with Luisa as an easy target. But she had an answer, and the girl looked racked by guilt already.

Wordlessly, Zarina turned around and disappeared. Jocasta's was next with twice as many rude knocks on the door.

There was absolutely no answer.

Zarina grit her teeth. Then, for a moment, she actually used her head. A little drawing was in order.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, and then there was so much energy that it felt as if she was under a thousand feet of water. Jocasta appeared behind Zarina and reached out a hand for her. "Come in. Sit down. Behave," she commanded, "and I will tell you what I am allowed."

Crushed. Utterly so. That was the almighty power of Jocasta.

The respect Zarina had for this woman was immense, but it would never be enough to pardon the condescension she felt in this moment. The angered wildblood had been forcibly pacified, but a look of resentment couldn't be so easily scrubbed off her visage. Still, she took the hand and found the nearest seat to compose herself after taking the Jojo blast.

“Where is she?” she asked plainly, slumped forward with her arms rested over her knees and her chest still heaving.

"Safe from prying eyes, where she needs to be right now. Where she's asked to be." Jocasta answered simply. "I'm sorry you weren't told. The world's been a bit crazy this last week and... she's struggling."

“Prying eyes? Ya'hma. I'm not just some random prying eyes, Jo.” responded Zarina, indignant. “What the fuck happened?”

Jocasta sighed, opening the door and floating in ahead of Zarina until she was seated in her wheelchair once again. "She made a twenty-five hour copy, but those things are exactly alike, down to clothing, thoughts, and impulses. I wasn't aware either until I'd checked." She pursed her lips and set hands to wheels, twisting halfway to head for the dining room. "I think she was convinced that she was the copy. She had a plan. It went awry. Here we are."

Zarina shook her head. The explanation did not make her feel any better. “I want to see her.” she demanded. “I want to be there for her. I need to, Jo.” she looked up to the Tan-Zeno with a mixture of immense frustration and growing desperation.

"First, Zarina, come here." She turned back and held out her arms for an embrace. "I'm sorry for the sudden crush. You were roiling with energy and anger and..." She paused. "I can't take chances anymore." She waved Zarina in with her hands. "Hug me. I need it too. Then we'll talk, okay?"

The anger was still there. It was painful to keep it all in. The hesitation to come in for the hug spoke volumes of how she truly felt.

But she still went in, her long arms coiling around the seat-bound blonde and lifted her slightly for a tight embrace. “I'm sorry.” she whispered, mouth and nose buried into Jocasta's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too, Zazzy." She squeezed tightly for a moment and sighed before releasing her friend. "I was scared." She backed up a push and turned. "Follow me. We walk and talk." She glanced over her shoulder. "Marceline doesn't want to see you." She held up a hand to forestall immediate protest. "It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her." She shrugged tightly. "She barely wants to see me."

Zarina walked with her friend and listened. She kept her head lowered and her eyes narrowed slightly. She focused on every piece of information, and after clarifications and corrections, she found something to pick at. “But you still see her.” she said, bitterly. “So does Izzy. Why can't I see her? Even once?”

Jocasta took a deep breath and, all at once, she whirled on the spot. She stared up at Zarina, a dozen emotions flashing across her face. "She was forced to overdraw." She glanced down sadly at her lap. "You know what that does to tethered, and she is a tethered, whether she wants to admit it or not."

Zarina stopped and looked down to meets eyes with Jocasta. “You lose yourself faster.” she confirmed, arms crossed. “If you're all doing this then it's much worse than the feet getting prickly.” she clenched her fists and shook her head. “Doesn't change shit, I wanna be there for her. Same way you were.”

Jocasta took a deep breath and released it, her face regretful. She nodded. "She's..." She glanced to the side and her fingers squeezed the folds of her dress so tightly that it bunched up. Her gaze shot up to meet Zarina's. "Like me now, Zarina. She's on two and there's no reversing it and it's ruined her."

Confronted with the severity of the situation, she stood adamant with only her breathing getting louder - heavier. “... All the reason for her sister to be there.” she turned and began to walk again, stone cold and clearly bottling a lot inside. “Then I'll find that little rat that didn't stop her.” she muttered with unadulterated rage in her voice.

"Zarina," came Jocasta's voice from behind her, "Do you love Marci?"

Zarina stopped again. “Of course.”

"And so do I." Jocasta rolled up behind her. "Do you trust our sister?

Zarina exhaled loudly. “After this? I don't know.”

"Do you trust me, sister?"

“I do.” Zarina spoke with more confidence. “I always did.”

♫

"Then listen to me, okay? Losing half of your body like this -" She ran the edge of her hand across her tiny waist. "Is like nothing you can imagine. It's not just the inability to walk, but basic, bedrock things: your independence as a person, your sense of what makes you... you, your vision of the future and what your life will look like, the way you know other people see you and how you're always the one who's different, lower, pitied."

She shook her head. "Zarina, I use the Gift to turn myself over in bed and lift my rear off of my seat every hour so that my bones don't poke holes through my skin." She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself. "And when I forget and they do, or when I break one of those brittle, weak things, like I have at least thrice since we met, I use binding to put myself back together." She grimaced. "But I don't even feel it right away - not until I check every few hours or until I start swelling up. And then there's the pain in my back: constant and agonizing from sitting all day, or how I have to cool or heat myself constantly because my body can't do it." Her face became awkward, disgusted. "I would piss myself and shit myself were it not for the Gift and how I was taught to use it to assist with those... matters."

Her cheeks flushed red and, after a moment her eyes flicked up to regard her friend. "Those are things people on four don't know, because they don't see them and we tethered don't talk about them. They're things that Marci is coming to terms with, learning her way around." She shook her head a second time. "I shouldn't even be saying this, but I need you to understand that this isn't about you. It's about her shame, her vulnerability, and her embarrassment." There was a weak shrug. "She needs time. She needs space. She needs to find her own answers." Jocasta swallowed. "Around us, she's 'normal'. She has people who know what she's going through, who can help her learn, who she feels won't judge." She held up a hand again. "I know you won't, but it's perception that matters here and not reality. She loves you, but she can't face you. She can barely face us as it is, so I am asking you, my best friend, to back off - please - for her and for me."

The restless Zarina grew ever more frustrated with not getting what she wanted. All that mattered was finding Marci, no matter what she had become, and be there for her. Because she was her sister. And she'd move the world for a sister.

But the reality of the situation unfolded right before her under the form of the woman she respected the most. Jocasta's accursed state of existence was the living proof she needed. Zaz's restless legs came to a stop, and eventually she let her rear drop onto the nearest convenient surface. “I let this happen. I was so up my own ass handling that Dami-forsaken party to pay attention.” she wallowed in guilt, jaw clenched and fingers pressed against her skull.

“I may not understand, Jo, but you know, right?” she looked up to her Tethered teacher and best friend. “You know I'd do anything for you guys, right? I'd stake my life for you, especially for Marci.” she shook her head and clenched her fist enough to have her partially mutated claws to dig into her palm. “I won't force myself into her life. If she's that determined to cope this way, then I'll respect it. But I ain't gonna do nothing.” the head shaking increased as blood trickled down her pierced hands. “That pathetic rat of a boyfriend of her's - he's fucking done.”

"We needed that party, Zarina." Jocasta was implacable. "Dare I say it may have saved lives." She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, but twisted back, thinking better of it. "And I know how much you care. That's why I both trust you with my very life and know that you need tempering sometimes." Jocasta's voice became firm. "Fiske is a fool and I'm no fan of him either but, if you care for Marci as I do, you know her well enough to know that she'd have done it with or without him and she'd not have been stopped." Jocasta sighed, casting another tired glance over her shoulder. She threaded and unthreaded her fingers in her lap. "She was riding a high: win after win - and starting to believe in the myth of her own invulnerability; the infallibility of her own genius." She locked eyes with Zarina, searchingly.

With no target to direct her grief and rage, Zarina shifted her gaze with a focus on keeping it toward the floor. The unhealthy clenching did not cease and the breathing only got heavier. “You're far too accepting of this situation, Jocasta.” spoke Zarina with unshaken resolve in unleashing her anger as she met Jo's eyes. The damaged palms had already healed, leaving only rapidly congealing blood on her hands. “WE could have stopped her. WE could have changed this, you and me!”

The angry teen seemed to be looking for something, and after failing to find anything to put in her hand, she stood up and mercilessly stomped the chair she sat on. She really need to break something in a tantrum. “FUCK! That sack of shit could have opened his cocksucking mouth! SOMETHING had to be done! I could have DONE something!” and after a show of brutality and releasing far more anger than stemmed just from this specific predicament, she fell on her rear and his her eyes. She was crying.

Jocasta reached down and swung her feet from their footrest. No sooner had they thumped limply upon the floor than she had pushed herself to perch at the edge of seat. Clumsily, she levered herself onto the ground beside Zarina, wrapping both arms around her from the side. "Feels unsatisfying, doesn't it?" she admitted. "Fuck, I know it does." Idly, she stroked Zarina's hair, combing some of the tangles out of it, but she wasn't as gentle as she might've been had not some anger sparked inside of her as well. "Would be so much easier to hurt someone for this and, for the record, I swear to you that I will rip Juulet limb from fucking limb." She squeezed a bit tighter and, even without magic, her arms were strong. Then, she pulled back.

"But Marci's alive. She survived something that, by all rights, should've killed her. You know I haven't sugarcoated any of what comes next, but we tethered have the Gift. We can manage, and she will too. Just... be ready for her. Don't treat her any differently when she's back but don't like... avoid it: her... disability." Jocasta shrugged awkwardly. "It's not always an easy balance to strike, but I think you'll get it." She managed a supportive smile. "You have a way with people, and it's just Marci, after all: cute lil' shit that she is."

Sitting beside Zarina, Jocasta straightened, pushing her bottom off of the floor for a few seconds. "At the end of the day, she's her own person and made her own poor decisions. The past few days, when I haven't been busy risking my neck for some change around this place, I've been watching over her, and everything that's run through your head, well... It's run through mine too." She shrugged. "I've gone over what I could've done differently so many times I've lost count. I've thought of smashing Fiske's face in for not stopping her. I've been angry at you, to be honest, but this is nobody's fault but hers, much as we both love her, and that evil bitch Juulet's."

Jocasta sighed, nervously tucking some hair behind an ear. "I know I maybe sound insensitive or apathetic. I'm sorry if I'm not validating your rage well. We all need that. I've just... had longer to think at this point and come out on the other side of it. She took a deep breath and released it. "Ahn-Dami punished Marci for a mistake, but Vyshta spared her life." She posted her weight on one arm and leaned to the side. "Our sister will be okay. She isn't right now - she feels stupid, broken, and shocked - but she will be, I promise, and she'll come back to us. She'll come back to you. I trust that little Brandæble. She'll sort it out. Okay?"

Copious amounts of sobs, tears and snot had to be go through before Zarina composed herself. Jocasta's delicate handling of the situation paid off, even if time was the biggest actor in making the young dragon run out of energy to spare for wallowing. She had held onto her blonde friend quite tightly until they were made to part.

Brushing her face from the unflattering mess of mucus and dried tears, she looked up to Jo with red and still quite damp eyes. “Fuck, I'm a moron.” she spoke like there was something stuck in her throat. “I was gonna do the exact thing she did. Take out my rage on someone and have it backfire somehow.” she shook her head while aggressively rubbing her left eye with the bottom of her palm. Sniffles. “I just wanna see her, y'know? It's ... It's a lot, after everything that's happened.”

The still whimpering teen reached her hand out to hold Jocasta's without ever pulling her in. It was merely to have a connection with someone - to feel someone she trusted. “I can't lose more. Not after Miret, and Tommy, and now Marci ... Even if it's not forever.” she clenched the hand just a little. “It's why I'm asking you to not go after that psycho. If she comes for us, we'll deal with it. But ...” her second hand cupped the back of Jo's hand. “I don't want to lose more people that I cherish. Especially not for wretched nations, old power mongers or foreign monsters.”

Jocasta didn't quite know what to do, so she simply hugged back. When they finally separated, she breathed deeply, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and forced a reassuring smile. "I'll speak with her, when she's up to it. For what it's worth, I agree that it isn't healthy for her to be shutting everyone out like this. I think she'll come around soon, even if we don't exactly see her around campus for a bit." Jocasta shrugged. "It's just a big adjustment - a lot to learn."

For a moment, they lingered there in silence. Then, came the second part. "I'm a target as long as I live, Zaz. That's the nature of it." She sighed nervously. "But I can promise that I'll never make any unnecessary enemies. My wild days are done. I'm with you. Okay?"

fter a few deep breaths, Zarina appeared to be coming to. There even was a trace of a smile when she looked back into Jocasta's eyes. “I won't lie, I kinda need her too. I don't have the patience to keep Zeno Bucks family friendly on my own.” she partially joked after a loud sniff. “She'll be in my prayers until she's ready.”

The Virangish then reached for the back of Jocasta's head, just over the nape and pulled her in. Their foreheads met before she spoke. “Then when danger steps into our home, we all face it together, yeah? Nothing good ever comes when we wanna bear all those burdens like fairy tale heroes, habibi.” she turned her head slightly and smooched her sensei's cheek. “Thanks for being the voice I needed. I'd be lost and do something terrible otherwise.” she beamed a genuine grin at Jo. “Remember, I'll always be on your side. Just like I promised back in Torragon.”

Jocasta returned the small kiss, though she blushed considerably. She gave a small nod to go with it. "I know you will." She breathed. "I know and you have no idea how much it helps to have that." She smiled back. "But I never want you to risk yourself for me, okay?" She swallowed. "You and Marci, Ayla, and Yalen: you're good people with bright futures. We stand together -"

She snorted at the irony of her word choice, but then continued. "If anyone comes to hurt you guys, but I won't have you go out of your way and risk yourself for the monsters who come for me. They're on a whole different level." She pulled back a bit and flexed her rather impressive biceps. "But I'm pretty strong, you know. Right?" She smiled and reached forward, placing her hands on each of Zarina's shoulders. "What I need most is your support, your belief, and to know that you're safe." She slumped back a bit and sighed. "The Gods crafted me as I am for a reason - I have to believe it. There's no two ways about it: I stand out and I'm not about to let that strength go to waste. I'll be the next Hugo Hunghorasz if that's what's needed, and I'll do better than he ever did." A determined look came over her face. "Fairytale time, suunei!"

“Fairy tale time, Sensei!” dragon Zarina just smirked at her. “... I'll get you a new chair, promise.”

The Hourglass Order

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♫

The Trials had finally ended. What was a simple, action-packed week felt like months to some, but it was all worth it for the big top ten (and then some) as they claimed their prizes and bid generously during the auction. Zarina’s invite punctuated this chapter of their lives with what was hoped to be a positive note and she was still hopeful despite the very recent developments and accelerated tensions. There would be no such things during this homebrewed gala. When 1:00 HD hit, the party officially begun.

“Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!”

At the main entrance door that remained open during the whole evening was none other than Horus wearing a hat similar to Zarina’s Homburg. A popular face and voice to greet the guests, with hats and other items gathered by the short but conveniently dextrous young Monkeybird to be stored in one of the nearby closets. The house had been arranged to accommodate for an influx of people, with tables added to the drawing room decorated with many appetisers. But the bulk of the activity was actually in the yard where three rows of tables were set with more foods and drinks aplenty.

Ellermane Bleu, courtesy of Desmond’s catering, was the main alcoholic beverage to go with the bite sized goods on the tables, but soon came a butt of Hegelan-approved beer to be set by the archway between the indoors and outdoors. Maat, the second and more colorful Monkeybird, made sure to tend to the nozzle.

““More? More? MOOOOORE! SLURP!””

Then came Osman, the newcomer land octopus carrying trays of biscottis with cream and shrimp as well as glasses of Meattu champagne. His tentacles stretched out to reach for finished glasses to switch them with a newly filled one. A brilliant server, to be sure, even if it couldn’t quite grasp any sort of order, it knew when to take an item and when not to.

Zarina, clad in a brilliant gold dress of both Virangish and Torragonese inspiration and long trumpet sleeves, was playing the role of host to a T, making sure to greet as many guests as possible with the usual politeness and pleasantries - even to those she didn’t quite remember. Big smiles, loads of energy, and an offering of expensive drinks to keep the mood up were her go-tos. Oh, and of course, she wouldn’t hesitate to show off her fancy new House Hippo in her handbag. The little critter was a tad overwhelmed, but also found itself consistently fed.

Technically Correct had arrived precisely on time, finding Johann to be one of the earliest arrivals to help the hostess prepare for the evening. Others such as Ayla, Ashon, Marceline and Kaureerah were there from the start by virtue of actually living there. And the Zeno Bucks staff worked to keep the dishes coming and the venue clean (as well as helping the animals/mascots).

The Soul Sisters were expected to arrive soon with a whole stage prepared out back dedicated to them and all other performers. Until then, Gonzalo, the barista stationed in the Workman’s Quarter, was the tune of the evening with his Laud, along with his troupe of merry musicians. There wasn’t a minute with some music.

Welcome to the Trials End Party at Zarina’s! Feel free to enjoy, reach out to people, do your own little skits for entertainment and so on! This is an opportunity to exchange with friends, new or old, before the world makes this difficult for you. Ellermane Bleu effects apply to all those who drink it.

Meeting with Jo

At the precise moment where Jocasta had undone her spell, Zarina joined the trio to greet them like she had done almost every other guest so far. Although this pairing had been one she was hoping to exchange with for a long while now. The signs of temporal tampering were there, but she had long since made it a point of not prying on the sensei's decisions and machinations - she figured some alone time was needed, and there was little she could do if violence happened regardless.

“Well if it isn't our ambitious social climber.” the hostess greeted with some good humour snark, arms open to hug both Yalen and Jocasta. “It's great to see you two, truly. Honestly,” she looked at Jocasta in particular. “I was starting to miss that resting bitch face - with respects of course, sensei.” a devious-Jocasta smirk took form on her visage. “Really, though, I'm glad you're here. Wouldn't be a party without one of my besties.” that smirk quickly turned into something more of a genuine smile. “Ellermane? Or Champagne?”

"It would appear I've already had my fill," Jocasta replied, placing the empty glass down and shaking her head with a rueful smile. "It's good to see you too, Zarina. It's good to see you this... glowing, and in the right kind of way." For a moment, she underwent a tiny crisis. She'd let Taleja have her riposte. Such the better to put her at ease for later. Them having a short but seemingly pleasant engagement during the party would allay suspicions. It might look like unrest, like some attack based on class or nation or whatever else people had decided to kill each other for these days.

Then, Zarina was there, however: a friend, and she thought she might get it off her chest. She thought she might tell a truth and confess a fear. Yet... had they really been friends these past few months? They had no classes together, they had little free time for each other. They were still pleasant enough when they happened to meet, of course, and she would always be grateful for what the Virangishwoman had done for her, alongside Ayla and the others, but it was mostly the business of stopping a Zarina-dragon from rampaging about the city when transformed that brought them together these days.

It all added up to an inescapable feeling that this was her swansong with these people. She moved about a different sphere now, different circles. "Well, enough about me. Ipte knows all people have been doing is congratulating us on the marriage since we've arrived."

Yalen, tossing back another drink, nodded wearily.

"Stop drinking so much, you. I'm not giving you a ride home again, you know." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, should I be throwing my bouquet straight to you after the whole thing?" She smirked, eyes catching a glimpse of Miret int he distance. She arched a brow suggestively.

Zarina furrowed her eyebrows at the comment made by Jocasta. It took her a few seconds to connect the dots, and it took her following Jocasta's gaze to realize. When her eyes inevitably met Miret's, she quickly turned back like a pre-teen on a first crush. “I've noooo idea what you're talking about.” there was a perfect mixture of both over-the-top humor and a genuine attempt at denial. There was no hiding from Jocasta, but then again Zarina was one to kid herself more often than naught. “Just just a good friend.” she canted her head to the side. “A very tactile, cuddly and flirty friend.” her voice degraded quickly into a whisper.

She shook her head. “I don't think those Tarlon-types believe in these ceremonies anyway. Even with their more open minds with ...” she pursed her lips, just realizing what she was about to say. This wasn't something she was ready to accent despite everything. It still wasn't entirely right. And so, reality easily settled in. “You know how it is with them. It's ... I'm not fooling myself.”

Jocasta smiled in understanding. "Well, come what may, enjoy the ride, whether it lasts another hundred days or hundred years, right?"

Yalen grimaced. "Darling," he cut in, "since when have you been this sentimental?"

"Since you, ya big teddy bear!" Jocasta twisted about on the spot. "Oh, you have to bring her here, you know!" she told Zarina, "Or I shall go find her myself!"

Zarina took a heart chug of her wine. “Right. That's one way to see it.” she said, lukewarm about the notion, but she flashed her friends a reassuring smile afterwards. She was, overall, happy and they could see it. “Looking handsome, by the way, Yalen.” she flashed him a cheeky wink.

Then, she lowed her head and tapped her forehead to the edge of her glass. “For Eshi's sake, Jo ...” she mumbled, cheeks reddened. “Okay, y'know what? Sure. I want my friends to be friends too.” she uttered with total cope and her features stressed to the point of being quite red. Twisting as well, she called out. “Luuchy! Hey!” she gestured for the Yasoi to come. “I wanna introduce ya'. Tyrel too, if she wants!”

"They all say that now that I'm about to be married," the little blonde man sighed, and his significant other's mouth fell agape in mock horror. "Oh, you little bastard!" she chided.

Then, Zarina was calling the others over. Miret made her way there. "You call me that one more time, I'll..." She trailed off. "Oh, is this your zeno friend? The one who swatted the fly?" she exclaimed suddenly.

“Or you'll what? Hmm?” and suddenly, Zarina felt her hostess ease return. Her shoulder brushed up against Miret's shoulder, and the glimpses she shot at the Yasoi said it all about the level of passion she felt for the girl. “Luuchy.” she said, provocatively.

“Tan-Zeno. But, yes, this is Jocasta. My Sensei and good friend.” she gestured toward the first blonde. “And Yalen, her fiancé and a close friend too.” then, she reached for Miret's shoulder. “And this, my friends, is the biggest Luuchy in the world. Also known as Miret'thilan'dichora.”

"Sensei!" Miret snorted. "So you're Nikanese now?" She punched Zarina in the shoulder.

"Oh, it was my awful idea. I'd just read a whole bunch of Nikanese things around the time."

Nonetheless, they shook hands and seemed to have taken to each other. Yalen was introduced as well. "You know," said Jocasta after a couple more minutes of smalltalk, "we should um... do something sometime, the whole gang, like we used to. Maybe next Victendes assuming this place doesn't tear itself apart before then, huh?"

Jocasta, in agreement, let her go with a fond farewell. "See," Yalen's voice could be heard saying, "I told you this was a good idea."

Meeting with Marz

Marz slowly made his way over to Zarina, he was in some more formal attire, well, what is known to be formal for hegelans. A large shirt of multiple layers of vibrant and gorgeous colors, each layer of different fabrics to give a form of depth and from his own occupations, a had a large leather belt which had multiple golden inlaid rings which each one denoted a form of mastery over a craft. For Marz, he had been recognized as AA quality in over 10 different skills of craft, with a center platinum ring with a ruby inset which denoted his recognition in the creation of his first great work. One that could denote his legacy, a master work

The moment Marz made his way to Zarina he said in a quiet almost sheepish voice, "Great party". Marz couldn't find much else to say, most others here seemed almost so consumed in their own existance and those they are speaking to he feels nothing he could say or do would even register with them.

Zarina had Fiske in her sights, tucked deep within the mass of people she had graciously let in her home. Her amber hues did not leave his lithe form, with Miret in tow if she decided to keep up with her luush'elar. There was, however, a voice so small and sheepish, that it somehow got her attention more than the ceaseless laughters and obnoxiously loud exchanges. Surely she had hallucinated this!

And yet there he was, Marz the gruff and hardened expert smith and supposed ruffian. Looking fabulous and also shy. Taken aback, Zarina had lost track of the rat in her home, and now she had a new object of intrigue. “Oh. Why, thank you!” chiped a jolly Zazzy, confident in keeping her hostess persona going despite her mild worries. “Glad you could make it. I was getting worried we brought the beer keg for nothing.” she remarked with mild snark, arms crossed and a fat grin on her face. “Or, maybe just maybe,” complicit and certainly devious, she bended over a little to approach the bearded man's height with a smirk. “You actually have a soft spot for the more refined and delicate delights, hmm?”

Miret came up from behind and leaned upon Zarina's shoulder. "Hey Marz," she said with a smile. It was an innocent enough greeting on the surface.

Marz was mostly sheepish, just listening, for a moment it seemed he at least found some ground, possibly to even find something to talk about...

"Ahh-" Marz was then taken aback when Zarina started to poke at him. His teeth gritted as he looked to her with a flustered face, "-are you calling me soft!"

Marz was flustered by such accusations, the poutiness that is worn on his face told of Marz' true age. That he too was just a young man, even with his rougher demenor and gruff self, he too was just like those around him, in the peak of his youth.

“Yes.” Zarina said without a moment's hesitation. “Soft and silky from what I see, Dami's damn beard!” her eyes focused on the beard in question, so well kept and matching Ayla's incredible mane. “I can see why so many googly-eyed ladies walk into your workshop.” she snickered, back straightened as she regained her regular height. “But soft doesn't mean weak. You can be a mighty, black dragon with flames that devour all for centuries, and still have the softest of underbellies.” she commented as she swiped a couple of wine glasses from Osman's tray with one offered to the Hegelan. “To good health, women, and soft, lovely bellies, yeah?”

With the jolly moment, Zarina didn't stop with just pointless small talk. There was a rare genius crafter in her gala, and they hardly had the chance to exchange. Perhaps diving into his preferred subjects would be of intrigue. “Beards aside, I also heard you make quite the tale-worthy scythe. Am I to believe I'm talking to a legend in the making akin the stories of Tagemitsu Kenshin?”

Miret leaned in and nodded. "When the war happens, what side are ya gonna join?" she asked Marz. "You know they'll both make you offers."

Marz was taken aback once more Zarina seemed to almost speak in such a way to complement and still make fun of him at the same time, much like the many Skalds he had worked with on projects before.

And even when the drinks were brought all he could do was raise it and say, "Ah...Aye, to soft erm bellies". Marz then took a drink as soon he was asked about his work.

A gleam lot up in Marz eye as he said, "Aye! She was a beauty, a gorgeous scythe which held was a craft I could say was one of my best to date. But in my opinion, it is going to be the worst of my legacy". Marz said with a laugh.

Marz then turned to Miret, a topic which he didn't think much about, "I, ah, I'm unsure. I haven'thad much thoughts on such ideas. As strange as it maybe".

Marz gets lost in thought as he swirls the wine in his glass as he speaks, "A smith makes arms, tools that people use to fight. Simple as is, they arm those to kill others. But I never thoight about which side to choose. My time within thi land has been short, and truthfully I'm unsure where some of the people I even know will go. The strange nature of this lands and it's dealings with each other makes it seem almost impossible for me to even know where they will even go".

Zarina shot a look of disapproval at Miret. “Miret,” she spoke while foregoing the compulsory Luuchy. “I don't think we should be discussing camps to choose in a time where we get to not have to do any of that.” she semi-scolded her luush'elar, only to then convey a contradictory message by tugging her closer by wrapping her arm around the Yasoi's waist.

“You don't have to think about that, Marz. It's fine.” she flashed a less playful smile at the Hegelan. “And, don't worry too much about how good the first one is - I assume it's your first big weapon project anyway. It has a special place as, well,” she looked to Miret, as if addressing her too. “your first. In some way, even if totally inexplicable, it'll be unbeatable.”

Marz gave a light nod, "Aye", clear thought that this was not place to think sides of what is to break this hall apart. Just more simpler talks.

Marz casted his gaze back to the girls, "Aye, the first, even if the worst, is where it all starts".

"No matter where she goes or what hands she lands into, no matter what else I make, what I know is that she was where it all started". An unworried face sat upon Marz as he then perked up.

"Oh! I did wish to come to you as well, I've noticed that you don't wield a weapon. Is there a reason?"

Miret blushed. "Come 'ere, you. I get the double meaning!" She twisted to face Marz. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bring it up but, like... shucks, everyone's thinking about it." She held up a hand. "I'll stop, luuchy. Don't worry. I will."

Then, Marz addressed Zarina and Miret leapt back. "Ooooh, He's gonna make one for ya!" she teased. "He's gonna do it! He's gonna doggone do it!"

Zarina to keep a stern face toward Miret - not a very good one, she wore her emotions far too easily - but eventually giggled and dropped her forehead onto Miret's shoulder. “I'm Luuchy too, now? Darn it.” and with that came a very quick and inconspicuous smooch on that same shoulder. “I trust you.”

She straightened herself, yet again, and brush her straight, brown hair back over her hairs after all that leaning and moving. “Ah, you've noticed, huh? Well,” she passed her hand through her hair again, letting the strands flow between her fingers as she pondered. “If we discount the times where opportunities were snatched under my nose ... I suppose it never was my priority to, like,” Zarina was never good with words, and keeping things agreeable with others - to not offend them - sometimes made it a hurdle for her. “make weapons to harm people. Hence why I have a shield.” she shrugged.

But then, after a somewhat glum look; she continued. “I'm not some cushy idealist, however. I know I need one. But at that point, I'd only settle for something that could contend with the worst horrors of this world. I've no interest in more efficient ways to butcher fellow men by the hundreds.” Zarina smirked, as her golden hippo poked its head out of her handbag. “Now if you're offering to make such a thing ...”

Marz nodded as he listened to Zarina, taking in her thoughts, ideas, and even feelings. Marz listened with great interest as he finally said, "Yes, I am offering to make you a weapon".

Marz nodded his head as he began to think, "No cushy ideals, yet in the same, less than pragmatic. Something to fight the worst of things".

Marz put his hand to his chin as he seemed to go deeper in thought, "Yet, not anything normal, weapons that are normally just to kill in the normal sense. This needs to be different, yet efficent".

Marz nodded to himself as he continued, "One for battle, not for war.".

Marz then smiled to himself as he continued, "Yes. Yes, I think this is a good one. A real challenge in it's own right".

Marz looked to Zarina and declaired, "Yes. I will make you a weapon like no other. A weapon, that shall do what you wish it to and need of it. To fight what needs to be fought, to spill blood when blood needs to be spilled, and nowhere else".

Zarina started off deadpan, letting the Hegelan dive deep into his musings. But as it went on, she couldn't help but appear amused. “My, keep this up and I'll have to pay an hourly fee.” she chuckled, hand squeezing Miret's side. The tip of her tongue tapped against the back of her teeth, prompting a little popping noise. “Don't lose your mind over the details. I am a person who can choose. Any sword can be brandished or left in the sheath and that will determine whether I will kill with it or not.”

But then, she thought for a moment, and then giggled. “But then again, if you wish to make something extraordinary, who am I to give leeway and shortcuts?” she reached out to the shorter man, digits keen on dragging through the puffed up and glorious chin-mane of his. “So long as you swear it is made with the genuine passion of the next great creator, then I will humbly accept it regardless of its form.”

A moment passed and she shook her head, snickering in light shame. “Gods, I sound so over-the-top. But, fuck it, I'm a bitch for epic things. You'll get to see a big, fucking angry dragon with your masterpiece. And Tku will draw it.” she jested, partially, before leaning closer again, fingers since retreated back. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Tuna?” she had a near-perfect timing with the swiping of the dish being carried by Osman who had just bee passing by. It was presented right before the Hegelan.

Marz nodded, his eyes were calm, he didn't react or even flinch to the touching, the once meek man hiding away in his own clothing was no more. Marz stood as he always did, tall and strong, as he nodded, "Aye. I make nothing without putting my everything into it. If I didn't then I wouldn't be Marz Mohfolk".

Marz let out a light laugh, one after being told of the great picture he would see with Zarina holding his weapon, "I think I would love nothing more than to see my weapon held in such a display".

Marz was then almost seemingly cut down a slight bit with Zarina switch back to a host and offering him some morsel to eat, "Oh, uhm, y-yes, I would like some, uh-th...thank you.".

Zarina produced a mild, 'cool' grin with her eyes half-lidded once Marz reverted back to what appeared like a shier demeanour. “As the Perrench say: Bon Appétit.” she bowed her head graciously.

Then her attention went to the rest of the party. Most were receiving their main meals that they could either get delivered, or take from the buffet. “You know,” she spoke up again, despite her words and actions suggestion a finality to their exchange. “we speak of sides but ... Why not simply create for the good folks here? We might fight for our country, but would we brandish our weapons against each other, as individuals, when we bear the same mark of Marz Mohfolk on our weapons?” she mused. “Your creations do not just have to be weapons of war, they could also unite us - a generation that can do better.”

The hostess' eyes landed upon Desmond, first. “This man, for instance, one of the greatest warriors I've known. Great guy too. He can make his own weapons, that I'm certain, but I'm sure even a gunman would need a quality hand-to-hand weapon from time to time.” then, she shifted toward Ingrid. “And here's a girl that rustles the hornet's nest, and earns quite a bit of ire from her impulsion. But ultimately, Ingy's a good woman. She too could be magnificent and bring greatness with such a masterpiece.” then, finally, her eyes landed back onto Marz. “What I'm essentially saying is - don't stop with me. We can continue what this soirée started well beyond its time, even in the worst times of war.” she smiled, warmly, and looked to her Luuchy. “Hells, even this little Luuchy could use something to remind her of her favourite Yanii.”

Marz began to nod as he listened and thought, upon what was being said, "A generation that can do better".

Marz continued to think as a smile came onto his face, "That, sounds like a true craft. Crafting not just with a set of hands that are my own, but through bonds...yeah".

Marz nodded to Zarina, "Aye, I like the sound of it. Something that can be seen by all, not just those who are the receiver of it".

Marz continues to nod, his smile growing as his mind begins to be filled with ideas now in his own mind.

The Beginning of the End

The Hours of Dami ticked over into Ipté: a time when most not engaged in either acts of love or acts unlawful were fast asleep. The hired musicians had since gone home, but there were a handful among the remaining wakeful students who were well-acquainted with music. These remnants and their friends danced slowly, sat around tables in semi-drunken discussion, and helped those who'd had a bit too much to drink settle themselves in for the night. Others staggered home under their own power, careful to go through the Parade Gate and not risk the Seagate and its desperate masses of refugees.

Soft, slow music wafted into the night, accompanied by the odd burst of laughter, the clatter of glasses and plates being gathered up, and the distant backdrop of frogs and crickets in the Border Wood. It all seemed to be winding down: the students' own perfect ending to an imperfect Trials, initiated and carried out by themselves without any help from those older and putatively wiser.

Into this scene of burgeoning serenity grew a new noise, however, threatening its tentative existence: armoured footsteps, marching in file; the orange flicker of torches in the night. Most didn't notice these. They were either busy, lazy, or drunk. Then, came the knocking on the door: three beats, firm and authoritative. Two Centuries stood outside of the door, accompanied by a hooded figure who appeared to be a Zeno and four city guards.

They waited.

Ten seconds had passed. They knocked again, just as firmly.

The Soirée's peaks had been reached after Magnificent Green's display of talent and exaggerated sense of triumph. The guests loved him and the hostess appeared to be in on the joke. Or was it truly an act of improvisation? It almost seemed too good. Zarina had since hopped off the stage, leaving those that wished to play to do so as the late hours settled in quickly.

Many of the animals had since retired in her room - forbidden to all guests - as did many other guests, either finding their ways home or using one of the hostess' unused rooms to 'settle down'. She knew this was inevitable and took it upon herself to stay awake until the party was definitively finished.

The urge to dance was still strong. She knew, despite the avoidance of the subject, that she would not see her lover too often after this. Nor would Miret ever be her's the same way she's been in this honeymoon phase. But maybe she could still bask in the illusion of being special for a little longer. The wine she ingested in very frequent intervals were telling her yes. But just before she could commit to any decision, a set of three loud knocks from the closed entrance door caught her attention.

Uncertain of what to expect given the hours and the lack of noise, she approached at a brisk pace but cautiously extended her hand to open it. It was during this hesitation that the knocks started again, prompting Zarina to jump. “Coming, coming.” she announced.

Deep breaths. She opened the door and regarded the gathering of seven individuals. Surprised but composed, she shot them an expectant look. “Good eve- Errr, hello.” she spoke, calm with her attention on the conspicuously distinct zeno. “Can I help you?”

"Zarina." the Zeno flipped back her hood. She was Sienna Afraval and she appeared nothing if not apologetic. She tried to force a smile, happy to see a favourite student, but it died quickly. "I've been sent on authority of the Wise Council." The two Centuries were recognizable as well. Mareceline padded up softly behind Zarina. "Jurgen?" she asked tentatively. The other was Collette. She received a stiff nod from the first.

"Don't worry. You're not in any trouble, for what it's worth," Zeno Afraval assured them with a sad shake of her head. "We're here to escort one of your guests to the Violet Enclave for questioning on yesterday's.... incident." She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, even as her eyes roved across the inside of the house with a light of curiosity and even amusement. "I don't - I've been told it shouldn't take long." She shook her head. Collette, as well, could be seen glancing inside. Whatever wry comment she might normally have made was held in, however. "It's all..." Her eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding Zarina's. "All procedural."

It was abundantly clear that the people they had sent were handpicked for the task. Zarina crossed her arms the moment she realized what this was about and kept her frame in the center of the door frame, only leaning slightly to the side when Marceline joined in. “Lady Afraval,” she began, still calm but her voice stammering just a little bit. The tactics used were effective, even when the subject was aware of them. “I'm sorry but why at this hour? They're either sleeping or having a good, quiet time. If they're even still here.” although it only occurred to her now that something was missing. She kept her voice down. “Who are we talking about?”

Sienna's eyes went to Collette's briefly, and then to Jurgen's. "It's Penny, Zarina - Penny Pellerin."

"And why now?" Marci challenged. "Why after she's already been released? Why in the middle of the night?" She repeated Zarina's unanswered question.

"So we could get her quickly and quietly into custody and back out of it for classes tomorrow," the Zeno offered. "We assumed she'd be at her place and were surprised to find she'd gone here." Jurgen shot her an unreadable look. "Listen, Zazzy, I had my misgivings about this, but it's what I was told and, whatever's happened recently, I trust them enough to believe they wouldn't outright lie." She paused and gathered her breath. "May we enter and speak with her?" While it did not come from Sienna, there was a subtle, cautionary, drawing of energy from the party outside.

Zarina made it clear by the growing frown on her face that she didn't like any of this. She chewed at nothing to pacify herself, but the fact that so many powerful individuals were at her door quickly put her on edge. “You do know it's a bit weird they send you, Ms. Afraval, to get a Perrench suspect. Arch Zeno Tojarra already made the situation very awkward.”

However, Zarina's maintained composure was challenged when the faintest hint of active drawing caught her attention. She shot a warning glare at the concerned parties, although she couldn't quite tell those who were concerned. “You may. But only you.” her attention remained on the martial flock behind the Zeno. “I presume she isn't being arrested? If so, nobody else's stepping in unless she wants to go with you.”

"What she wants doesn't matter in this," Jurgen warned, though it was distinctly not a threat. "The school has declared this a 'disciplinary matter'." Collette shot him a pointed look and he fell silent, eyes briefly finding his younger sister. "I shall wait with our visitors at the door," Marceline promised, preempting any rejection of Zarina's terms.

Sienna offered up an apologetic face. "Thank you," she replied once the others were quite finished. "I do realize how this looks and they have assured me this is not an arrest, else I'd not have agreed to come." With those words, she stepped past the threshold. A couple of the guards - the Zenith's Guards - Zarina and Marceline noted, scowled, but they were the minnows here and they did not press.

Zarina forced herself to not reply with appropriate sass to Marci's brother. Still, she did add something. “My home is outside of the city's walls. Disciplinary measures or not, you'll need more to compel me to relent.” she then nodded to Marci before showing Sienna in.

“She was definitely here, and I didn't see her leave.” Zarina informed her previously appointed zeno, voice lowered to something more discreet. “If I were to make an educated guess ...” the teen's intuition would bring them to the upper floor, and eventually to the trap door that led to the attic. “Fair warning, the boyfriend's here. Good guy, but different.” before they progressed any further, she reached for Afraval's forearm to get her attention. “I'm trusting you, teach. I really don't want this night to end up in violence, pain and division. It's been so ... I almost wanna say perfect.”

---

Ayla was occupied with still tidying up for the evening, especially as people seemed to have confused plant pots for disposal areas, namely leftovers of that muffin. Her interest perked at the commotion as she moved toward the door to investigate, finding Zarina and Marci in talks with whoever was there. When she spotted Zeno Afraval, she was about to smile and welcome her cousin warmly, though when she noticed the facial expression being held, she quickly picked up that this is more than a social call. “Is there anything we can do to help?” She approached with an eyebrow raised as she communicated silently towards Zarina and Sienna but relented as they moved on elsewhere in the house. She turned to look toward Collette and Jurgen, “Would you like bread and salt? We have plenty left over.” She indicated toward far more appealing food items than simple provisions in her statement.

Marceline did a double take at Zarina's response. Had she misinterpreted Jurgen's words or had the older girl? To her mind, that had not been a threat but, rather, a warning of the school's intentions and his barely-suppressed misgivings about them. For a moment, she second-guessed herself, and that was enough that it passed. Jurgen all-but rolled his eyes and returned to being stoic and professional.

Then, his eyes found Ayla, even before she'd reached the door. He smiled in her direction as she spoke. "I would very much welcome your hospitality," he replied gratefully, stepping through the threshold, even as Collette shot him a warning look. "I thought this was Zarina's home," she replied to Ayla. "Is it... not?"

Zarina, meanwhile, had spoken her entreaty and Sienna furrowed her brow. "I can't promise anything," she replied quickly and quietly, "except that I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't escalate and that I will hold my higher ups to their word." The stairs creaked as they walked. "You're doing Ipté's work, Zarina. I'm so sorry to have thrown a wet blanket on it."

Then, they were at the top of the stairs. There was a hallway leading to three rooms and the privy. The trapdoor to the attic was not so very far away.

Ayla paused for a moment as it seemed she had stumbled into an awkward situation, though she is unclear why there are hostilities, and even if there were, it would be best to make things as cooperative as possible if it involved the Academy and the Centuries. “Zarina does own the house, though we pay rent to live here,” she shot a look toward Marci as if to say ‘what gives?’ As she shook her head side-to-side. Peering at the weather, she looked bemused. “My apologies, then you must wait by the entrance as you enter. It would be improper to have two centuries waiting outside in this weather, and we must extend our hospitality to you.” She moved to pick up a chair as she brought it over by the entrance and fetched another. She encouraged Marci to bring some food and drink, while she did likewise, offering some delicacies. “What would you both prefer, meat? Scotch Eggs? Macarons…” She looked at the basket still sat at the table, “Best to avoid those muffins, though.” She moved the basket out of the way discreetly.

he guards waited outside, having not been invited in, while their nominal superiors stepped through. "Ah, yes, the erm... 'muffins'," Marceline acknowledged, still trying to get the last remnants of their taste out of her mouth. "Do not be so adventurous, Jurgen." She shook her head. "And neither you, my lady. I shall fetch the finest of cuisines for my dear brother and his friend." Marceline twirled on the spot and rushed off to fetch what was left, returning with Zenobucks coffee, scotch eggs, macaroons, and 'pigs in a blanket' from McBoller's. In the meantime, Jurgen looked at the basket and smirked as if to say, 'should I?'

---

Zarina clenched her jaw. “If she refuses, what happens then?” she inquired, showing glimpses of her naiveté to a teacher who knew her all too well. “I'll side with my guest and friend, Sienna.” they were nearing the end of the hallway with the trapdoor's cord hanging conspicuously before a large cat tree. “Nobody should hear us.” she said just as she conjured a quick and cramped sonic bubble. “What are they going to do to her? Is it just some interrogation?”

Sienna shrugged, eyes darting about as the bubble dropped. "Far as they've told me, it's just some questioning. They're all at a loss for where that attack came from and that, in itself, is pretty worrying." She shook her head. "Then, I imagine they'll give her a slap on the wrist and send her on her way." She eemed about to let up, but her face darkened. "There's... a chance they'll do more. I don't know if you've heard, but there's been vandalism on the statues of the Zenith and Arch-Zeno Tojarra." She bit her lower lip. "The wise thing to do is to let Penny go and I firmly believe that wisdom will prevail here. Still..." She let herself fall silent for a moment. "That doesn't always hold true these days."

Then, they could hear footsteps from below - awkward and distinct ones, coming up the stairs.

“So they've got nothing. That doesn't look too good.” remarked Zarina. She reached out for the cord, but was interrupted by a notion that brought her to think. “And no, I didn't hear. Fuck.” she took a deep breath before looking at the cord again. “I'm trusting you, Sienna. Same way you trusted me after ... Last year, despite the mess I caused.”

“Hmm.” footsteps were drawing near just as she prepared to open the hatch again and the hostess couldn't help but recognize how distinct they were. She raised her hand for Sienna to stop any ascent or if she wanted to speak. “Wait, someone's coming.”

"Not just anyone," the Zeno whispered, popping the sonic bubble as she finished. "That's her."

"Babe?" came Penny's voice, traveling up the stairs. It ran into the remnants of their sound dampening and didn't travel particularly far. Then, there was a pause and her head appeared in the stairwell. "Oh, Zarina!" she exclaimed, before noticing who was accompanying her. "And Zeno Afraval." She quickly bowed her head in respect. "You grace us with your presence." Her eyes found Zarina, though, and seemed to send a quick and alarmed message: 'What is going on? Am I in trouble? Is there any getting out of it?'

Despite the warnings, Penny's arrival caught Zarina off guard. Unsure of how this would go down, she greeted the Perrench with a look of uncertainty that could only feel the worry Penny inevitably manifested. She gestured for her to come closer before looking over shoulders.

“Zeno Afraval, a couple of Century and some city guards are here for you -” she peered toward Sienna briefly. “for questioning. It's your choice if you wanna do any of that.” she crossed her arms and set herself in a good spot to step between the two if something ever went wrong. “If you don't want to go, they can't compel me to give you away, for what it's worth.” she shot a confident smile to Penny, one identical to the one she kept during the whole Soirée as she basked in the unity she had created. “But, I think you should hear what Sienna has to say.”

Before Penny could speak, Sienna Afraval raised a hand. "I should stop you right there." She tried to address both Zarina and Penny. "Technically, by the letter of the law, I can legally compel her to the Violet Enclave because of the ridiculous charge leveled against her." The Zeno shook her head immediately. "Now, you can rest assured that I never would. Not for a moment would I force you to do anything against your will." Her gaze took them both in. "That said, I think you should come with me, Penny, and you will almost certainly be either acquitted without a big showy public trial that they don't want or else given the lightest slap on the wrist imaginable and dumped right back in class for tomorrow."

Penelope's face tightened. "And the people actually responsible for this mess," she inquired in a voice that walked the line between wary and too-sweet. "Have they been caught?" She tilted her head. "Found?" She continued. "Are there any leads at all?"

Sienna's face looked pained. "Penny..." she sighed.

"Zeno Afraval," the girl replied.

"Penny, please don't. I know they've treated you badly. Its'... quite frankly abhorrent, and you've every right to be angry and distrustful, but I'm trying to set it right. Others like Zenos Masson and Silvestri, Fabio, Luna, and Sunny: we're all trying to set it right. This is the best compromise we can get. They know their situation isn't amazing, but - "

"But a cornered animal lashes out," the Perrenchwoman interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. "And wouldn't I be a great person to hold ransom in a pinch?"

"They'd be digging their own graves if they tried."

"Oh, they won't do it formally," Penny decided. "No, they'll have some justification, but anyone with half a brain for politics will be able to see the truth."

"The truth?" Zeno Afraval replied. She shook her head, and quite aggressively. "The truth is that statues of Arch-Zeno Tojarra and Zenith Upta have been vandalized by Perrench and Perrench-aligned students, but the news hasn't traveled yet." She took a deep breath, trying to reel them both in with her eyes again. "But it will and they may feel compelled to act and then the scenario you mention becomes a possibility." She held up a hand to forestall further comment until she was finished. "A remote one, I firmly believe, but still a possibility. We go now, however, and this can all blow over." She cleared her throat. "They give you the punishment of penning a letter on the danger of aberrations or something stupid like that, everyone sees that they've let you go as they should've in the first place, they find some Revidian or Torragonese to slap with the same penalty, and then we go back to... well, hopefully not all hating each other." Her voice was almost desperate, almost pleading. "Please, Penny," she entreated. "You're a good person. You always have been, and I'm sorry this has happened. It's unjust and even cruel, but I'm asking you to help me here. You can help me put an end to the worst of it, but our time is short. We have to act now while cooler heads may yet prevail."

Penny's face and bearing burned with anxiety. Her eyes flicked Zarina's way before returning to the Zeno. She swallowed. "And if they don't?" she asked simply.

Zarina looked back at Penny with equal amounts of concern, but she forced herself to regain her composure. With confidence, she spoke. “Then we'll push back against the school. Us, the students.” she stated without blinking or a hint of hesitation. “It's not a threat, this is how it's gonna be. And not just those of one side.” at first her eyes flickered to Penny, and then they reached Afraval's. “And all those who'd stand against corruption, not just the students.”

The hostess of the abode and festivities reached out to Penny's hand in a show of solidarity. “Just know, no matter your choice, I stand with my friend. As I'm sure Ashon would too.” a grin that radiated youthful and reckless confidence reigned on her expression, one that sent the message: 'I meant it, they can't make me, legal or not.'

“But I trust Sienna. Of all the staff ... I trust her the most, along with Jo'. She didn't let me down at my very worst.” she turned her head to regard the Torragonese royal with softened features. “I don't think she'll let you down either.”

Penny nodded. She seemed ready to reach a conclusion, to go with this plan or not, but then she paused. "I hear what both of you are saying," she acknowledged. "I understand it, even." She took a step to the side, however. "But it's not only about me," she declared, running her hands tenderly across her midsection. "Not anymore." She smiled faintly and nervously. "I need to speak with Ashon. He must be part of a decision of this import." Eyes darting between the other two, Penny reached up for the rope to pull it.

As the attic opened, a Yasoi male flopped upside down before the trio of ladies that had gathered before them. He took a glance at each of them, then sagely nodded his head, “It is true, whatever I have been accused of is correct.” He released himself as he flipped onto the landing, his arms spread out in a welcoming manner. “It was when I was a wee lad, about this high you see,” he mimed the height that he was, “There was Kerreman Knight, just like that one down there, moustache and all, and he held the village ransom as he demanded a shrubbery. As you know, a shrubbery is very important to us Yasoi…” he could feel the eyes glaring towards him, as he cleared his throat, “Well, long story short, the Grey fleet made me do it, and I am down a shrubbery.” He shook his head in disappointment as he turned to Penny, “I promised that I would use that shrubbery to feed you and our future family. I have failed you, my love.”

He held his hands together as he presented them to the Zeno Afraval. “Please don’t inform Zeno Tarthas’talix’tuura, the sting of his cane continues to plague me to this day.” He gestured to the gathered crowd of guards outside the building, “You didn’t have to bring all of them with you, though. I am pretty harmless. Only need a wink and a smile, though…” He held his finger up as a warning, “I am a very happily taken man, so I would have to politely refuse…”

He looked toward the three of them, one after the other. “This is only a copy; I was just buying the real me a good head start over that way,” he thumbed towards a random direction, gesturing with a slowly repeated tug of his thumb.

His hands came to a stop. "It is not me you want," He expressed a frown as he looked toward Penny, ceasing his little distraction he attempted to buy her time.

At first, Penny's heart raced when she saw Jamboi. Then... her eyes widened as he proceeded to make light of the situation. She laughed, despite herself and, finally, she understood. She took a couple of steps forward and reached for his hands. In the span of a minute, he had made her feel excitement, alarm, mirth, and fondness. That was, simply put, why she loved him. Nobody else could do that.

"Jammy," she said softly, "You're right that it's me. They only like my little hat, though, the one I never wear, and are desperate to have it. I've determined that it doesn't look much good on them anyhow." She reached up to stroke his face, a forearm crutch dangling from its cuff and sliding back down her arm. "Dare I say I might even have a chance to look for your shrubbery and all of the things quite a few of us have misplaced or had stolen. All I need to do is let them hold one old hat that I don't very much like and, the longer that they hold it, the more likely I think it is that others might have a chance to look as well." She willed it not to be too convoluted. She willed him to understand. She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Ashon understood her words as he leaned in close and embraced her, planting a loving kiss on her lips. "Penny, when the roof tile fell." His eyes met hers, perhaps saying far more non-verbally as he held her within his arms. He released her, his hand caressed her stomach lightly as his fingers clawed upon it. "No more Vossiriya, bad weather, worse food."

Zarina watched them both with compounding interest. She first believed Jamboi to be making a fool of himself, or far too much light of the situation. But as it went on, and she acknowledged Penny's reactions to the Yasoi's drivel, she began to understand. Skepticism turned into intrigue, and that too eventually became mild envy. The chemistry these two shared was palpable and the love for one-another manifested in simple looks brought Zarina to reflect on things she wouldn't have on this pressing situation. To be this special to another person was something she had yet to know. Something she desperately wanted to know. She remained a romantic and a dreamer, even at the face of futility.

Her arms crossed under her chest as she sought to keep in any budding emotions during this heartfelt exchange. “How long can they reasonably keep her without any proof or a confession?” she had twisted to address Afraval and made an effort to not disturb the two lovers.

Penny embraced him back, leaning into his warmth and strength. "No more Vossoriya," she murmured into his chest. "I promise." She released him. He released her. "I've brought my own food anyhow." She smiled up at him.

Meanwhile, Zarina had addressed Sienna Afraval, and the Zeno did her best to answer a hypothetical for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "They'll want to get her in and out as quickly as they can," she assured the youth, "unless the world goes crazy again." She shook her head. "In that case, honestly... all bets are off, I'd say. In that case, you act, and -" She lowered her voice. "I support you."

With that, Penny was finished, and she turned on the spot, holding her hands out. "I suppose you'll need to cuff me," she remarked, tilting her head to the side challengingly.

Sienna looked her up and down. "No, Penny. That won't be necessary."

"Never know," the teen replied with a wink. "Girl with one leg might just run off on you." She let her hands fall to her sides and exchanged a small supportive look with Ashon. "Thank you, Jammy." She turned to Zarina. "Thank you, Zazzy." She took hold of her crutches again. "I'm ready, Zeno Afraval."

Foraging for Winter

What a night. The Soirée was, by all accounts, a success. Zarina was working with three hours of sleep following the event, but there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in her - well, almost. The fresh memories of unity and joy kept her going just before an act she had premeditated with her business partner that reminded her all too much of the state of the world. Freshened up, caffeinated and looking fabulously green like Perrench pastures to match the colours of Zeno Bucks, Zazzy was ready to tackle this arduous day.

She waited inside the main patio bordering the Godsroad. The yard was still a mess and the inside, while cleaned, still smelled of party and of the few guests that were too intoxicated to leave. A little bit of people - and consequently steeds - watching was what she needed to accompany her bambalouni with coffee as she waited for Marceline to be ready.

“Mornin’.” she chirped, upbeat and with a cup prepared for her sister.

Marceline slid into the seat across from her. "Mornin!" the girl chirped, raising her cup in acknowledgement and thanks. She seemed, already, quite awake, though there were bags under her eyes. She crossed her legs and took a sip. An easy silence built between them. "You know, I barely slept a wink," the younger one admitted after a bit. "And it wasn't because of Penny either. I imagine she made the right choice and we'll all come out of it alright. 'Least... I hope so." Her voice grew solemn for a flicker before she covered the lower half of her face with her cup, taking a second sip. "Really, it was all that thumping and moaning last night," she remarked, not letting her drink down just yet. "The Tarlonese, I imagine." She shot Zarina a dim look.

“I zoned it after an hour. The thumping.” Zarina answered with a wry look returned to Marci. “Probably.” with that one word went the positive energy she had been emanating since she had woken up. It wasn't a regret but an insecurity that gnawed at her. The older girl blew on her coffee and took her sip as her eyes drifted back to the diverse group of peoples heading to work in the city.

“Ayla's got the cleaning. We,” a second wind hit her with a strong 'we' coming with an even strongest announcement. “have some acorns to hoard before the storm hits. And I've got a few friends -” her tone fluctuated to emphasize the fair weather nature of the term. “who can broker deals fast. Question is how many funds we can secure with the good will we've garnered with a year of good business.” the uncertainty prompted her to flex her facial features for a second before she took another sip from her now cooler coffee. “And then there's the question of what happens if we've gotta take a leave of absence ...”

Marceline leeched a bit of the heat from her drink and downed it. "Ugh," she teased, "Imagine being a twitching coffee fiend." She rolled her eyes and placed her cup back on its saucer. "I've got a couple leads as well. One might require a brief trip across the bay into Méatu." She shrugged. "So I'll probably be 'sick' for a couple days. This semester's classes are all easy anyway. I'll see if Jojo can grab my assignments for me."

Restless, perhaps, Marceline stood and stretched. "Come on, suunei, we have a crisis to go head off." She rolled her neck. "And if we have to take a leave of absence? Well, isn't that what twenty-five hour copies are for?" Marceline arched an eyebrow and winked. "Besides, there are two of us and, if worse comes to worst, I'll just make myself less valuable by playing crippled for a bit." She began walking towards the door. "Ip-damned warmongers. How many businesses." She paused. "And people are they gonna kill? Gods know they could never offer me enough to risk my neck for the fatherland or bloody Sancho."

Zarina lazily ascended from her seat and mimicked Marceline's efforts to stretch, ending with an unrestrained yawn. “That's a lot of twenty-five hour copies there, suunei. I didn't know you were that loaded.” she joked, mug still in hand as she finished up before leaving the porcelain item at the patio and stepped onto the Godsroad. “It's more for me anyway, you'd want at least an assistant. I can't exactly pull a fast one on my country. Nor do I really want to.”

They walked into the city, as cutting through the fields lacked the opportunities of buying foods they did not need at the market. There was no hurry to reach their contacts just yet. “... How's it going with Fiske?” Zarina brought up out of the blue, and it sounded as awkward as a parent taking interest in a child's niche hobby. “I didn't see much of him last night.”

"Oh!" Marci chirped, seeming in something of a hurry to reach the gate, "He was with my copy. They went and had a little fun together." She winked. "Now come on, Zazzy! We've got spratz to gather, and coffee!"

Zarina furrowed her brows. “Your copy? Oh, wait,” she snapped her fingers twice. “that prize of yours?” then she regarded Marci like she had something on her face. “... Any particular reason you'd do that? Other than 'fun'?”

They soon arrived at the pier where a Virangish man with a thick and white moustache awaited them. From there, Zarina worked her magic. He was the first of a decently long line of hands to shake if they were going to exact their plan swiftly.

Marceline twirled some hair around a finger. "Oh, just stuff n' things," she replied sweetly. "Also a test. I'm going to take out a couple more so we can cover more ground over the next few days." She shrugged. "If I'm a bit scarce, that's why."

Then, they reached the first of their contacts. Zarina took lead on this one. Marceline knew how to support a narrative. It was the first of many.

The day was progressing as smoothly as it could. Negotiations were nothing new, but the initial rejections from different transport groups were bigger than normal given the unusual nature of their orders. Still, their successes were enough to put the duo on track to exact their plans.

“Eighty tons already.” remarked Zarina during the luncheon break, and puffchicken eggs were on the menu. “Not nearly enough, but I've got some favors I can pull still.” she stated confidently. “You think they'll actually keep Penny?” she asked, a tad glum.

"I'd like to reach two-hundred, and I think I have a shot with my guy in Méatu, but I think we can make do with one-fifty in a pinch." Marceline shrugged. "It's just... so many variables and there's no way we can like... anticipate them all." She pursed her lips, starting to feel the bug to talk business strategies, but she tamped down on it and picked at her food, waiting for Zarina to speak again. When she did, Marci nibbled at her lower lip and glanced downwards. "I dunno." She shrugged. "But Jurgen seemed to think so and I'm learning that he really knows his shit when it comes to this kind of thing. He can read people."

Marci took a sip of her drink. "They're idiots. They're basically trying to hold Penny hostage and hoping we don't call their bluff, but it's an open secret among us students that she's the daughter of someone very important in Perrence." She shook her head. "It's like they're trying to start a war." She scowled. "I swear: half the people we know would do a better job in charge."

Her fingers drummed nervously and her analytic bravado seemed to fade. "I mean, I think so...?" Her eyes met Zarina's for a moment and she finally seemed a bit more her age. "You think so too...right?" She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and face worried. "Like, we're playing chicken with someone's life here, and it's... goddamned Penny." She took a moment to breathe and paired it with a shrug that tried to be nonchalant. "We're not like, best friends or anything, but - Ipté - she was in my apprentice group last year." Marci swallowed. "We were fuckin' roommates. We used to cook together and we both sucked at it." The fifteen-year-old choked out a small laugh, took another breath, and wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

"These people are fucked," she mewed, not quite finding the vigor that she'd been looking for. She shook her head. "I've just been putting it out of sight and out of mind and..." A third breath. "Why does the world have to so full of bad people?" Marci swallowed. "Why am I becoming one of them?" Her eyes were beseeching for just a moment before she twisted and looked away. A hand reached up, as if fixing her hair, but it ran itself across her cheek. "It's fuckin' Penny. I should be there instead of in Méatu."

“Wait.” Zarina raised her hand to interrupt Marceline. “She is?” it wouldn't have been the first time she pulled a sarcastic joke, but the cheeky smile or giggles didn't come. It seemed Zarina did not pry too much into Penny's business. “I thought she was just really loaded.” she shrugged. “In that case, yeah fuck. They're messing up. Maybe you should apply for Zenith.” she playfully nudged Marci with her elbow.

The jokes and generic remarks ceased once the subject was explored more seriously by Marci. Zarina decided it was a time to listen. No words, only considerate looks and nods. Once her sister figure had finished with her thoughts and worries, she reached out to wrap her arm around the younger teen's shoulders and pulled her closer. “For starters, you're not bad. And,” she looked out toward the pier. It was full with daily arrivals, although the unloading had since been done. “I don't think most of them are bad. It ain't a rule of nature that you suddenly become bad with power. I gotta assume it's more complicated than just doing a good or bad thing. But ... They did cross a line when they took our friend. I agree.”

Zarina leaned her head to the side, resting it over the shorter girl's. “We're gonna do something.” she whispered, eyes still locked on the busy scenery. “Sienna and I spoke of this. And if there is no change by tonight, we're gathering as many of our friends and their friends to ours. After the soirée, they should find it to be a comfortable place to talk and prepare.” calm, collected and resolute, Zarina squeezed her sister's shoulder. “Méatu can wait a day or two. If you want.”

Marci seemed lost in thought, her young face pensive. "Yeah," she decided. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." She nodded slowly. "Gods. I worked so hard for that contact..." She shook her head as if to clear it. "They're not gonna touch a hair on Penny's head, so help me." She took a quick bite of her food, swallowed, and then took another. It seemed to settle and recenter her.

"You know," she remarked after a bit, "I've been thinking a bit about how the war will affect our business." She had a bit of water and glanced out over the piers. "Conventional wisdom's that we're kind of a luxury and luxuries don't do well in war." She shook her head and, when her eyes returned to Zarina, she was wearing that predatory grin she usually did when she got an idea. "So, riddle me this, oh sister of mine," she teased, "Living through a war is a stressful business, is it not?"

Zarina raised a brow and took a moment to muse on the subject. “I suppose it is, dear sister.”

Marceline steepled her fingers together. "So then tell me, dear sister, what is one thing that people do to escape stress that could benefit us?"

Zarina's narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “They fuck?” she proposed before giggling. “They take substances, reasonably priced too. You want our stuff to be that thing they can enjoy to escape the sorry state of the world?”

She pointed finger guns at Zarina. "Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Bring on the spratz! Bring on the sugar and honey and coffee and candied apples!" She patted her tummy. "Bring on the muffins and cookies and cakes!" She grinned mercilessly. "Bring on the fountains of chocolate and those sweet sweet baybeh brandæble turnovers!" She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. "We all just need us some sugar, so screw conventional wisdom." Restlessly, eagerly, she leaned forward. "We're in an open marketplace. We have no direct competitors yet." She shook her head. "While every other merchant of luxuries slashes their prices in the hope of retaining business, we don't cut even a bit." She paused and pondered. "Maybe we even raise 'em a little because, ya know, the war effort is making things more expensive and people will understand." She took another sip of her drink and arched an eyebrow conspiratorially.

Zarina laughed the whole way, but never once in a mocking manner. Marci's tirade on their next moves was both amusing and inspiring, and goodness did the older of the duo need to hoard all these feel good moments with the war looming over her head. “Hey, hold down there, fireball. Little pepper you.” she poked her pointer finger against Marceline's shoulder with a cheeky look to her. “Let's not gouge the livelihood out of our customers. We START with premium prices, because Virang is suffering, and THEN we lower them. A little bit, just BARELY below our standard. Progressively. Then, we become champions of a better tomorrow, and for all.”

Marceline pursed her lips. "We raise them," she countered, "gradually, as the war effort grinds on and supplies become scarce." She leaned in, "But not really. Technically, we raise them, but we offer nearly constant discounts. Regular price: eight owls. Special price: five owls!" She shrugged. "You're right. We shouldn't gouge people when they're struggling." She shook her head. "So we don't effectively jack up prices for the most part. We just make like we've had to out of necessity but are trying to keep things affordable." She chewed and swallowed the last of her meal. "Makes 'em think they're getting a deal: Patriot Pandes, Oraff's Orredes, Lucky Lepdes. They'll come out in droves when they smell a discount and we look like a good corporate actor."

Marceline paused. "I'm being horrible again, aren't I?" She offered a roguish grin, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.

Zarina laughed devilishly. “You are. But it's a good idea.” things calmed as she finished her meal as well and downed it all with her ice coffee. “It's actually very similar to the first talks we had, y'know? Deals to make people wanna buy, we talked and talked about the best ways to move money from vulnerable purses into ours. It's already been a fucking year.” she shook her head before peering toward her business partner. “With you around, I think we'll manage no matter what the war tosses at us.” she reached out to give Marci a typical big sister head pat that came with a free hair-ruining rub. “Of course, I'm here to keep you honest.”

Marci bore it stoically until her eyes glance up from her unmoving face to shoo Zarina's lingering hand away. "It's crazy, isn't it?" She smiled. "Gods, I dunno what I'd do without you." She shook her head. "You always know how to talk to people. You know so many people, and you manage to do it all while being honest and decent." She lingered a moment before standing. "I'm in awe of you, Zarina." A mischievous grin followed. "When I'm all grown up, I wanna be just like you!" She plunked an incantor down onto the table and stretched, glancing up at the distant clocktower on the far side of the Harbour Gate. "Ready to scarf away some more acorns?"

“Not so sure about decent.” Zarina joked with her head lowered to cast a light shadow on a look that suddenly became hawkish. “Just like I'm about to be not-so-decent at this promotion to mom I'm getting here.” she raised her voice to "scold" Marci. “Become just like me. Hahahaha.” it was all in jolly good fun, in the end.

As they both stood to do their next bit of their work, Zarina stepped forward to embrace Marceline. “No matter how shit turns out, you know you'll always be my precious sister. Alright?” she squeezed before releasing. “Okay, dramatic-romatic-me aside, we do be needing some hoarding. I think Patrick should arrive in ten ...”

Marceline had her game face on by the time that he arrived just slightly ahead of schedule. "Right," she said, with a businesslike nod and a smile. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. She always made poor decisions when she did. "Let's do this."

And 'do this', they did. After Patrick, who was good for fourteen tons, there was Bilal and his forty-seven, and then Consuela with thirty, Marco, who'd haggled for every benny on eighteen, and Kofi, who'd managed to scrounge up eleven. Petronela, who Marci was supposed to have gone to see the next day, was unexpectedly relegated to backup. As Oraff gave way to Eshiran, the pair had - miraculously - secured exactly their stretch goal of two hundred tons, but it was tentative, pending funds and securing their carriers and storage. Marceline didn't want to think about how stretched they were. In between potential suppliers, they'd gone to almost every bank imaginable.

They'd barely even bothered with the Somnians, however, who'd refused them outright, and Garibaldi's Pawn was always going to be a last resort. MBC and the Zenith's Bank had declined them for the riskiness of their venture, as had Bluebell's and the Seafarer's Exchange for the scale of it. Marceline had tried to play up the Kerreman angle with Green Dragon, but they hadn't bought it. Leaving the bank, she'd shaken her head. "Never have looked properly Kerreman, you know." She'd let out an annoyed huff and waved the notion away.

Matters had looked grim until they'd hit pay dirt at the Banque Royale. The vice-chair of the branch had merely steepled his fingers and smiled. "Ah, mademoiselle Nader, mademoiselle Hohenfelter," he'd purred, "I drink your café near every morning." Indeed, there'd been one of their ubiquitous ceramic mugs on his table. Those had become a common sight throughout the city in the year since Zenobucks had commenced operations. "I say you have a winning formula and, if you can navigate this coming Revidien agression, then investing in your venture is... a winning idea for us, n'est-ce pas?" Of course, he'd gone on to speak of the risks. No bank was going to give them too low interest a loan, or too large a loan in this uncertain political climate, but they'd managed to secure two-thirds of what they needed from the Perrench.

That left them slightly short on funds as the sun hung heavy and golden, and Bilal and Consuela were not the sorts to take 'IOUs'. "Well," Marci remarked, "We still have Sealy's and..." She grimaced. "Garibaldi's, though we could try the other branch of MBC!" Both were dressed like proper young businesswomen, but they were, quite frankly, worn out, both physically and mentally, as the size of their gamble began to catch up with them. "Sealy's first?" She did not have high hopes. They usually offered only small and midsized loans, but they were in shipping, which was another problem, and perhaps the amount remaining might just fall within their loaning model? It was that or Garibaldi's, who would almost certainly give them the money, but would append onerous terms to it and, as many whispered, would enforce repayment... vigorously. They could try to return to MBC with their beggar's bowls out, but that was a bad look and being backed by both the Perrench and the Revidians was... risky.

Decisions, decisions. They were very close to completing their blitzkrieg maneuver to secure their future, especially with palpable discontent within the city and a bubble of anger just ready to burst in the coming days. There was no place for half-measures.

“They're going to be firm on a fat rate. And we don't have time to negotiate at this point.” Zarina bit the nail on her thumb. “But I saw we take what they offer.” a loud 'click' came with a pierce of hernail being downright cracked. She was clearly anxious. “I've got a fail-safe. Kinda. My mom. If we really need it.” her idle arm clenched the folders they had accumulated containing quotations, contracts and bills

As the sun began to approach the horizon, they had arrived to their final decision: Sealy's. If there was an establishment they would prefer owing a large interest to, it'd be them. Zarina was far too familiar with the more unsavoury loan shark types. She had absolutely no desire of having them as a first choice.

Sealy's was nearly ready to close for the day, and it was no exaggeration to say that the pair... jogged part of the distance there, employing magic both to boost their speed and keep themselves from looking disheveled. If this entire whirlwind venture had proven immensely stressful, moments like this, oddly, were not. Marceline simply ran, feeling the wind in her hair, the air in lungs, and the folders tucked under her arm wanting to break free and squirt out onto the flagstones. There was so much risk and uncertainty but, for these bare few moments, it felt like an adventure. It felt like she was living the life she'd always hoped for but never thought she might have - a life that could last indefinitely once she ate the apple on her eighteenth birthday - a life that could be free of the tethering. A weird sense of certainty came over the girl and she shot Zarina a big smile as they slowed down and took a moment to clean themselves up before entering the bank. "We got this, habibi." She flicked some hair over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Don't worry."

---

---

At first, the clerks had been less than pleased with their late arrival, but when they'd recognized Zarina and been satisfied that the pair represented a serious business venture, they'd been ushered upstairs, where the manager, Maryanne, had decided to entertain them. She'd even gone so far as to remain after hours on their behalf.

She, too, was in possession of one of those ubiquitous mugs, using it as a makeshift flowerpot on her desktop. Behind her hung a portrait of Isidore Sealy, the famous Enthish shipping magnate and owner of the bank. After initial pleasantries and some discussion of their business plan, the trio got down to the meat of the issue. "You have to understand our hesitancy," the Enthishwoman was saying. "Your venture is promising, but times are uncertain and this falls somewhat outside of our business model." She furrowed her brow, dipping her quill in some ink as she continued to take notes. "You say you've secured your supply, at least in theory?"

Zarina nodded. "They're reliable people. We have written agreements." She was already prepared to produce them.

The manager nodded and raised a hand to forestall the actual handover. "I am going to need to see those and look into their financials." She paused. "as well as yours, out of due diligence, but we'll send your papers off to a printer and you'll retain your originals." She tapped her quill twice on the paper and leaned back in her chair, considering, her expression very much like Mr. Sealy's behind her. "And transport?" she inquired after a moment.

Marci and her partner glanced at each other, the former deciding to take this one. "The majority is accounted for," she assured Maryanne. "Pending a few more discussions with our logistical partners, we expect the rest to come together over the next few days, especially once they see we've secured supply and capital."

Maryanne scowled, unconvinced, and drummed the desktop with her fingers. She paused to consider and the pair knew that things like this were usually not good. Zarina opened her mouth to offer assurances, but she was preempted by the manager. "You will politely inform those you are still waiting for word back from that you have chosen to ship with the Sealy Consortium instead." She tapped her quill twice on her paper, as if rendering it final. "Our fleet arm will be your majority logistical partner for the duration of a five-year fully-binding contract, exact details to be finalized by appointment with my superior in..." She trailed off, consulting a very busy-looking calendar on the wall. "Two months' - No, two and a half months' time." She stood and marked something on her calendar. "On the 25th of Ardanes, to give Pa- Mr. Sealy some lead time."

Marceline's eyes widened and she turned to Zarina wordlessly. This was more than they could've hoped for, but they'd be putting the future of their venture squarely in the hands of a rather predatory Enthish shipping magnate and... the quickly retracted 'Pa' had not gone unnoticed. Maryanne was his... daughter!? "Y-you'll have to understand our need to discuss matters," Marceline replied after a moment of stunned silence. "Of course, Zenobucks will remain wholly owned by its current shareholders." She worked hard to keep the note of uncertainty from her voice.

Maryanne nodded and seated herself again and leaned forward, knitting her fingers together. "Naturally," she agreed. "We're not interested in selling coffee, Miss Hohenfelter." She nodded in Zarina's direction. "Miss al-Nader. Only shipping it, in bulk, to a reliable retail partner with significant potential for expansion." She smiled, and it was neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant. "Are you such a partner?"

Zarina nodded and so did her partner. "I would imagine we both agree on that," the former replied, "Though, naturally, we will have to conduct our own checks."

"For due diligence," Marceline added.

"You are, of course, welcome and even encouraged to do so," Maryanne assured them. "You will find our financials in order, our carriers are neutral-flagged, and our terms suitably generous." She clasped her hands together. "Our assurances are honest and made in good faith. I do warn you, however," she concluded, "that this is not a negotiation." She pushed the paper she'd been writing on towards them on the desk, and it was all fairly mundane matters, similar to what they'd discussed. "You may accept our terms as written or you can try Garibaldi's" Her smile was pleasant enough, but she was a wolf through and throiugh. Maryanne held her hand out for them to shake on the tentative deal.

Zarina stared at the hand presented to her. She instinctively reached for a shisha pipe to her right, a typical behaviour she had when discussing business in a more relaxed setting. It was her tell - a sign that she was about to make an offer of her own. “One month and a half.” she stated, firmly. “Time is too valuable of a commodity to waste, especially now. If we're going to have such a tight venture, then we expect you to be fully on-board with the aggressive strategy we've proposed.”

Zarina looked to her business partner with a slight smile. “If we can agree on that, then I don't foresee any issues. And you've seen our expansion plans for countries such as Enth in the very near future. Less-than-a-year near if we're all in on this with alacrity.”

Maryanne scowled. "I'm not certain you understand, so I'm going to make matters clearer: that is Mr. Sealy's earliest availability, and he will want final say on this deal." She started to draw her hand back. "While we understand the urgent nature of your venture, we have to work within the constraints we're given." She looked disappointed.

Then, Marceline darted in and took the hand before it fell away. "We accept, of course," she replied. "As my partner has already made clear." They shook, tentatively, as Marci shot Zarina an apologetic look. "But perhaps we could pen a short-term agreement - a sort of test run - to cover the time until your senior is able to attend?"

The manager pursed her lips. "In theory, I'm open to it." She sat back down and reached into the desk cabinet to pull out a boilerplate agreement. "I will need both of your written consent, of course, and that will be binding."

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm.

Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm. Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

Ten minutes had passed and Marceline was skipping, springing high up into the air with each step. "We did it!" she proclaimed boldly, landing nimbly and spinning a half-pirouette. Her dress flared out around her like a daffodil. "You and me, suunei! We fucking did it!" She waved the paper about and held it out towards Zarina. "It should probably go in the folder now," she self-corrected, straightening out a battered corner. "Before it goes 'poof!' just like all our money!"

Zarina was a little more composed than her younger equal. Still, her bright and wide smile said it all. She was quick to swipe the paper from Marceline and shove it into the plethora of paperwork they had accumulated. “That we did, suunei. Now we just gotta actually enforce this shit. Chances are we'll need to grease up some more wheels.” she remarked with healthy pessimism but a whole lot of optimism sprinkled in as well. “'Our' money?” she snorted. “I've got an old Varennes we can pop open tonight, before we get our guests to talk about the whole Penny thing. Figured we treat ourselves for once.”

"Okay, okay!" Marceline relented, "Poof like their money!" She returned to skipping, hair bouncing merrily as she went. "And poof like our entire futures if we lose their money!" She half-spun and smiled. "Livin' on the edge," she exclaimed, "but we've got this." She shook her head. "I dunno why, but I just think we really do." She took a deep breath and rushed back to grab hold of Zarina's hands. "This is the start of it all," she promised, not yet having come down from her high. The sun was vast and golden now, headed for the jagged horizon of rooftops and spires that was Ersand'Enise.

"And as for your wine," she replied, "You bring Ayla - because it just isn't a party without her." Marci winked mischievously. "I just might be coaxed to wait before heading to Méatu and not -"

POOF!

Just like that, Marceline was gone.

Zarina’s Shitlist

Record of people that really managed to piss me off. There are different degrees of ‘shit’, but if you got here, you must’ve really fucked up. Reading this list without my approval will also earn you a spot here. Fuck you.

The Shittiest Shitbags

• Augusto Frannem-ass - You made me kill people for whatever sick gain of yours. How much more of a piece of worthless garbage do you have to be to use me like that. I don’t wish death on many, but I definitely do so to you. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU!!!!!!

The Shitty dirtbags

• Trypano Something - It’s bad enough that you just bite people’s fingers off, but you’d let my friend Yuliya die for a quick buck too?! And THEN you have the fucking nerve to appeal to my sensitivities with that slime being ALIVE?! What about my friend?! Piece of unlikable trash. FUCK YOU.
• Fiske Fagtraut - I have no idea what she sees in you. But I dislike you. I know you fucked up and she paid for it. You’re on thin ice. I know you steal shit from my house too. FUCK YOU.
• Yvain Bitchnon - You owe me a lot. You’re staying here until you pay me back. Also, we all saw you side with that thing like the flaccid lesser man you are. And to think you’re gonna lead our biggest ally someday. FUCK YOU.
• Arch Bitch Al-ASS-a - You cause a deadly mess and slap my teacher? Fuck off, I don’t care how prestigious you are. You’ve then imprisoned my friend and tried to fuck our moment of unity. I hate you with all my heart. FUCK YOU.

The Shitters

• Ingy Sea Giant - I never had a real problem with you, but you are one terrible decision maker. You wave some demon around and help these shitty fuckers nearly kill me and my friend. I thought better of you. Fuck you.
• Desmond - This broke my heart. I don’t care how much you were keen on turning on that thing, you risked my life and the life of my friend for material goods. I would never do that to any of you, or even people I don’t know. I don’t understand. I need to understand. Fuck you.
• Patrick Peacock - You think I don’t realise you’re shorting me on those sugar deliveries? You condescending fuck. But your time’s coming, bud. It’ll be glorious. Fuck you.

One Special Person

It had been a long and arduous day. Business deals were made, slimes nearly killed her friend and friendships were forged. And yet Zarina’s journey was over. The hours of Dami blindsided Zarina with her Zenobucks outlet closing right as she was inclined to get another drink.

Time flew. And the imminent departure of the person she thought she had formed a special connection with hit her like a sack of bricks. Deep down, she hoped this chaotic day would never end.

She brought home leftover pastries and quickly made tuna pizza from the dough she had prepared in the early morning. It wasn't great pizza, but it was edible. The dough was a tad overcooked. Zarina, on the other hand, was undercooked. Little effort was put into looking fabulous. It was beyond her ability to look as fresh as a first date to someone she knew top to bottom quite thoroughly already. Except for the hair, always silky smooth and brushed beforehand with a bow to keep some more rebellious locks together.

Alone, in her room with the animals penned in Ayla’s room, she waited to have a final moment with Miret without any interruption. The pizza was on a towel draped over her bed, like a picnic but indoors.

Everything was just right to make a pleasant final date, but how was she actually going to say goodbye? How could she truly articulate what she felt? Was it wrong that she wanted more than just being another lover in the harem? The overthinking and stress caused Zarina to bite through the left thumb’s nail until she reached the corner.

"Hey luuchy," came a soft voice, and Miret appeared, hanging upside-down through her open window. "Trying to stoke my appetite, are you?" She hopped through the window, landing in a crouch, and took two steps toward Zarina, already reaching out to heal the damage.

Zarina deep dive in her thoughts left her vulnerable to a quick startle. “Luuchy yourself, Luuchy.” she extended her hand that needed healing, and then reached for Miret's once the deed was done. “I figured my lure would work. You underestimated me, Daring-one.” she winked as she seized a slice of pizza with her idle hand, folded it and hovered it close to the Yasoi's mouth. “Bet they don't make pizza with my special ingredient back in Tarlon.”

"I wouldn't be so sure," Miret replied, before taking a bite. "Cal can find just about anything, you know." She chewed a bit, positively unladylike as she continued. "So, what is it?" She smiled coyly. "Love?"

Zarina tried to stifle her grin and failed pretty handily. “Nooooooo ...” her legs swung restlessly as the answer took its time to come. “It's ...” after a brief staring contest she giggled. “Okay, yeah, it's love. Screw you for making it suck now.” she took a hearty bite herself.

“What's up with that Cal guy anyway?” Zarina inquired, barely concealing her distaste over the mention of another individual in Tarlon. “Isn't he, like, the guy that was selling drugs during the fights?”

Miret sighed. "Yeah, he's one of those Luuntese 'providers'." She shrugged. "He has his place, I guess." She took a few more bites, eagerly. "But he can't make a buudvuud like you can." The statement came with a smile and a giggle. "Luuchy, this is fuckin' delicious. Can you just like... cook for me forever?" The smile went from mirthful to appreciative, and then it fell away. "I love you." She glanced down at the food, or maybe just her lap, and then up at Zarina with an uncharacteristic shyness.

Zarina perked up, her heart skipping a beat. “Really? I thought I overcooked it and ...” her nervous ticks flared along with her muttering that spoke over Miret's words, or rather given how quiet she had gotten, were more so in the background.

“I-I ...” it felt unreal. The butterflies in her stomach were poised to make her cough out her pizza with how intense they were. Needless to say, she was flushed. “I love you too. Fuck.” she reached for both of Miret's hands and possessively clenched. “I love you. So. Much.”

It was her turn to look up to her lover with watery and pleading eyes. “Don't go.” she begged with a mousy voice, but one that didn't stutter or show any hesitation. “Please.”

A tear rolled, unbidden, down Miret's cheek. "Godsdammit, Luuchy." It dripped onto the pizza, wet and salty and soaking in. "I'm trying to eat here." Her voice was small, though, lacking most of its usual puckishness. She forced herself to swallow, put the pizza down, and leaned in wordlessly to simply embrace Zarina. That was all that she wanted to do. She didn't know why, but it was all that she could think of, even if it wasn't enough.

Zarina held for dear life, perhaps a bit too hard at some point, with her face dug into Miret's shoulder. She let the whimpers come out first before saying anything else. “Stay.” she pleaded again. “Don't go-” another invited sob nearly had her swallow her word. “-back.” the less experienced of the two swallowed in an attempt to compose herself. “I'll love you forever. And never let you get hurt.” she whispered by Miret's long ear she loved to nibble. “So you won't live this long life alone.”

Miret managed to separate to arms' length. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Quietly, one of her hands slid from Zarina's shoulder and pressed itself to her heart. "I never will," she said with all the gravity and solemness that befit an unshakeable promise. "I'll always be in there and you'll always be in here." Her other hand pressed itself to her heart. "But that's..." She shrugged weakly. "Shitty, empty stuff and it fades over time and distance." She regarded Zarina, eyes wide open, even if they were puffy and red-rimmed. "I won't always be here, but I'll always be in your life and, if you'll have me, you'll always be in mine."

Miret sniffed and gathered herself a bit. "This stupid war won't kill me. I know it and, if it does, Tyrel will move heavens and earth to bring me back. That's how she is." There was a deep breath, as if she had decided on a path. "You're good and honest and smart and beautiful and I would never hurt you so help me Ypti, cross my heart." She made the gesture with her free hand. "But I want you to live. I know you don't like our Tarlonese way, but here I am: Tarlonese. Don't pine for me. Don't set things or people aside. I'll always be yours even if I'm not there at the moment. I'll be yours for as long as both of us last, okay?"

Zarina shivered. Miret's words did little to pacify the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked away, unwilling to accepted the vague notions of the heart and memories bound to fade. Until Miret echoed exactly what was ringing in her head. Zarina was blurry, but knew her crying lover was there. She reached out to cup the Yasoi's wet cheek, lovingly stroking it with her thumb. “Gods, I love you.” she uttered with a near muted voice.

“I-” Zarina chuckled nervously, sniffling intensely. “I dunno about smart, I did fall for a Tarlonese.” she jested and nodded at her lover's proposition. “I want you in my life, Miret.” she spoke with great clarity as the tears dried on her face and the sobs died down. “But I'm a greedy, greedy girl. An avaricious little dragon.” her hand reached for Miret's nape to tug her a little closer. “I wanna be that one person ...” she whispered as if she was confessing a secret. “That one only person that makes you heart skip a beat like you do mine. Me,” she leaned in closer, lips so closer to the other's. “and me alone.”

She stopped right before their lips met. “But I know I can't. I-I know.” she began to tear up again. “I'll be sad. For a bit. But I'll survive, just like you.” she forced a smile, one that tried to radiate some confidence. “And I'll see you again, and we can try this again. No War. No fucking Tarlon. No fucking hating myself over loving. Just us.”

There it was: the forbidden bit at the end: No fucking Tarlon. Miret swallowed. She often felt the same way. While Chad had always been a believer in the cause - or was it ironic in his sometimes infuriating manner - and Tyrel's grievances were kept mostly private and released only in little bursts of annoyance, Miret had often found herself questioning and straying.

That was... until Solcuura. Until Sairax'Solcuun and what she had seen at the palace: the casual decadence and cruelty of the royals, how most of the ruling class had simply used their money and power to flee and become parasites elsewhere, how the Queen, herself, had threatened to blow the towers and wipe out half of the city unless she was allowed to walk free. She had heard Chad's recollection of how the death ray had been modified to turn on the city if need be. She had walked the streets and witnessed for herself the dark dens and the rot, the slavery, the exploitation, the blinding of timewalkers and their use as mules for others' addiction. She had seen it all and her certainty that her people were wrong had wavered. Tarlon did not keep slaves. Tarlon did not blind timewalkers. Tarlon did not allow the consumption of aberrations except by express permission of the people's councils.

She said nothing of that, though. She didn't want any conflict now. She still didn't trust her leaders. Likely, they were doing this for their own reasons. Life was not the luminous, wonderful thing she'd thought it was as a child, venturing through forests and ruins with Tyrel, Chad, Velani, and Ashon. People in power exploited. People in power lied. Then, she caught herself. "Hey, bucko," she griped, after a long moment had passed. "I happen to live there, ya know." She wiped some tears away, and did the same for Zarina's. "But this pizza recipe, I want it. I'll cook it for myself and Chad and Tyrel and it'll remind me of you, okay?" She nodded encouragingly, partly to convince herself. "It'll remind me of you until all this bullshit blows over and we can be us, again: just us." She lifted it to her mouth, stained with tears and all, and took another bite. "Cold and extra salty," she laughed. "Mmm mmm!"

But would you still love what I'd become after so much time and distance? Zarina thought just as she expressed her wishes. She was convinced this had gone beyond a honeymoon phase, that it was genuine. And yet, by the nature of what they both were and the state of their worlds, she could only begin to doubt. Would I love you?

“Okay, I didn't mean it like that.” Zarina conceded with a hint of a more genuine smile one her. “Fuck our countries for keeping us apart. Fuck 'em for making love so complicated ...” she snuggled up to the pizza-enjoying Miret, seeking her warmth one last time. “Mmm. Look up mozzarella and marinate some tuna in veggie oil. That's it. Oh and overcook it. And love, don't forget loads o' love.” she looked up and stole a bite from the Yasoi's slice. “Now I need something to remember you by. And I'm almost out of sex-lettuce.” she grinned like a fox before going for another bite, but this time on her lover's jawline.

“I meant it, though,” she looked up with wide, adoring eyes and a slightly deeper voice than her normal - a result from all the sobbing. “if we wanna try this again later ... I wanna be the one. Not just another one.” she clammed up, hesitating to ad one final bit. “See me like Tyrel sees that beautiful boy. Chad, right?”

It was all going well. It was painful, but it was right. Miret could feel it. "I shall commit the recipe to heart, even the extra crispiness from my crispy lil' fucker here."

She smiled softly, but then came the part at the end, and her heart tightened. She looked down, not trusting herself to meet Zarina's eyes. "Luuchy, no," she squeaked. "Please no. Don't ask that of me." She swallowed, threading her fingers nervously together. "It is the giving and receiving of Ypti's pleasure, freely and joyously among the community, that keeps us together, and people want me. They... need me." Abruptly, she hugged her knees together. "You are my luush'elar. You are the one my heart beats for, but I cannot deny the simple and necessary pleasures of Ypti to others when they are mine to give." She brought her brows together, concerned, the taste of burnt pizza still sooty in her mouth.

This was not what Zarina wanted to hear. But it was also what she expected. She wondered why she even bothered, and her heart knew why. She hoped to be the exception of a cardinal rule Miret's people lived by. There would be nothing more special. She was genuinely selfish in this very moment, beyond the perspective of a Tarlonese, by putting this on her lover. She knew this, but she also needed it.

With a clenched jaw, Zarina kept her piece. She wanted to be mad and call out this supposed "necessity". Had she fucked anyone else in her soirée? Did unity and friendship require the most intimate and raw pleasures? Passion and sadness were melding with a growing frustration she couldn't air out and it was asphyxiating.

“I need you ...” she muttered under her breath.

She shook her head, resolved to not make this more painful than it already was. She reached out for Miret's hand to tug it off her knee and squeezed. “It's okay.” she leaned in to press her lips upon the Yasoi's forehead. “I'm sorry. Being your luush'elar ... Is enough.” It was enough, for now, but she wasn't cruel enough to add that final bit. She shot a reassuring smile. “I suppose your one special girl being a Huusoi is already a pretty big thing, huh?”

A thought just hit Zarina as she wordlessly hopped off her bed and dug an ornate, five-inch high wooden box from a closet. Inside was a black egg with scale-like patterns on the shell. Cupping it with both hands, she offered it to Miret. “Keep it with you, it's kinda hard to break.” she nodded to ensure it was okay to take. “I'll be with you, in a way. And when danger finds you alone, eat it.” her hands slid over Miret's once she'd taken it and closer them around the Primordial Egg, for her to keep.

Miret hadn't expected any lashing out, but she'd prepared for it anyhow. It was moments like this one that reminded her of how different they were: of how doomed this all was. She swallowed, painfully, about to speak and fill the silence, but then Zarina did, and she listened. "You are a pretty big thing," She admitted in return, managing a teasing smirk.

But then it had come time for gifts. She cradled the strange egg, knowing what it was. "So this is what dragons..." She trailed off and grinned. "You are just the best thing ever." She held it to her heart. "I will always treasure it," she promised. "I will never lose it," she swore. "And when I'm totally up shit creek at some point and about to die and not be bailed out by Tyrel again, I might even use it." She leaned in close. "And I won't be as far away as you think, you know." She winked. "Trust me. Okay?"

The Hourglass Order

---

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Abdel’s head pounded to the systolic rhythm that hammered relentlessly, causing him to rudely wake up. His heart was not beating fast, but it was beating hard, so much so that it overshadowed the intense prickling in his feet that caught up quickly enough.

It was impossible that he felt those so early, he had taken an aberration just a few days ago! His hands hastily reached for his limbs to find a wound, only to come out empty. He was, in fact, feeling las hormigas with the painful dullness that came with their endless gnawing. Distraught, her smacked his palms over his face to wallow, only to find a wetness on them.

Blood …?

From his nose he found some of it still leaking. It then came back to him, the sacrifice he had done for the others to keep the Arch Zeno in check. It all made sense. Dayanara went to lick his face as he recognized what had happened. Quickly he drew toward their last known location.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …

Just one heartbeat, one that came with a less familiar energy signature than the others.

Zarina, Tku, Rikard? Where are you?

No matter where he searched, he could find them. And yet Alassa Tojarra, the reason they had risked their lives, slowly awoke from a chemical coma without an ounce of resistance put onto her. Something had happened. He had to intervene.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …

“We’re going.”

Abdel pushed himself off with his arms and took a step-

“Argh fuck!” he growled and slammed his fist onto a nearby surface. The ants were far more intense than he had estimated, leading to an acute pain that quickly vanished. It wasn’t so much difficult to walk as it was unusually uncomfortable. He could only imagine the damage going on down there.

He soldiered on, Skuggvars in tow, until he infiltrated the ruined Enclave.

♫

Once in range, he stomped onto the gravel with his final step to get the magicless Arch Zeno’s attention, hiding the pain induced wince from the gesture. He stood a good thirty yards away from her.

“What did you do to them?” he asked, one hand on Qadira’s shoulder to keep her close, while Dayanara circled around Tojarra.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Alassa Tojarra was unafraid and her regular pulse was proof of it. Even magically naked, pillaged and defeated she did not falter. It made Abdel a tad tachycardic.

The Arch Zeno shrugged. “They’re gone. Far away from here.” she rubbed her bruised chin. “If you’re here to avenge them, make it quick.” she barely acknowledged Abdel, and only gave a cautionary glance at the nearby dragon.

“I can’t let you go.” Abdel, in an attempt to look stern and immovable, looked rather green with his typically teenage voice. One thing he did nail was a proper stance, but even that looked so little to Alassa’s stone hard posture.

“I will not bring them back.” she spat back viciously as she turned around toward one of the violet buildings. “Kill me or leave, darhannic, but don’t waste my time.”

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Even in her hate and haste, she never faltered. Abdel was intimidated. This wasn’t like Niallus, an easily impressed young man that hardly thought his actions through. This was a titan, even without magic.

“I’m not Darhannic.” he corrected, sounding like a petulant child called a no-no name.

“I recognize your type. And the way you do things. Like that detestable girl.”

Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub.

“That’s what you savage sand apes do.”

Abdel recognized the heartbeats, the tone and the sentiment. For a moment, he almost thought he had been talking to his shower-thought self. The aggressive voice he consistently argued and fantasised with in his alone time. And there it was, under the form of a hateful woman. Such clarity was short lived as his feet ached once more. Or perhaps this interruption only accentuated his increasingly extreme feelings.

“I can’t kill you. You will bring them back.” he answered somewhat meekly, but made a show of force with a light surge to her nerves, to which she inhaled deeply and flexed her muscles.

“You’re the one that stopped me. Tethered and strong.” she smirked. “I can see you tremble. You’ve done all that just to get me.” Tojarra opened her arms to taunt him. “If you’re not going to kill me, then you may as well let me go. They won’t execute me - not after this. Not with what's become of the world.”

Lub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dub.

He could barely hear her anymore. His heart was killing him from all the anxiety and hesitation he was feeling.

Just put her to sleep. You must!

Abdel drew to capacity quickly enough. Tojarra didn’t even flinch despite her lack of defences. She only turned her head to grin his way.

She’ll never give them away. I can see it. She’s suffered everything I could do to her before.

The tethered clenched his fist, only to then suddenly fall onto his knee and wheeze out a grunt of pain. His legs shook in overexertion, prompting her Skuggvar to poke his side with her snout.

“You’re finally getting it.” uttered Tojarra with a voice that mellowed from her taunting and resentment demeanour. “You won’t ever find them if you kill me, and giving me to the new administration won’t provide the justice you want. All you can do is …” she began to walk. “Let me go.”

I need to keep her here! I need to do SOMETHING! I need to-

Drops of blood fell from his nostrils once more. In his overthinking he had pushed himself once more. All for nothing. Lost and forlorn as a child that thought himself more mature and harder than he truly was.

-for them!

For Them …

♫

Abdel walked into the Merchants’ dorm’s kitchen, sweaty and with a sleeveless green top going along with old, brown shorts.The young teen seized a cup of water and drenched his head to cool off as he took a seat.

The budding handiman had been making extensive use of his regained mobility to work his masonry and carpentry. An art that one would believe magic had made obsolete, but oftentimes the finesse and meticulousness of the art were lost to the grand scheme of things. Much like the overly ‘perfect’ gems many binder counterfeiters made, the same would be said about the genetically adequate works commonly made by mages. Good money was found to those who kept the practice alive and even more so to those who married magic into it seamlessly.

He didn’t do it without help, as Maid Melana followed soon after. She had been the help - the one to keep the materials in order and helped the builder when requiring more than a single pair of hands. “Thanks for the help.” said a still nearly heatstroked Abdel as he regarded the puppet, although he clearly wasn’t addressing the inanimate object.

A pair of hands clasped the jug as Maura came forward to fill the boy’s glass up again. “There is something to be said about watching a strong man working hard with his tools; how could we allow the possibility slip us by?” She smiled with that cheeky charm as she considered the words. It was nice to spend time in Abdel’s company, and even if they were just casually interacting, just feeling his presence near her made her feel happy, content even. They have been together for nearly a year now, and with others already vividly discussing their marriage plans, such thoughts were not lost with her, especially as she was assisting Ashon and Penny with their wedding arrangements. They were still young, but perhaps one day… she smiled shyly as she moved to pass him a towel so he could dry himself off. “Have you given thought as to your plans for your special project?”

Abdel couldn’t get enough of the freshwater, both to wash himself and to drink. It really was that hot! “Ahhh.” he forgot his manners and went full commoner in his indulgences, if only briefly. “Actually,” he leaned forward, elbows resting over his thighs, as he looked at Maura. “I have. I got inspired yesterday.” his eyes shifted to the helper puppet and gestured for it to come closer. “They keep hammering the use of healing in binding classes, and here I am building stuff. So I thought …” with the puppet at arm’s reach, he seized one of the delicate, wooden hands to study it. “Why not meet them halfway?”

With that cryptic response, he reached for his bag with his free hand to reveal an arm similar in dimensions to the puppet’s, albeit a tad thicker and clearly made of a new material. Furthermore, there were goma tubes sticking out of the stump. “It took me all evening to make Ironwood work, but I think it came out alright. I was thinking: If weapons can have these manas flow through them, why not puppets? Like people do with blood.”

Maura simply smiled as she watched him. There have been many Yasoi refugees recently fleeing the war in the south, and it is not uncommon for the casualties to be maimed in some way. She mused as she imagined him feeling that empathy in his heart to help them, and after engaging with the puppets; it made sense. “There are prosthetics in Segonia where you have to use the gift to mobilize. They are very difficult to manage, and are inanimate. We don’t know of any that allow manas to flow through them, though…” she raised her eyebrow in curiosity, hoping he could expand his thought process. “Are you thinking of helping others with them?”

Abdel’s eyes flickered between Maura and the puppet. He drew, just mildly, to observe the many functions that occurred within himself and his beloved. The blood flow, in particular, had his interest. He imagined the same could be done to puppets, and eventually to people with new limbs. “I think so, yeah.” he beamed at the part-Segonese puppet master. “I think the first step is to see if it works on things that aren’t alive. Don’t you think?” the hand he had been holding was then twisted, and his magnetic pull caused the elbow joint of the maid to loosen enough for the forearm to be carefully extracted.

“Would you mind opening her for me, love?” he inquired with a sweet, cotton-like voice he often employed to calm Maura in one of her monologues. “I’d like to see the core.”

“Now, what is the magic word~?” Maura cooed in return, simply to prolong the interaction to tease him. She allowed the puppet to bend to allow comfortable access to its innermost workings for maintenance, otherwise known as its core. “Though, if you damage her, we are placing the repair bill on your tab.” in a gentle reminder to be careful.

Abdel rolled his eyes playfully. “Pretty please.” he uttered right before diving into the complex workings of the prime puppet. Fascinated but by no means surprised, he immediately got to work. The wires he had crafted stretched from the bicep, through the shoulder and snaked through the metal structural beams to eventually reach the mana-filled container serving as a means to increase the capacity of the puppet and a base to reconstruct it in the case of destruction. “It’s kind of like a heart, isn’t it?” he remarked, nose still dug deep into his work.

The main conundrum was making an opening to connect the tubes. “... You won’t get too mad if I make a mess, right?” he looked up to Maura sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes as he asked that question, as she gave him a playful smile. “If we did, we certainly chose the wrong boy to be dating.” She stuck her tongue out towards him in that mischievous manner. “Just as long as you clean up afterwards.”

Abdel chuckled and shook his head. He got to work, meticulously creating an opening onto the metal haul. The carving was slow, minute and did not go all the way. Instead, he made enough of a gap to fit the tub in before locking it in place. There was blood magic used to finish the hole, very minor but still blood magic nonetheless, prompting Abdel to look up to his partner if there were any objections.

Once the tube was plugged in to serve as the puppet’s fire artery, he observed the mana-charged liquid flow … For a second. “Ah.” he looked disappointed. “There’s nothing to really make it flow, is there?”

Maura simply shook her head, “Puppets don’t have a beating heart inside of them, even if they can be lifelike.” She paused for a moment, “You could use a waterskin, connect it to both sides, then you could squeeze it like a heart, probably. Might need some refinement.” She used her chair to go backwards, then head over to pick up a waterskin and bring it back for Abdel to use.

Abdel drilled a second hole to allow the other extremity of the artery within the unbeating ‘heart’ as none of the fluid ever made it to the end. “You’re right,” he agreed, lips pursed as he rethought the process. “if we could actually make that core take the consistency of a waterskin, then maybe you could make it work like a heart?” with the item in hand, he carefully approached it to the metallic nut in the centre of the puppet. “Ideally, we make the material change without removing anything.” with a lack of chemical magic, however, he relied solely on binding magic. And he was no Trypano when it came to memorising all materials.

Maura spent a good few moments considering what they could use, taking some inspiration from their surroundings. “We have an idea, though we might need some prototypes first. We need to make an internal structure, and this could be binding some springs together, then we surround this by thin sheets of metal. We would need a value to prevent the liquid going back the wrong direction. Then, we wield the sheets and tubes together, so it is a tight seal. If we squeeze it, it should pump around in one direction, and drain back into the heart.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Do you think that is something you can put together?”

Abdel thought about it. In his musing and having his marble presented physically before him, he realized his masterwork needed far more work to be done. “I can.” he confirmed. “But it will take some time. A lot of it.” with that concession, he manipulated the tubes and made the fluids return into the core before he quickly sealed the holes. He did not remove the tubes, however. “The arm should still work, but you would have to learn to use it.” he warned, just as he employed his magnetic magic to make the puppet’s fingers wiggle and the forearm to expand ever so slightly into something that resembled a metal buckler. “It’d work much better if it had a steady and direct stream of power but …” he gesture his index finger to prompt the puppet to punch the floor, prompting the stone to leave a small fissure on impact. “I suppose ironwood with mild enhancement will do!” he grinned impishly at his girlfriend. “She might even be able to lift you up, now!”

“Why would we need her for that, when we have you~?” Maura teased as she held her arms out towards him.

Abdel tried to hide his big fat smile, but there it was. He leapt at her and caught Maura out of her chair for a mighty lift. His noodle arms weren’t so weak nowadays with all that carpentry and masonry. “Downside with me is I don’t take orders!”

She smiled mischievously, “The best ones don’t need them.” as she leaned forward to place a fond kiss on the boy’s lips.

Lub-dub.

♫

In the endless ringing to tinnitus in his ears, the merciless pounding of his distressed hard and the cruel pricking of his feet, he found some sort of clarity. No other sounds could penetrate his mind. None except the heart of the woman he had no real control over.

No.

The blood that ran through her body flowed so perfectly. The answer to a question that gnawed at his mind for days was right before him.

The silence enlightened him: There was nobody to cast judgement. Nobody could see what was behind the mask. Nobody other than a prisoner deemed kindred, and the Gods - the very ones that cursed him and his tethered friends into this pitiful existence.

“It’s not for them. Or for their Justice.” he muttered, barely audible to Tojarra but enough for her to stop and turn. “I don’t wanna kill you. Or give you away. Because I agree with what you stand for.” it was still Abdel’s voice, the non-threatening cracked one that oozed of awkwardness, but it was charged with purpose. And his intense gaze under his worker’s beret matched the Arch’s.

“Another one of these pathetic games? Or are you serious?” she shook her head and reconsidered even the notion of entertaining this.

“But I can’t let someone like you just walk free.” he shook his head like she did. “It makes me so angry to see how vapid and cruel this effort for Justice has made you. We could have done good work together if you weren’t such a resentful hag that would sooner see the world burn than let a few clueless peons run free in their sand dunes. Or denigrate someone for where they were born.”

Lub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dub …

The tachycardic melody only drove him more as he reached into his only pouch where something uneasy wiggled more and more.

Tojarra chuckled into a laugh. “You don’t know a thing ab-” she quickly turned to the right to face an unusually close gurgle.

Qadira was merely staring at her with no signs of hostility.

With a deep exhale, Alassa Tojarra straightened herself and looked back, only to be greeted by a massive, leathery maw that sucked in the entirety of her head. She couldn’t utter a word, and a few seconds in, she lost consciousness.

The Arch Zeno fell unconscious once more.

Although this time, there would be no friendship circle or ambitions for a brighter tomorrow.

There was only fire and malign inspiration, as the heartbeats silenced themselves into a bitter murmur.

Like my friends, I won’t give up on you. Nor will I let them, or yourself, ruin the work you’ve done, Arch Zeno Tojarra.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Hider

The waves did not roar or crash. They were but tiny ebbs instead, most leaving lines in the briny sand less than an inch apart. The great shallow lake that they were part of shimmered off into the distance like a mirage before merging indistinctly into the horizon. Not so very far away, a great flock of flamingos stood among the shallows, their bills digging beneath the water's surface and into the sand below for food.

Tyrel released Juulet's hands immediately. "I don't like you," she admitted, "but I don't particularly wanna fight you." She shook her head. "No. It was something you said, about the lecherous old men and the fact that I'm a Damy-damned puppet." She took a couple of steps back, glancing out at the lake. "Out of everyone there, you were the only one to pick up on it, even if you had to be a total bitch about it." She nodded and turned back to face the other youth, her mirror image.

There was likely more that she was considering saying, but this was her attempt to feel things out first. Juulet was hostile - almost comically, compensatingly so. Maybe that was a good thing. Tyrel felt no obligation to impress her like she did with everyone else, even Miret. Maybe it was a bad thing and would lead to a fight. Maybe she'd have to kill or be killed.

“What can I say?” shrugged the more belligerent Avatar. “I've got a knack for sniffing out frauds and creeps. Well, in your case, creep-magnets.” she grinned mockingly, staring right into the Tarlonese's eyes. There was that madness that so many talked about deep inside those lilac pupils. Something wrong about this person. Was it truly insanity, though? Or was there something else, something Tyrel could potentially even understand as she stood as her Constantian counterpart.

Juulet then turned her back to Tyrel, an established threat and powerhouse she had long recognized, so she could look at the pretty sights. It was a nice change of scenery - being warped to the sea rather than that misty lake for any sort of borderline life-threatening encounter.

She took a deep breath, and then exhaled with an obnoxious 'Ahhhh~'. “So what do you want here, Tyrel'yrash'something? Certainly not a form a friendship, then you'd risk me giving a shit.” she turned her head to catch the one-legged figure's frame at the corner of her eye. “Can't have that, then you'd have to pretend some more, hmmm? So. Sad. I cry everytime. Sniff.”

“No, really, what the fuck do you want?”

Tyrel turned, as well, to regard the beauty before them both. "Pretty different from our trees, huh? Yours or mine." She gave them both a moment of silence, but Juulet exhaled a deep breath and filled it before long. There was something about her words that drew a snort of laughter from the Tarlonese and now she knew what it was: they were the same person, raised differently, but the same. It was the kind of irreverence she only ever showed to her friends nowadays, and her family.

"I am comforted," she replied with stoic dignity, "By your heartfelt display." She grinned until, all at once, Juulet switched tracks. Tyrel was taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. "To not have to pretend," she admitted by way of an answer. It was sudden, then: she just sat in the sand, fancy dress be damned. She drew her knee up to her chest and wrapped one arm around it. With her free one, she patted the sand, leaving a messy handprint. "Siddown, wouldja? We both got time magic. Not as if we can't just give ourselves more if we want, and you're not boring, like most people, at least."

A few of the birds took off under the vast golden sun, and Tyrel's eyes followed them. "I wanted to talk because... I dunno. Maybe you're the only person here who gets it. Maybe that stupid council from when we were kids was wrong and you're the one true avatar, chosen by the goddess herself from among the multitudes of poor little one-legged girls to be the saviour of her people and do what nobody's been able to do for five thousand years." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe it really is me who's the chosen one, or maybe they were totally wrong and it's someone else who's gotta die." She shrugged, but then furrowed her brow. "Doesn't it ever get to you? You're at the top but not really. You're 'revered,' but they all just want shit from you. You tip the RAS scale over nine, but you're gonna die, one way or another, by the time you're twenty-five, like the hundred before you." She bit her lower lip and twisted to look her counterpart square in the eyes with frightening intensity. "It fucking gets to me, that's for sure, and I'm you enemy, remember. I don't have to give a shit what you think. You don't have to give a shit what I think." Her fingers twined themselves tightly around her knee. Her shoulders remained a knotted mass of corded muscle as she tried to find serenity in her surroundings. "It's freeing."

A spot was given to Juulet. She didn't have to take it, or earn it or even ask for it. But it wasn't just offer, but a desire for her and her presence. An unusual experience for someone who thrived on ruling over feeble minds, constantly in fear or in awe of her almighty power. To have someone, a rival Avatar candidate and Tarlonese no less, offer her a spot next to her like a friend was off-putting to say the least. Her eyes were filled with suspicion, but the tone alone with the view made an aggressive reaction of poor taste - even for her.

Juulet found a solution. She did sit by her Tarlonese counterpart, but on the opposite side of where she was invited, and kept a half-metre gap between herself and Tyrel. This infantile gesture was the best way she could manifest a lack of hostility without downright saying it.

“Thank the Gods,” she spoke after Tyrel's lapse of vulnerability. “I was almost gonna. I appreciate you reminding me I didn't have to give a shit. Whew.” she made a sweat-brush gesture before snickering. “First off, why the fuck do you care what lesser people think about you? You'd be much happier acting like a true Goddess - someone who can do as they please. Even if you're a fraud.” she shot a cheeky, somewhat complicit, smirk toward Tyrel.

But then she had to process the inevitability they all had to face. The clock that was ticking, and all of these potential avatars would find out the truth in six years. And death, something Juulet could hardly conceive, came to be. For a moment she was silent, but eventually she coaxed herself to share with a gaze transfixed on the beauty before them both. “The Yanii's call it a 'Raison d'Être'. That one reason to keep going, and makes everything else so ... Small. Almost pointless.” she stifled the sounds, but a keen observe could notice some jaw clenching and teeth gritting. “You messed up loving that man - What's his face? Chad? And having too many care about you.” there was a growing anger in her voice, directed at nothing in particular, but it was there and different from her seemingly random outbursts. “You end up having something to lose - as a person.”

"Don't get me wrong," she replied, eyes flicking between Juulet and the lake, "If it is me, I shall be honoured." The birds were slowly picking their way westward and the sun shining greater and lower. "But if it isn't, I shall be relieved." She paused for a moment, blushing faintly. "I've been taught that love - in the way you consoi and yaniis do it - can cause pain." She swallowed and nodded, releasing her knee and undoing her sandal. "All of my life, I have." She set the shoe aside and stretched her single leg out until her heel and some of her calf rested in the water."But it brings such joy now." She leaned back, elbows locked, hands digging into the sand. "Later pain doesn't erase that joy. At least, I don't think so."

"You've helped, you know, just by listening and making fun of me like I deserve," Tyrel admitted. "It was that easy. So lemme be like those annoying old people who tell us what to do: you're mighty, suunei, maybe even more than me. I dunno. Most of the people we meet we could probably squish if we wanted to, without much effort, but then it just gets boring. Every interaction becomes the same: they're all scared and reverent and kissing your fucking toes while stealing uncomfortable glances at your stump and telling you how you'll cure the tethering and the addiction and shit gold and yada yada." She rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, they make all the decisions when you're not looking." She stopped and considered, grinning wickedly for a moment. "Ya know, maybe it is a good idea to stomp on one every once in a while, just to remind them who's the boss."

She sniffed and tucked some hair behind an ear. There was a bit of a breeze now, coming off of Lake Albadon. "But I promise you that it's worth it letting some in, really." She shook her head, digging her foot into the wet sand as she did so. "You and I kinda live in ivory towers, but there are some people who are worth it. You just gotta find them. It's not always simple and sometimes it'll hurt but, in the end, I think it makes things a lot more... worth it. That can be a... what was it?" She scrunched up her face quizzically, freeing her foot from the sand and letting it slough away in chunks. "'Raisin Detter'?"

Juulet was being challenged in a manner that couldn't be answered with simple force or her word being taken as gospel. This was Tyrel, a being that matched her, had the same disillusions she held deep down and, despite her aversion to the thought, was a kindred spirit in more ways than one. So many rebuffed truths surfaced in the violent Yasoi's mind, prompting brief jaw grinds and toes curling tightly into the sand. The idea that, maybe, she wasn't the one to ascend and was robbing herself of truly valuable things - most notably the family she had just reconnected with - would be all for naught. She couldn't find the words. Even as Tyrel brought levity to their exchange, she met only a squinted gaze, one a tad exaggerated, and hushed grunts.

And so, without words to handle the situation, she found a way to express herself the Juulet way. With a simple swipe of her hand, some water was ripped from the large body of the stuff and befell the Tarlonese. “That was the worst pronunciation I've ever heard. Aren't you folks up North supposed to be more refined? Very sophomoronic.” she scoffed whilst regarding Tyrel.

But just as it may had seemed like she was stonewalling any sort of connection attempt, something just came out of her. A desire for more than the aforementioned stomping until bored and hyperfixation on one's destiny. “... You're not wrong, I guess.” she looked to the horizon where a grouping of gulls danced around, likely over some remote carcass. “I was, I think, happy before-” she peered down to her stump and even lifted it to emphasize it. “this. So fuckin' happy, it was almost sickening when I recall.” she sucked in her lips and shifted her jaw. The memories, they hurt. And they were made so real since her arrival here. “None of what we do makes me happy, suunei. But, we gotta. Because, no matter how strong we are, we aren't everything. Not. Even. Close.” she tugged her one good leg closer to herself until it pressed against her chest. “We gotta, for what matters to us, even if it doesn't love us back. Our worlds need us more than ever.”

Juulet sighed. “I'll give you one thing. Your Tarlon troupe of misfits - they're kinda alright. Somehow, they haven't pissed me off once.” and then she smiled. Nothing close to the maniacal show she made or the looming terror she displayed whilst formulating the most inisidious of machinations. It looked genuine. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I should give love a bit more of a chance. If only for me.”

Tyrel let the water fall on her. She held a hand out and blinked it away. She was just zeroing in on the conclusion that she'd pushed a bit too far, that this was more than Juulet could handle, when the admission came.

So, she listened. It seemed that Tyrel, who loved to talk, who'd been making funny voices since she was a kid, was always listening. Strangely, she didn't mind it this time. Her eyes wandered, but her mind didn't. Juulet raised her stump and, with an idle sort of impulse, Tyrel shifted hers so that they nearly touched when the Constantian let it down. Her family had taken it as a great blessing when she'd been declared a candidate for the living embodiment of Vyshta. They - a hinterland family of no particular note - had been plucked from their tiny settlement and taken to Yandreluul. Two years later, when she superseded the other five girls, it had been justified, and they were showered with riches and gifts and left to live in peace and plenty. This, she remembered well, for it had been her proudest moment, marred only by the tears of her... rivals? Friends? She still wasn't sure.

Yet, hazier and further were the memories from when she was five. There had been tears there as well: for the family's misfortune, for her misfortune for, surely, a young Tyrel Junior had ruined herself and her future with a careless childhood act. While she'd thought it beautiful as a child, Saliac had truly been a grim place: a constant battle against the grasping branches and encroaching monstrosities of the writhing wood. The adults had spent their days hacking a living from it, but there was always one, or perhaps a group, who didn't return every week, or who returned minus an eye, an arm, or a leg, and most of these didn't last long afterwards. They were replaced by fresh new discards shipped in from elsewhere - she'd never figured out where. It had seemed they would never escape it and she would be yet another damaged body fed into the meat grinder of the writhing wood. But then she had manifested the first inklings of her Gift, and prodigiously early, too! The men with the books and examining glasses had come around and decided to pluck her family from the morass and spirit them away to Yandreluul. In the end, losing her leg had been the best thing that had ever happened to Tyrel'yrash. It had saved her. It had saved her family, and it was all so long ago that, truthfully, she struggled to recall the feeling of two legs. She'd lost nothing.

If she was a bird in a gilded cage, she could always have still been living in Saliac, which was better now - the discards had begun to win the battle against the forest, as they always did - but still nothing like the dream that was Yandreluul. Tyrel still, in her heart, trusted the gods.

Clearly, matters were different for Juulet. There was more pain. It was the woman with the bird-eyes. Something about that woman, even to a nine-year-old Tyrel, had filled her with apprehension. Even now, she knew better than to broach the topic. Instead, she merely listened and accepted as Juulet seemed to come to her own conclusions: ones that the Tarlonese didn't disagree with. Absently, she, too, pulled her knee to her chest. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around the other's shoulders. Instead, Tyrel, tried something else. She asked something she'd been wondering for half of her life: "That day, suunei, on the island, when the evaluators turned five of you down, you went off on your own. I don't know if you remember or if you noticed, but I came up and I was gonna... I dunno." She shrugged, letting her arm slide off of Juulet and her leg go slack and slide forward in the sand. "Comfort you, maybe, or maybe just watch 'cause I was a dumb kid." She brushed some hair from her eyes. "But you were there and, from behind, you were shaking." She furrowed her brow. "Were you laughing or were you crying?"

Pity.

Juulet twitched. The memories wanted to flood back in. But something blocked them, and the dam was already full. Her head hurt.

Get out of my fucking head.

“I don’t remember.” she answered dispassionately. A crutch was tugged over toward her as support to get up. “I’ve got boxes to find. Go talk, suunei.” she shot a passing glance at her equal before vanishing in an instant.

Hider

Juulet waited within the tunnel that led into the arena itself as Chad found himself revived after his defeat. She was leaning forward, both arms crossed over her crutch she kept balance with a twinge of magic if needed. She looked ... Cross.

Chad reappeared just outside of the arena and observed his erstwhile opponent for a moment. Then, he snorted, turned, and left immediately. He found Juulet blocking his way as he stalked off, and he raised his eyes toward her. "Just tell me one thing," he said, "did they fucking cheat?"

Juulet took a moment to study him. The wait for an answer was purposefully long and agonizing. "Hmmm." her purple eyes peered up into his. "They did. They cheated and won." the rasp of frustration and disappointment resonated hard in the back of her voice. "We're gonna lose." her growing anger was palpable, and her sights were fully trained onto the one who let victory slip.

Her crutch fell and Juulet seemed just about ready to do something.

And that something was a big hug for the one and only Chad. Both arms around his waist and her cheek pressed to his chest. "But you still kicked their asses harder than any fucker ever could! They barely made it." she squeezed hard and nuzzled affectionately. "That was fucking awesome. Those little worms truly had nothing on us in a levelled playing field."

Chad... took a moment to process it all and then, hesitantly, he let his arms close around Juulet and hold her tightly. "Thanks," he replied belatedly. "I... appreciate it." Still, he scowled, remembering nothing of the fight and only recalling that they had cheated and he had lost. "Still, if I find either of them one on one, I'm gonna kick the shit outta them for cheating: fair fight, one on one." After that, he decided, there was no point in dwelling on it. At least he had Tyrel. At least he had... Juulet.

---

That wretched enthish boy raised his axe over the one and only chosen Avatar of Vyshta. But it wasn’t Thomas Kavanaugh, but instead something far sinister.

Please no.

She could sense the permanency of it. No matter how anchored she was, that tool of execution was going to claim her life in a crude and forgettable manner like all her predecessors.

I don’t want to die. Please, help! Pluurii! Ashii! Suunei!

It came down for her. She closed her eyes but she could still see it in real time, somehow. The terror was so strong her heart nearly gave out.

Chad …!

The Mad Avatar awoke covered in cold sweats, panting and clung tightly to something. Or rather, someone.

Her arm was draped over Chad’s bare chest. The coveted Tarlonese was fast asleep with a third of his body in sheets while Juulet hogged most of it.

Fuck …

Juulet sighed in relief and held her lover tightly while burying her face into his shoulder.

The fucking crown.

She vividly recalled, one eye still open. It was coming back to her, what she had been a part of just a month ago.

Hider

Juulet was here. Late, obviously, but few knew it wasn't out of habit or to make some sort of attention-seeking statement. For a good fifteen minutes the one-legged Yasoi staked out the house she expected her 'friends' to be at in hopes of seeing them. Whether it was Ashon or Tyrel or even Chad. But, alas, she either missed them or they hadn't arrived yet. The only silver lining was Johann, but that still required mental prep and a bit of self-pep talking. With a deep breath, she teleported a few meters away from the entrance.

Eyes were instantly on her the moment she entered and she did not pretend like they didn't happen. She looked at every gawking guest with wide and unreadable eyes. “Yo.” was the only thing she knew how to say to these strangers in an event that didn't revolve around her. A truly foreign experience, and she desperately sought out a familiar face.

A seat was claimed outside with many appetizers gathered in her arms for her to gorge on as she just let time pass. When a particular octopus came in to serve her, she couldn't help but giggle and ... Just converse with it. “Sweet tartines.” she spoke while still chewing her food. “Hey, wait, I want more of those.” poor Osman was made to stay and hold up the tray for her while she moved on to the champagne. “You know, once I had this Yanii drink with another Yanii by a river and we got a little high on Jamb'syp, so we then caught a marmoset to dress it as a pirate and ...” and she went on and on to poor little Osman, confused as he was.

Xiuyang having wandered off, Ciro excused himself from the table and decided to pursue a different quarry. He found her quite a ways from the others: a yasoi girl by her lonesome, an anti-Tyrel, in some respects. "Ah," he exclaimed, "now there's someone I've been looking for."

An Anti-Tyrel indeed. She hadn't changed from her usual, although that was enough to stand out with an emphasis on white pantloons that somewhat concealed the stump she had never been proud of and the colourful green and purple sleevelee top. A thick mane of hair, part black and part violet, haned over the right side of her head, leaving the left, recently shaven side fully visible to see.

After losing her conversation octopus, she became bored and rested her cheek on her palm while her idle hand drummed over the table before her, occasionally eating some bite-sized goodies that came her way.

“Hmmm?” she raised a brow at the first who came to greet her. “Oh.” she sounded just a tad disappointed. The bored - and definitely not insecure or anxious - Avatar looked his way briefly before inspecting her nails. “Is that so? What's a silver tongue and totally not shady Yanii want with me? Gonna sell me a boat I can ride in my puddle?”

"No. I only sell boats to people I like," he replied. "Besides, you just teleport anyhow." He shrugged and glanced about for any others nearby, but she was all alone. "May I sit?" he asked.

Juulet peered at the chair opposite of her and gestured toward it with palpable disinterest. “Free party, I guess.”

Ciro sat himself across from her. He didn't appear to drop any sonic bubble around the pair of them. "Don't worry," he assured her. "You hurt somebody very close to me, so this isn't a social call." He shook his head. "But you're strong and I think our interests might align this time." He paused and set down the bottle he'd been holding on the table. "You remember when things got crazy at the arena and I motioned that I needed to talk to you?" His eyes darted about for a moment. "That's because I saw something. I think I know who was behind it all. In fact, I'm almost certain."

Juulet slowly tilted her head until she could properly regard Ciro again. Her gaze remained half-lidded, as if she still had no interest in him. But, she did latch onto something. “Why do you like her?” she asked as everything else had simply flown over her head.

"Not the tidbit I was hoping you'd seize on," Ciro admitted, starting to uncork the bottle. "That war happens, the Grey Army's free to invade your lands and harass your people more." He shook his head. "Stupid greybeards." He scowled, but then let it fade into a sigh. Ciro shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know either? Why does anyone love? Why do we like who we like?" He fetched a pair of glasses from a passing octopus and offered up a quick, "grazie." He did not presume to pour for Juulet, but left it open. "Well, if I'm to be honest, we both know she's not the most beautiful woman out there, nor the most powerful, though she doesn't fare poorly in that metric either." He shrugged again. "Yet, I love her. Who can say why?"

“That is such a nothing answer from someone I pegged as smart.” Juulet seized her glass and tipped it for a fill. “Grazie.” she said with an exaggerated Revidian accent - which actually sounded close to the real deal, coincidentally. “You're able to determine the grand aberration conspiracy, but-” she took a sip while eyeing the passersby behind Ciro. “Can't determine what makes your heart throb and your wood swell over some malformed chick. It must be yet another conspiracy.” she chugged the rest of her drink and presented her empty glass once more to be filled. “Who dunnit, then?”

"Don't you insult her," Ciro said with quiet coldness. "I appear to have misjudged you." He took his bottle of wine back and made to rise.

“Sit down.” Juulet ordered, dry and with authority. “I take back what I said. I get rowdy when I get nothing answers to my questions.” still, she had her glass presented. “You were implying something about the Tarlon Greys. What did you mean?”

"You received an honest answer," Ciro replied, unsatisfying though to may be to both of us, "and, powerful though you may be, you do not command me as if I am a dog." He narrowed his eyes, ready to die on this hill if need be but also willing to have a mutually beneficial conversation if heeded.

Juulet raised her idle hand in supposed surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad.” she spoke in a manner that really seemed like she was saying what he wanted to hear more so than regret. “You're no pushover. Guess I can respect that.” she leaned back against her seat, letting her arm hand over the crest rail. “As you can see, I'm not exactly the best with social events. Comes with the job that involves compulsively lying addicts and sycophants. And many other things.”

Ciro sat back down. "Believe it or not, I can sympathize with that," he admitted. "But anyhow, it's a matter of those Tarlonese wanting to start a war between human nations so there's no chance of us intervening to stop what they're doing in your lands." He shook his head tightly. "And I would say it was Tyrel had I not been closely watching her at the time." He scowled, lowering his voice and leaning in. "It was the Arch-Zeno herself," he whispered. "I'm no master, but I know a small something of Dark Magic - boyhood curiosity about demons. It was her and now she'll likely have the war she wants." He drew back. "Don't trust the Torragonese."

Juulet listened, and listened well. Her eyes seemed unfocused, but her acute magic sense was hard at work. Every little detail of Ciro was taken into account. However, she had always gravely overestimated her ability to sniff out the most deceptive. “Torragonese.” she said before shoving an olive in her mouth. “Sounds awfully close to Tarlonese if you ask me.” she spat out the seed onto the grass behind the table. “Are those not your allies, though? Which would imply you don't want this war to happen. Not very patriotic.” she taunted with a foxy smirk. “The faculty's off-limit. For now. Do you have proof or did you just deduce this?”

Ciro scowled. "I do what my country asks of me," he admitted, "but I'm not required to like it." He plucked an olive of his own, though he spat the pit into a small bowl instead. "They don't get to control my thoughts." He tilted his head challengingly. "As for the faculty..." His eyes narrowed in a predatory manner as he took a second olive. "They are not as invulnerable as some might think." He chewed and spat, his manner more casual this time. "Ss for her guilt? I have only my skills as a mage and my intuition as a thinking man." He shrugged and leaned in again. "And other little things, like the movements of their ships. Their silence on certain issues." He reached for his wine. "I guess what I'm saying is that there are plenty of people who want their war, from plenty of angles. You'll have to stand on your own." He poured her some more wine. "I get the sense that you can, but the people around you..." He shrugged. "Your description of them doesn't inspire much confidence." He scowled and clenched his jaw. "Fuck. I wish I could stop it all and we could live like this." He gestured at the party. His eyes lingered on Xiuyang for an extended moment.

“I believe you.” Juulet commented regarding the state of the school as she looked over to Jocasta in particular. “They're out of trump cards. And their new golden child is ...” a cocky chuckle escaped her. “Still, off-limits. I may be a tad out there, but I ain't stupid.” she let out of sigh.

Then she nodded and took in the seductive joy and peace of the party. It reminded of home - both her homes. It was nice, but it was also another distraction. But there was a creeping notion that clawed its way into her mind. One addled by the lack of fixes she's been experiencing for the last few days. The voices and the pain weren't there yet, but the fear of them was ever present. She looked to have a moment of absence. “My people will survive this storm. They always will.” she answered dismissively, dodging the subject. Juulet shook her head. “The damage is done, too. So I'm left to wonder, what do you think should be done about this?”

Ciro nodded and smiled grimly, finishing another sip of wine. He drank and drank some more but never seemed to progress beyond being slightly buzzed. "I think they should die," he replied frankly. "I know that it's awfully inefficient and even dangerous, but they shouldn't be allowed to profit from the deaths they've caused." She shook his head. "I don't like this sort of chaos but there are too many forces working towards it to stop. Chaos is a beast: a great raging thing that resists control and leaves bodies in its wake but, wherever it goes, it clears a path. In eintend to prod that beast where I can, and I intend to follow the path it leads straight to the halls of power, to supplant the people who occupy them now." He swirled his wine. "Well, that's the dream, anyhow, or I could just end up another body on a battlefield." He shrugged. "I may seem clever to some, silver-tongued, but I don't write my own legend. I am smart," he agreed, "but not as smart as you may think. Still, a little goad to the Perrench, and they will do much of the work for me. It's about time this place changed."

Juulet grinned, giggled and then leaned in to the point where she almost lied on the table. She was uncomfortably close to Ciro, all so she could inspect his eyes - no, just one eye with her unusual purple ones. “Fuck, it's nicer than the black-highs to hear that from one of you fancy yaniis. And I can't even see an ounce of bullshit too.” she bit her lip and held back some more childish giggles before slowly retreating back like a serpent returning into its hole.

Both her elbows rested on the wooden surface before her and her palms both supported her chin. “I agree. The world could do with a little Stresian cleaning. Have them all go boom.” then, a frown. An obnoxious 'But' popped out of her. “Here's the problem - they're all so fucking strong and surrounded by strong people with other strong people wanting to continue their strongman strong endeavour. Basically, if it was that simple to kill 'em, it'd be done. Loooooong ago. Or, maybe someone did, and shit didn't change and we think we can do better, much like the previous fuckos did.”

Still, despite this drop in energy, she did not move from her posture and her giddiness remaind. “But that's until I showed up. But I'm now left to wonder why you give a shit about me? Surely it's because I inspire a ton of confidence. Or that the world truly cares about us.”

Ciro smiled easily. "It's because you're strong. Simple as." He shrugged. "Whatever else we might disagree on - and I suspect it's a lot - I think we both have this same desire. I'm putting out feelers," he admitted. "For an order of the willing. Their time atop the world grows short, like sand ticking through an hourglass. Perhaps we are merely repeating the mistakes of those who came before, but I believe that we are better, more learned, and more moral than they. When I have more, we shall make our play."

In the meantime, if she stuffed her hands into her pockets for any reason, Xiuyang may have found a note: "One shows the hunter that she is not prey and turns his eyes to other prey. Thus, he is pacified. Thus, he is her tool." It was in handwriting that she would have recognized as Ciro Volta's. It disintegrated a couple of seconds after being read, having been enchanted to recognize her fingertips and hers alone.

“That's a good reason.” remarked Juulet. “Good enough for me to know that you know it's in nobody's best interest to fuck me.” she crossed her arms, pushed her knee against the table's edge and leaned back on her chair, causing it to balance itself on only two legs. “I'll think about it - getting you onto the table. Our table.” she smiled sweetly. “You likely deduced by now that I'm not the grand authority of Constantian Yasoi lands.” she mumbled the rest. “Not one bit.”

Ciro raised a glass in toast. "You may have deduced that I am not the grand authority of Revidia. Nonetheless, I believe we both have something to offer. I'll be in touch."

Hider

Later in the party, a few dances down, Leon could finally excuse himself from the admirers. They were satisfied with meeting Leon Solaire for this long, there was no need to stay any longer. He took a bow, made some empty promises to see them again that may or may not be fulfilled, and walked away.

With the new found freedom, Leon assessed the party goers then made an unexpected move. He saw that the 'mad avatar' he had heard so much about was now sitting alone and moved toward her table with intent. A spare rose always came in handy as he produced one from some hidden compartment of his fancy dress. Then, with a flourish of his hand, the red bloom of the flower changed to reflect the girl's eye colour.

"Juulet, I presume." Leon presented the purple flower as a gift with his typical smile lining his face. "I have heard a lot about you, some truths and some lies I'm sure. Would you mind if I take a seat?"

Juulet was three champagnes in by the time Ciro had made his departure and Leon made his appearance. Once again, she had found herself eyeing the Tarlonese group, but there was always something holding her back - something internal. Was it truly right for her to even fraternize a little bit with the enemy? The thought needed not to linger as the living embodiment of radiance made his appearance, seeking an audience with the Avatar herself.

Her hand rose up, middle and ring fingers spread as to let the lord of all bards pose it between them. The Yasoi's first instinct was to smell it, pause, and then sniff again as if she was admiring a fine wine. It caused her eyebrows to cock before she dropped the flower by her empty glass. Her response to his query was a simple, nonchalant gesture toward the seat opposite of her. “Free party.”

With the Sun King before her, she canted her head while re-filling her glass - this time with red wine that she imposed upon Leon as well. “Here comes the sun,” she hummed until the pouring was complete. “Du du du du.” Then, back to sagging into her seat, glass raised and her increased intoxication becoming apparent by her reddened cheeks and other telltale signs that didn't involve slurred words or complete incoherence - yet. “So, is it for some sort of angle you wanna pitch, or do we have some sort of beef I probably forgot about?”

Leon accepted the glass. It was unusual for the performer to be this sober so long into the night, he took a whiff of the strong wine and then made a show of taking a sizeable swig. His company was slipping into intoxication, it would be rude not to make the effort to join her.

Leon chuckled in amusement at her question. "You do seem a sought after woman. I'm sure with enough people looking for something from you it would be hard to keep track of it all. Would you really struggle to remember if I was friend or foe?" The performer hung on that question for a moment then sighed and continued in a more casual tone. "Truthfully, the answer isn't either of those but simple curiosity. As opposed to making assumptions on the work of gossip, I wanted to meet you in person. I am well aware that reputations have a habit of exceeding their subject after all."

Juulet narrowed her eyes on the living ray of sunshine before her, studying him and, quite noticeably, sniffed the air as he began to speak. Did she find anything? The scrunching of her nose suggested something, but what? “Probably not,” she answered off-handedly to his query. “I feel you would make it known if we were either of those. Known to the whole world, and then some.” and with that, she guzzled down her bitter drink only to serve herself immediately after.

“What you heard is probably true.” she swirled her cup in her hand in a manner that the previous Yanii did so frequently and then stiffed the vintage's aroma. It made her gag a little. “Anyway. You've met me. Congrats.” she tapped the back of the hand holding the glass. “What now? Wanna do a collaboration magic trick where we make someone disappear?” she smirked as the edge of the glass met her lips for more collected sips this time.

Leon quickly realised he would not be able to keep pace with the girl in terms of drinking quantity, but made some effort so she didn't look out of place. He then proceeded to study her as well, taking in the full picture of this monstrous mad avatar. It didn't match up with the idea he had in his head.

"Even if I were to assume all of it was true, I don't see you living up to your reputation. I don't see the Juulet I heard about in front of me but a girl whos a little too fond of wine. Which is hardly a crime in my book." He took another sip. "Would you like to dance?"

“There's a kids' saying they bash into just about every civilization with any sort of literature.” Juulet pushed her knee against the edge of the table, prompting her to balance her chair with only too legs. “Don't judge a book by its cover. But hey,” she pointed her half-full glass right at the superstar. “At least you're not a total cunt about it, then I'd have to show you my table of contents.” she chuckled.

But her smile did not linger, not after Leon's next proposition. “Dance?” a brow was raised as she shifted her purple eyes between the sun-man himself and the open yard area where musicians kept playing. “Are you serious?” she wiggled her nub to emphasize what she meant. “I can almost guarantee I can't do any of your Yanii dancing. And I've just about had it here of being clowned on.”

"Do you think yourself unable to dance?" Leon replied with a raised eyebrow. "I danced with a grandma who had the same condition as you. She didn't have your physique nor any grasp of magic to speak of, and yet she danced." He finished his first glass but held off on pouring a second before he got his answer. "It was a little clumsy," he admitted "but you won't be. You forget that we are mages; we need not follow what gravity dictates. We can dance in the sky, I will help you if you haven't mastered it yet."

Leon got up from his chair and extended an inviting hand. "Oh, and forget about Yanii dances. I want to know how you dance, not see you flounder at imitation."

Juulet responded snappily to the first question. “No.” Her posture didn't change but her voice came with a hint of defensiveness that was hard to deny. But then Leon's insistence and suggestion that she lacked competence in something brought her to the offensive quickly. “And I know how to fly. I know you do - I saw what you did with your last dance partner.” at first her voice was coarse, almost venomous. But as she shifted the spotlight to him - as Leon seemed to like it - she let a shit-eating grin take root on her visage. “Beautiful lights, I'll admit. Bit much on the 'Murder your dance partner' scale, however. What happened there?” she tilted her head as if waiting for an answer.

She did, in fact, take his hand. The rise was a clumsy one with her idle hand seizing her crutch but failing to properly pressing the tip onto the grass below. This cause her to 'stumble' onto him. “Hoohoo ...! Almost fell there.” if she didn't look to intoxicated before, she definitely did now. “How about we relive a dance like that? With all the lights and the explosions, hmm?” she barely straightened herself and leaned into him some more.

Only Juulet, who was looking for Leon's reaction, would notice what the performer did in response to her comments. His hand froze up only a little when she took it and his smile streched subtly as he leaned onto a more artificial visage. Internally his stomach sank and his heart raced as he was confronted with his actions in Mano e Mano, its was like a cold knife plunged into his gut. But a seasoned performer was nothing if not practiced, externally the effect could barely be seen. But Juulet would notice.

Leon was snapped out of the trance by Juulet falling onto him. He caught the girl and helped her to regain her balance on him with a nervous chuckle. "Yes, a healthy intake of wine isn't the best for balance I've heard." Leon joked. "I'll be blunt. I don't wish to fight you. Although I'd be happy to oblige if you are simply looking to put on a show. The lights and explosions, they're usually just for the audience after all." Without channeling dark, he had no chance of growing to his full power tonight. A day's sun could not accomodate a full charge from nothing. But that wasn't the reason he declined her initial offer. His head was clearer now than when he had fought Ariadne; he had no reason to fight.

Leon began to grow weightless. "Shall we?"

Juulet frowned. “Oh.” repeating pats to his chest filled the silence afterwards as she absently looked at her surroundings. But I kinda love lights and explosions. More than most audiences.” she pouted, lips pushed out and her expression that of a whiny child trying to get what she wanted. But with her immaturity also came swings as fast as the lights she so admired. “Oh ho ho ho, then if the audience doesn't matter ...” she pushed herself off him - nothing violent or aggressive - and seemed about ready to fall given Leon's ascent, but she seemed to be weightless too, but acted like she was stumbling on an unseen surface below her foot. “Let's give this a spin. A swirling whirly spin.”

Tugging on a thin chain on her belt, she whipped out the pocketwatch she had seized during the auction. The ticking was subtle but noticeable to anyone who focused on it. And the energy that oozed from it ... It wasn't the dark magic the Sun King had grown accustomed to, but it was as worldwarping as the VOID-stuff. With a simple click and the exercise of Juulet's immense power, everything froze.

Except for Leon, the one exempt from the time pressure just like the caster.

The Yasoi appeared right before him, one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder. “Show me a Yanii dance.” she uttered like a curious child. She was still drunk. “Now that all the fuckos in the world can't point and laugh. Show me something new!~”

Leon had to take a while to process what just happened to him. He hadn't been in time stop before and it caused the performer a bit of panic before awe took its place. "I had something different in mind to keep the eyes of us. But this works just as well I suppose." He responded by placing both hand on her hips into a dancing position.

Leon smiled back at his dance partner, one that didn't flash his teeth like before. "I'll be happy show you how the best of the Yanii dance. It will take some improvisation, but that just means it will be like nothing you've seen before."

Sonic magic was a wonderful thing. Leon originally learned that branch of Kinetic to provide backing track to his performances. But now, in a place absent of time, it could provide a serviceable song to dance to. The first song was slow with notes drawn out to provide a dream-like quality as the two floated up just above the other dancers. Leon took the lead on the first dance with an abundance of flowing turns and swirl to make full use of the weightlessness.

Legs were not necessary in the air, and so the phantom limb Juulet had been feeling for far longer than she would ever admit actually felt normal this time around. If only she could enjoy flight and dancing together a bit more, it would do wonder to her temperament. Now here she was, dancing to the rhythm of a man floating just a tad higher than her to beat her height. She had half a mind to comment on it, but the other won out just to bask in the moment.

Tick tock

Twirls, a lot of twirls. Both on her good leg and the non-existing one. “Heehee! Don't throw me now.” she wailed while being lifted up during a crescendo point in the song. And, when a peak was reached again, she was the one to 'lift' her partner in a appropriately improv-like fashion. “Unless it's toward Ypti's moon!”

Tick tock

Then things became spicier - less in a tension in the air sense, and more so the music that played. Something more akin to Torragon, or even the Virang. The dance less of a game of roles and more so two forces matching each other constantly, while keeping the role of the woman and the man distinct. The same flower he had given her when they met ended up in her mouth as they entered a more flamenco-like rhythm. Her purple gaze locked to his constantly sought to emit provocation, with only a twinge of the rumored madness to be found deep in them.

Tick tock

“Do you like it?” Juulet asked, oh so close to him, flower lowered briefly. “Me as the only person left in the world? Would it be better or worse than complete isolation? What would you do if you stranded here, lost in time?”

The whole time, as much as she seemed enthralled by the sounds and movements, Juulet was taking note of every little detail regarding the state of their environment and the pocketwatch that kept on ticking. This was the test run. And a successful one, given Leon wasn't obliterated by temporal pressure. Yet.

"What an excellent idea!" Toward the end of the first song, Leon tossed Juulet up toward the moon and let her float down gently back to his arms. It was a pinnacle moment of beauty in their lunar waltz.

Then, taking Leon by suprise, the music picked up. He locked eyes with Juulet and smiled, dropping his own sonic magics which clashed with the fiery tune. It didn't take long for him to pick up on the dance, he had done it before. But it was clear as day to Leon that, despite leading, he wasn't the better of the two in this tango. "I get the impression you've done this before." He remarked in a tone to match her provacotive eyes.

A bully, a bitch, a monster, these were the things Leon had heard about Juulet. But now that she had isolated him from any outside help, while he was barely at 50% power, he felt strangely at ease. Swept up in the fantasy of it all, she was just a girl who wished to dance under the pale light of the moon. Even if her latter questions were strange, the performer didn't pick up on any ill intent.

Leon leaned in even closer to Juulet, he ignored the first two questions. "Nothing is worse than being alone. But it doesn't hurt that the company is enjoyable, when she lets herself be." He answered genuinely, ignorant to the mad avatar's intentions.

Juulet nodded energetically at his remark while keeping her lips tightly shut in a big smile. She danced and she hopped and she even threatened a closeness that was far too damning from a girl that supposedly looked down on Yaniis.

“I'm flattered. A little bit.” a girlish giggle escaped her. One could even call it innocent. Her eyes met his. “And now you're so close. Oh no. My little heart.” she leaned in until her lips were by his ear. “Babump, babump, babump~” she whispered, although the music that surrounded them had since become the very same sounds she was emulating. “I'm sooooo nervous!”

Tick tick tick tock

She retreated back, head canted as she flashed him a cheeky smile and held onto him still. “Heeheeeheeeheeee~” cackled the mad Yasoi as her hand reached up to cup Leon's cheek. “You're still here! And they're still not moving! It worked!”

“It wooooooooorked~”

The fantasy of their realm between time shattered in Leon's mind when he heard that laugh. Only now was it dawning on him that the state of time stop may not be a stable and safe place to be. He caught the rose that fell from her mouth in the cackling.

"What you do mean it worked?" He asked dreading an answer he felt he already knew.

“Don't worry about it.” Juulet chirped, punctuating that dreadful nothing-response with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Good dancing, Mister Sun.” she gave his cheek a couple of strokes before slowly detaching herself of Leon's embrace. “It was great. Worth it. Very relaxing. And I'm glad you're feeling well.”

The Yasoi's foot gently landed onto the green soil below, and after a stretch she reached for the glass she filled once more only to raise it to her dance partner. “Here's to hoping the next artist can dance as well as you.” she shot a complicit look at the performer before chugging the good stuff. When she exhaled, time suddenly resumed its flow and the ticking stopped.

Leon's heart sank. The distinct feeling that his life had just been gambled with had dawned on him. He had thought himself immune, or at the very least, he would be able to notice if it was happening. The mad avatar's dismissals weren't helping, in fact, it encouraged the twists in his stomach. His footing was uneasy as he walked over to the same table, poured himself a full glass, and downed it with an unsteady hand. Only then did his shaking dull to a controllable level. It faded and faded until, at least outwardly, Leon Solaire returned.

Leon looked down to the rose and pondered on it for a while. "You know, some say the rose is the most beautiful flower in the world. But the way we present it is often deceitful." Leon's tone was far more somber and genuine than what he was like at the start of their exchange. He waved his hand over the stem and revealed that he had conjured thorns onto the flower. "Many first time rose gardeners will find themselves pricked by the bush and wonder why they bothered growing them in the first place. I even saw a man take an axe to a young rose bush in anger once, such was his pain after falling face first into it... But any experienced gardener would tell you that the flower's bloom is worth the pain it took to grow them."

"The more I think about it, the more I realize that people are the same. Anger, fear, and hate, these feelings are unavoidable in an imperfect world. In trying to forge a better one, these things can be a powerful tool forward but can also cause harm where we don't intend." Leon looked back up to Juulet and locked eyes with her. "I hope that, whatever you are trying to achieve, it brings more beauty into this world than the pain you cause. Because there will always come a day when you need to justify yourself."

Leon let out a hollow chuckle. "Its just something I've been musing on since that fight. If there was something I wanted from you, it was perhaps hoping that my words could help you. But I'm not so sure."

"Take the rose, I meant it as a gift after all." He tossed it over. "In spite of everything, I had fun for a time." Then he left Juulet to herself. He couldn't see fit to call her a monster. There was a person under all of that, even if he could only see it for a fleeting moment.

Juulet giggled in pure giddiness. She had what she needed. Before long, she disappeared without a trace.

Hider

A final wave goodbye to Leon punctuated Juulet’s presence in the soirée. She left behind a coin in appreciation and took with her the flower she had been compared to, placing it over her ear with the thorns untrimmed. In the blink of an eye, the Mad Avatar vanished from the party, re-appearing in the middle of the city with new ambitions in mind.

Her next target, the little blasphemer artist, had left in advance to conduct an act of protest Juulet was completely indifferent toward. There was a much more pressing issue at hand, being the one where she, the one chosen to be the first to welcome Vyshta into the realm of mortals, was humiliated for the amusement of a few pathetic humans. The pale scientist was dealt with, and now she unknowingly went to bash yet another bloodchild. She stalked him as he prepared, making maximum use of her pocket watch to never miss a beat in Tku's pathing.

It was after he had gathered his things and made his way to his destination that she made her presence known. By the canal, Tku heard a melodious hum echo all around. Within the mild fog that came from the nearby sea and bled into the running canal emerged Juulet with the clanging of her crutches becoming louder and louder as her silhouette gained in size and detail at the very direction Tku was going.

“Better be careful.” a familiar voice called out. “It’s dangerous to go alone at night.”

Oh how the night was just perfect for protest. The very air was tense with the call for change and Tku felt himself swept away by it. How many others were making their disillusion know? All brought to by a consistent effort it felt to change the school from a beacon of Shune to a political fortress of some.

But for Tku, the politics mattered little. It mattered that they did it at all. Whether Perrench or Revidian, Tku heart riled at what had been done. And even if it was not to mean much, art is the medium his discontent will manifest.

He had brought his golem for this event, trusting it to carry the heavier materials. Everything was going well, his plans were to not be dissuaded. The air hummed.

The air is humming?

The crate was set down as the fog came in. He sensed through the mist for matter. Just what was coming for him? Revolutionist? Century? Or some other force.

Instead the worst came for him tonight. A figure of Vyshta, one who seemed to be cloaked in Eshiran tonight.

His heart raced, "Juulet?" he called out, hoping it not to be true.

“That's Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan to you, painter.”

The Avatar's features became clearer as she trudged through the fog with a regular, one-legged gait. Her purple eyes were the first to shine through the shrouds of dark and fog, glaring right at the devout binder. “And you have a debt owed to the Avatar herself. How will you do so, little painter? Hmmm?”

There she was, now fully visible and in the light of a nearby lantern. Her face had a scowl plastered upon it with her cheek twitching after she finished her inquiry.

Tku gulped, he knew that this was a thing that could happen. He truthfully hoped the reckoning wouldn't be so swift. At least have this night to do what he wanted. He was aware he could not run. Nor could he fight someone like her. Still, Tku found himself tongue tied. Unwilling to just pay her off.

That is what he thought, at least. The scowl on her face, the twitching set off alarms in him like a cornered animal. "What could I provide Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan," Tku didn't dare to make eye contact with the Tyrant.

Even as fear took hold though, he did not regret making the paintings.

Juulet canted her head. “How about all you've got?” she proposed. A step closer was taken, leaving only a gap of a few meters between them, but she didn't move beyond it. “I remember you fattening up on a few things.”

All, I've got? It hurt. He hadn't even been able to bond properly with any of the items nor use them once.

He ordered his golem to set the crate in front of her. "Why? What do you get out of taking from me?" Tku knew he shouldn't ask but it was out of spite and curiosity. If he was going to be left with nothing, then maybe he could be left with something.

Juulet blinked. “I get your stuff.” she answered plainly, looking at the young man as if he was a complete buffoon. “Seriously, is it that hard to get I require recompense and having nice things is great?” she opened her arms in an exaggerated shrug, crutches kept tight between her armpits.

Her attention then went to the crate delivered by the golem. With a flick of kinetic magic, the box was opened but her curiosity strayed from its contents. “Whoa, it moves on its own.” she remarked before kneeling her one leg to inspect the rocky critter. “Where the fuck did you get something like this? Which prize is it?!”

Tku shook his head, he was immensely disappointed. Her whole reasoning is that of a child and a noble. 'Just because' was used by those with a sense of entitlement. Still, Tku answered, giving up on any idea of understanding. "You can find them in An Zenui, this one came from a crate." His voice had now steadied. Fear still existed but it no longer held him as it did before.

“An Zenui?” Juulet perked up with eyes oozing of childlike curiosity. “What's that?” then her attention returned to the golem as she inspected it thoroughly. Once she was satisfied, her focus returned to the crate and its contexts. “And what do you have on you?” she inquired, eyes still on the stuff sprawled before her, but Tku could sense her frisk him with the gift.

Her curiosity was met by an answer, "It is a city in the deserts of Callanast." Tku couldn't get further before he felt violated by the gift. He has 3 magical items on him, a pin on his collar and 2 tube like items in his art bag. Lastly, was a magical egg. Tku wasn't new to this, to be sure, but it never felt well. He set his bag down next to the crate and tossed the pin on it.

"I could paint it for you as I tell you about it if you want," Tku offered. He had nothing left to loose. Maybe he could satiate the child with goodies of the mind.

Juulet hopped a couple of steps to check the rest of the goods. First to be scrutinized was the egg. “... Why do you have an egg on you?” she shook her head and tossed it over Tku's head. Surely it had secrets, but she wasn't one for bad surprises. Next was the pin, “Oooohhhhh.” she placed it on her revealing top, just above her right breast. “Don't I just look cute?” she winked before directing her attention to the tubes.

One was a banana which left her as perplexed as the egg. “Eggs and bananas. Are you, like, a Jamboi or something?” she regarded him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and then got to the brush. “However, this I know.” and with a little bit of chemical magic and binding she had a little bit of pain coat the tip. “Stay still, and yeah tell me about it.” she stood up, approached Tku and was very much about to draw on his face.

His things were being ransacked but Tku kept still. Lest he incur a chaotic moment from her. From the egg to the banana he kept his calm. Not in an uncaring matter, no, he did care. Just not in a visceral display. Simply muting his color to the shades appropriate for such a danger. He slowed the egg with some kinetic, fearing what happens if it splats. Will the streets become an Angel?

Painting on each other was no oddity. Dozens of times has him and his fellow students been bored and sought after a different canvas. And if it was just Juulet and not Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan, he would if made a joke about not messing up him makeup. But right now, with that brush? He hoped that Ipte-Zept cursed her hand so that she could never make anything.

"Very well," Tku closed whatever eye on the side she wanted to. He still needed to be a proper canvas no?

"What to say of An Zenui? his eye dashed back and forth as he was deciding. "Ah! I know. On first glance one can hardly tell it from the rest of desert. But nestled so gently into the canyon walls a city, the City of An Zenui." Tku started his tale. "Short people with large ears call this place home. They call themselves the Cazenax," he broke out of his story voice, "Wonderful folk, truly." He then continued. "Oh how colorful they are. Vibrant stalls at the Bazaar where they would trade goods within their own city and nomadic outlanders that roamed the desert. You could find almost anything there for the right price." He paused to try and sense what she was painting.

Juulet got to work, and painted some clown makeup for Tku in earnest. Shit bit her tongue in deep focus while he told the tale of An Zenui to the antagonistic force that plagued him. “Uh-huh.” she didn't utter a word until her masterpiece was finished, and boy was it something. One could tell Juulet was no artist, but Tku did, in fact, look like a clown after she was done.

“Okay, basically the little powerful shits.” the Mad Avatar backed up to admire her work while twirling the paintbrush in her right hand. “What about these?” she nudged her head toward the golem. “Anything bigger? They're, like, giga-cool. I'd LOVE to adopt one!” a sinister grin took form on her face. “But if there are some made elsewhere ...”

A clown, how inspired godess, Could have been a little inventive but a jester Tku was for her. And even if every fiber to his meager being wanted to erase the paint, instead he just commented, "Seems you grasped something else they do. They paint and dye their skin all sorts of colors."

Shifting his framework from his story now to her golem, he felt an urge to offer trying to make a bigger on for her. But was that really correct? She was by far a bully who had the cruelty to rival a child's imagination.

He wanted to keep his new toy. Something that could let him grow and develop. Learning of something like this could shift his priorities for life.

"I don't know if they come any larger I'm afraid so. Though, this was called miniature for what it is worth." He resolved himself to not making that proposition of making another one. Not for her.

Juulet stopped. Just full-on stopped.

Her intense curiosity and vivid smiles had gone, turning into a frown of mild disgust. The brush was flung away to the side, just barely avoiding the canal. Whatever drove her seemed to drain after all of a sudden as her movements became more sluggish. “It's one thing to have people fight back real hard, it's another to have them submit completely and be too nice.” she glared as she gestured for the crate's contents to be taken away. “Both piss me off. How can you be such a fucking victim?! EH?!” suddenly, she was right at Tku's face, eyes wide and hands cupping both his cheeks. “You'd let me just bleed you dry. Is that some sort of pussy-ass statement about the world? Fuckin' hack artists, fuck fuck fuck!”

The Avatar's hands seemed just about ready to crush his skull before she just relented. Tku was pushed back a few meters and Juulet was left to pant for a few seconds. “Take your garbage and get out of my sight.” she uttered, looking somewhat defeated. “No fuckin' fun, y-” her eyes shifted to the right as he figure froze completely. A booming silence suddenly reigned supreme.

Hider

Bleed me? A hack?! The world can bleed me to the last drop but to call me a hack for not giving into your petty desires!? No, Tku was not a hack. He was neither a pacifist. He simply wanted to live to tell another story another day.

He stared back at her, accepting that he was going be crushed. It happened to all of the peasants who spoke up to the powerful. But another story would be added to the pile of corpses. And one day, one day, it will be too heavy for the elite to ignore.

Then he was shoved. Away from his would be killer. What was this about? Is it too gruesome for her? Tku questioned, expecting a fireball. But no. He was told to leave.

A trick? Sudden bout of conscience? Why!? He could barely contain his anger. He couldn't comprehend her but how he wanted to know. How can I reach you? He was left unsatisfied. Terribly empty from the experience, Tku recalled his brush and banana.

They clattered weakly towards him and Tku was left questioning whether had he regressed to neophyte levels in telekinesis from lack of practice. No, something was weakening him: fear, nerves, Juulet, or an outside force. The cause was held in mystery.

Could this be the judgement Cal spoke about at the soiree? Tku gulped at his realization. He hurried his departure from the scene. Once he turned the corner, he tested his magic again and again.

"I need to see this." There was a drive to watch whatever judgment the other Yasoi might bring to her.

Near immediately after, a pair of cloaked figures turned a corner and stalked towards Juulet. That weakness: she knew it. It was not unlike the pulse of a scagbiist, but it was something different. She knew it too. The figures grew larger, in both perception as the approached and in the danger that they represented. Rapidly, Juulet's attachment to the Gift was evaporating. In mere moments, she'd have nothing. "Judgement time," one of them snarled in a female voice.

“Oh fuck no.”

Immediately she tried to draw as much as she could. She wanted to just obliterated the shadows at the corner of her eye, but it wasn't enough. The gift was fleeting and fading away almost instantly. Her heart raced and sweat quickly accumulated on her forehead. This was panic - something she hadn't felt in a while.

Then the ticking stop just as a pulse of temporal energy reverberated out of her being, what was supposed to be a getaway spell turned into ... Well, a dud from what they could see. “Spax fuck cock wiiz cunt!” the Mad Avatar clenched her malfunctioning pocket watch, realizing just how bad her predicament was.

“Judgement?” Juulet let out a maddened snicker filled with contempt. “ME?! I don't need big lights and explosion to fuck you all up.” she pushed forward with her crutches, but already she felt the weight of having no magic. Her movements were clumsy and her balance mediocre. It was already a challenge for this skinny, one-legged Yasoi to close in without her metaphysical crutches too. Still, she was a tenacious one and readied one of her aids to smack away an assailant.

The female assailant leapt back nimbly. "Be careful!" she warned with mock concern. "You might trip and fall like that!" Her male counterpart swept Juulet's leg out from beneath her and she hit the ground hard. "See?" She shook her head. "Silly goose." Her partner took up the thread, though. "Shouldn't have gone walking alone out at night," he concluded, shaking his head. "I've heard people have been getting... robbed." A line of wickedly grinning white teeth split the lower half of his shadowed face.

The female figure stalked forward to deliver a vicious kick into the yasoi's ribs before she could rise.

“Kiss my a-” down went the Avatar in a loud thud. She hit her bony cheek and pointed ear against the gravel too. Missing a crutch that flung a big father than the other, she tried to push herself up with her idle hand, only to receive a kick to keep her back down. Juulet coughed and rolled to lie on her stomach. “F-fuck ...” she slammed her fist to the ground, envisioning eruptions of magma and plasma to just swallow these insects. And yet, all she got was a very sore fist and wrist.

The Yasoi twisted, barely supported by her elbows, to regard the female. “What's this, hmm? You want my shit? I got loads of shit. In my ass. Dig deep and you'll get it all.” she taunted and laughed maniacally with pained breaths coming and going.

She ate another vicious kick for it. "Wrong answer, cunt." The female figure stepped about her lightly, emanating dark glee. "Oh, don't get me wrong. We'll take your shit too." A grin near-identical to the male's split her face. "But we're here for something altogether nobler." She glanced her partner's way.

"I would say 'run, little goddess, run'.." His smirk was oh, so punchable. "but I might have to change that to 'hop, runt, hop." What an annoying laughter would come from him. "To think you thought yourself to be a goddess. Isn't being shamed like this, oh so painful for you?" He hoped Tku wouldn't interfere too much. "Sorry, little Reshta... you won't hop out of this one."

"You see, Juulet'oily'musty'zan, we're different from you." the female shook her head. "It doesn't matter how much you beg or fight back or anything else. You'll have the exact same chance you gave my brother. In..." she pulled out a pocketwatch and glanced at it. "four minutes and ten seconds, " She darted forward to grab Juulet by the neck. "You'll be dead. Full stop."

Juulet's head rang after the kick. She barely heard the miserable words from the male figure. Nothing other than his voice being far too familiar. “You're ...” she sniffled the blood leaking out of her crooked nose. “the little fucko I taught a lesson to.” she raised her pointer finger toward Fiske. “Need a woman to do the work for you, don'tcha?” more taunting laughs before she heeded the words of Marceline.

And heeded them she most certainly did in spite of her head still spinning. “Brother, eh? You're saying I killed a Yanii?” she pivoted slightly to try and rest on her one knee and support her weight with her stump. “Probably was a fucker 'cause I don't remember some lowlife boy-huusoi being crushed. Must've been a sorry excuse of a mage.” she licked the blood that spilled onto her lips.

Suddenly, she leapt for Fiske with all the strength in her leg and arms. It wasn't much, but she tried with all her vicious and magicless might.

Fiske jumped back ever so gracefully. "You did teach me a lesson." His grin turned rather sour. "You have taught me that people like you shouldn't exist. The strong should elevate the weak, not beat them up for looking at them the wrong way." The boy did not find any true amusement with this. This thing needs to be gone.. forever. "I hope you've prayed to 'yourself', Miss goddess."

The moment that Juulet failed, she ended up on the ground. Marceline leapt atop her in a full wrestler's mount and hammered her face with a punch. She winced as a knuckle gave way. "His name was Manfred Hohenfelter and he was a good person," she declared coldly. "Not a perfect one, but good. He loved and was loved and he did nothing to you. You ambushed him in Mandelein. remember? While you were at it, you killed killed Qasem Laghmani and one of your own." Marci's eyes lit up darkly. "Ismet'ych'lahiin'dichora. What would your new suunei Tyrel'yrash'dichora think of that, I wonder?"

She continued to hold the yasoi down and she pulled out her watch again. "Tick, tick, tick," she mocked, and she seemed to be enjoying this more than her partner. "Really, that box lasts for fifteen minutes, but keeping a piece of shit like you around for any longer than... She took a moment to check. "Three minutes - twenty seems a crime." She tucked it into her cloak and batted another hand aimed for her face away. "Why did you do it?" she demanded. "Why kill him? Why was it any of your fucking business?"

Juulet unleashed a wheezing cough after the bodyslam she took, although it was short lived with the punch that followed. Once again, she was left dazed and barely hearing the start. But she heard what mattered. First came chuckles mixed with groans of pain that bordered agony. She spat some blood to the side, as she wasn't strong enough to spit up to Marceline at this point.

“I gotta-” again, the Avatar coughed. “underline the irony of wanting answers after focusing down my head. I speak from experience-” she shifted about to find some degree of comfort in her innately uncomfortable situation. “that's the worst way to go about it.” a shit eating grin and stare were right right at her tormentor.

But before more punishment could befall her, she raised a shaking hand before speaking. “Mandelein, I remember that however.” she mused for a moment, with bloody coughs coming in more frequently intervals. “A town full of rabid dogs. A bad idea. Handled by bad elements. And made worse by ...” then, it hit her. Mouth agape, she took her sweet time to cut to the chase. “Was he that handsome Yanii boy with the moustache?” she wagged her finger almost provocatively. “Yeaaaaahhhh. He definitely caused quite the stirring! Hoho! Got a good many poor Huusoi peasants killed in the process. Heh.”

"Well, I don't need you to last long anyway," Marci replied to the yasoi's first bit of mockery, but then she kept speaking. "Well then, if you've got nothing more of worth to say, I guess we don't need our remaining..." She twisted to regard her partner quickly. "How much time we got?" She flipped her cloak open and, all at once, stepped back, withdrawing a pair of pistols.
Fiske grabbed the small watch out of his pocket "About 2 minutes, so whatever you want to say make it quick." He wanted to see this person get what they deserve.

Juulet spat out a couple of teeth that had gotten loose and eventually fell. “You people give up so fast, like that limpdick I just let go.” she groaned, looking exasperated. Although her rapidly beating heart betrayed the cool facade she tried to erect. “You wanna know why? Why'd he died?” Juulet let her head fall onto the pavement. “Well, if you really gotta know, I've no clue.”

The Mad Avatar closed her eye and took a deep but pained breath. “The problem was gonna solve itself on that night. That Yani-” she opened her eyes to look Marci in the eyes. Her purple gaze was softer, and she seemed to genuinely consider something. “Your brother. I did not kill him. In fact, I didn't kill shit - not even one of the dogs - at that time.” her eyes darted to the ticking mechanisms nearby. “Leave it to Yaniis to pin their own petty crimes on Yasoi. It ain't enough you fucks ruined us to the core, eh? You gotta just -” she clenched her teeth and regarded Marci with pure hate. But that moment was fleeting and faded away into the same, challenging stare she had been keeping this whole time. “Not just any Yanii too, a chick.” she snorted. “Typical.”

Marceline scowled. "Bullshit," she replied, swallowing her own momentary alarm, her momentary doubts. "You're just a bitter, nasty cunt to the very end, pulling the yasoi card on top of it." Her eyes narrowed. "The only girl there was my sister in law, Manfred's betrothed. Try again."

"Minute-five" her partner quietly warned her. Of course, they had three times that amount, in truth, but they would leave nothing to chance.

“Wait.” Juulet flailed her arms. “Wait wait wait wait wait. You're a complete fuckwad if you stop here.” she warned, her eyes focused and solemn. “I'm not fucking you here. That chick -”

And then, in this dire moment as she felt the pain of the rose over her ear dig into her flesh some more that she connected the dots. Juulet began to laugh. Laugh in total hysterics. “HAHAHAHA! Right under our fucking noses, too. We're both fucking idiots, aren't we?” droplets of blood sprayed all over as she spoke obnoxiously loud and laughed. “That fucking crown. Oh how she was willing to DIE for it.” the laughs died down, turning into something of pure contempt mixed with desperation. “All that power, I kinda get it, though.”

A light sigh of relief escaped the Mad Avatar. “That wicked whore and her wicked crown killed all three of them. One way or another, she killed them. And we all let it continue. Spreading even to that feedblemind in a desperate attempt to kill me in the finals.” she coughed, a lot. “Fuck, it feels good to finally figure that shit out. Cathartic, even.”

Marceline stepped back. There was conviction in those words, and madness. Juulet had... thirty-five seconds to live. Her soon-to-be killer checked her pistols and readied them, but her mind was racing. Was this just some attempt at a parting shot? Leaving some poison behind after she was gone or was there another play here?

Marci's pulse began to quicken as well. She checked her guns again. She swallowed. She'd suspected Dory, herself, at first, before Jocasta had corroborated the presence of a Mad Avatar. She'd... then Marci noticed a bit hole in Juulet's accusation. "If she was so attached to it, why lend it out?" she demanded. "Huh?" Then, however, Fiske shook his head. They needed to adhere to their five minute timer. "Actually, don't answer that. Just apologize to Fiske for what you did before. Go out with a shred of decency." She cocked the guns. Their synchronized watches ticked down: 10... 9... 8...

“Woah woah, wait ...” Juulet raised her hands in surrender, and then to cover her face and chest from an imminent bullet. She looked scared.

3…

"Not an ounce of sincerity for a life where you brought nothing but darkness to everything you touched."

2…

"See you in hell," she snorted, goddess."

“Please don't ...”

ZERO

“PLEASE DON'T!”

Would she really be sorry or is this just a 'I want to live even though a grand demon would blush from my wrongdoings?' kind of deal. He should feel satisfied. He should feel accomplished, feel good... Then why did it feel so horrid. Like they were putting down a child for acting up. The world will be better without these kinds of tyrants...

But he needed one more answer from her, but seemed he was too late. "Wait!-" His words might have fallen onto deaf ears.

Marceline was about to fire. She was already starting to squeeze the triggers. She twisted momentarily and shot Fiske an incredulous look. Our schedule... she thought. Our ironclad plan! She stopped herself just on time. The guns didn't fire, even though five minutes had passed. Her heart hammered and she waited for him to speak. There stood Juulet, at their mercy, given a sudden reprieve.

Juulet, awaiting death with her hands over her head, remained frozen and silent. Only the canal's waters and the faint hum of the magic disruptor could be heard.

"Twenty seconds. What do you know about that crown?" He held the box tightly. "Tell me everything you know about it within that time and I will show mercy." He nodded towards Marceline. "Keep them aimed at her, just in case."

Juulet sniffled, clearly shaken. She mumbled something, but it was far too quiet.

Marceline eyes widened. This was not part of the plan. This and... mercy!? He wouldn't be so stupid, she knew. It was likely the mercy of a quick death. Still, they were off-script. They could find out about the stupid crown later. She hesitated, not wanting to make them appear out of sync, not wanting to give Juulet any little victory as she left the world for good. "Fiske..." Then, Juulet mumbled something. She mumbled and there was silence, but for the sound of the waters, rushing with great speed to wherever those waters went.

Fiske listened closers ...

“I'm not gonna tell you any more, jexoff.” there wasn't as much fear or desperation in Juulet's tone.

Fiske sighed. "And here I was going to be merciful." He shrugged. "Marci, do it."

Marceline nodded grimly, leveling her pistols and pulling the triggers…

Click Click

She pulled them again.

Click Click

Her eyes widened in fear.

Juulet lowered her hands. She wasn't smiling, but instead frowning in great disappointment.

“You tried to kill me.” remarked Juulet matter-of-factly. “You tried to kill me.”

Suddenly she was standing on her one leg. Eyes were still on Marci, and then they rolled diagonally upwards toward Fiske's direction.

The next click they heard was of her pocketwatch.

Marceline threw the guns away. Xiuyang had loaded them. Marceline had been there.

"Fiske, run!" she screamed, but then Juulet was there.

"It's me you want!" Marceline shouted. She drew and prepared to unleash a spell of her own. "Fiske, get out of here. Trust me, please!"

The spear, conjured from molten stone, sliced right through Fiske's flank.

“Shoulda held still, it'd hurt less.” growled the beaten up Avatar, now standing on Fiske's right just barely a meter away from him.

She then regarded Marci. “You'll get yours. Fucko.”

The combined efforts of the two assailants was for naught as their desperate attack was syphoned by the spear-turned-ash.

“You should have run.” Juulet canted her head toward Fiske with maddened eyes trained his way.

The pin shattered.

Fiske was compelled to vomit out an obscene amount of blood.

He collapsed to the ground and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Fuck!" Marceline shouted, whirling on the spot. Shunedammit, Fiske! she shouted in her head, why didn't you run!? Why didn't you just trust me on this one!? He convulsed on the ground in a pool of his own blood and, soon, he began coughing up not only blood, but meaty chunks.

She ran to him, already gathering her energies as a binder. She drew as much as she could, preparing to convert it.

“AH AH AH!” Juulet wagged her finger. “Don't you help that little cocksucker.” she warned. “Or I'll rip him to shreds the moment he stands.”

Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. "I'm still gonna kick your crippled ass." She flipped up what everyone had taken to be a hood earlier upon quick glance. It wasn't. It was the Souleater's Sombre Sombrero, and it was hungry. "Gimme your power," she growled, "all that Dark shit."

“Tsk tsk.” Juulet smirked. “I saw how you looked at him. You won't fool me, fucko.” heat began to build up around Juulet as well, bracing herself for what was to come. “But YEAH! COME AND GET IT, SHITHEAD!” she opened her arms in a welcoming manner, and definitely over-the-top. “Give it your best shot.”

With that, the great grim hat reached out with its hungry shadow. This climbed up Juulet, consuming the ill-begotten power she'd taken from the VOID. It began to leak from her and flow into Marci. "His loss is... unfortunate," the younger girl allowed, inwardly begging Fiske to forgive her for the callous-sounding words, "But did you really think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"

Eyes of defiance met the shadows. Her power was stolen, and yet the Avatar remained unfazed.

“Nice trick.” she rested her hand on her nape and stretched, prompting a crack. “Thanks for showing it to me.” Then, a similar time-flow manipulation could be felt. But it wasn't restricted by any device this time. “See you in five.”

Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. She began to reach for her hat: the trump card she'd kept hidden, just in case. Just long enough: until help can arrive, she counseled herself, trying not to look at Fiske, at what had happened to him. Just long enough. Her hand trembled as she reached. This had to work. It would work.

“Well, five in reverse!” said the past Juulet with no context. And with a new target in her sights, she did not stike immediate at Marceline, but at the item she was going for. That hat, giant and unsightly, was impossible to miss.

Marceline tilted her head at the strange comment, not quite understanding. Then... it dawned on her… Marceline still had the energy drawn for a heal. She dived for Fiske and attempted to do it.

Juulet interfered immediately and she found herself able to do precious little. It was all that she could do to stop the horrible vomiting, at least. However, she had left herself wide open.

The Golem had one command from Tku: Heal the downed people. Its chest opened its chest and a it formed its hands into a heart. A pink beam blasts Fiske to heal him of some of his wounds.

The beam leapt out of nowhere and, for a moment, Marci believed that deliverance had arrived. Instead, it was only Tku's little golem, but never had she been so glad to see it. It meant that, so long as she could occupy the Mad Avatar, Fiske would live.

Juulet's own blood magic sabotaged any attempt to properly restore Fiske. The vomiting stopped, but his shape was still deplorable.

“Ah, so that's what it does.” the Avatar remarked on the golem's abilities, but her attention returned quickly to Marci. “Anyway. It's time I give you what you deserve, little rat.”

Marceline stood and drew once more. Just another minute or two she thought, pulling as hard as she could, reaching out for Jocasta, Yalen... the tethered, anyone!

Once again, she activated her pocket watch. And suddenly she was in front of Marci with a fiery punch directed straight to her gut.

The Tethered had the air literally punched out of her and her abdomen burnt to the third degree. But the Avatar purposefully did not go for a kill shot.

No. An assassination attempt this brazen required something more than a vulgar execution.

She leaned forward, her thin lips right by Marci's ear. “I'm going to kill your fruity little boyfriend. That can't be stopped. But you ...”

Then, silence. “Give it a second.” and soon, almost as if it was a cue, energies very close to Juulet began to stir. Energies all too similar to those felt all over the city in Bloody Victendes. Or during the Melon Derby. Or even during the quarter finals of Mano e Mano. “You really shouldn't insult cripples like you did. Have a bit of empathy.” she grinned maliciously.

Marceline blacked out momentarily on impact but, mercilessly, she came back moments later. The pain in her midsection was... unfathomable and also... less than it should've been. Vaguely, in the lucid parts of her mind, she recognized it as the utter numbness of dead nerves: something she remembered well from her feet and, briefly, ankles, before she'd started treating herself with aberrations.

Juulet spoke and the pain spiked. Marci understood little, but she gritted her teeth and tried to bite back the pain. It radiated up and down from the site of the wound: a burning in her midsection and legs. Just a bit longer, she willed herself. Just a bit. She could die here, because she wouldn't really die. Fiske, however - she needed to stall so that he could be saved: Fiske who should've trusted her, who should've run, who hadn't.

"You... wanna know... a secret?" Marci managed to rasp, barely audible.

“Sure.” Juulet chirped. Marceline was seized and ragdolled with Telekinesis, made to approach the source of the energy that consolidated itself in what was undeniably an aberration. And a big one at that.

Very sight of it caused Juulet to twitch. Her fingers wiggled and stiffened but her grip via the gift remained firm. “Ever seen a tweeker from Hyparii take just a little too much?” she was no longer smiling like a sadist. “Never a pretty sight. But one thing I do know is this: It's a godawful existence from there. I would know.” Marci inched ever closer to the black mass. It beckoned, wanting to be drawn to give her to power she so craved.

Marci managed a smile. She was slipping. She could feel it. Just a bit longer. She resisted drawing. She'll think I'm dead and she'll be gone by tomorrow.

"You're still -" she coughed. "Still." She coughed some more, weakly. Juulet would have to come in closer. A miserable cunt who'll die alone by her twenty-fifth birthday, unloved and unmourned. she thought, but she couldn't actually say it. The worst person I've ever met. She couldn't decide which to say anyhow and, then...

“Too slow.” Juulet tossed the ragged Marceline right into the aberration. “Word of advice - try to wear gloves so you don't rip your skin and hair as easily.”

Marceline did not have the wherewithal to expel the energy she'd drawn. It had been for a last spell, a last trick, to take the bitch out with her but, once again, Juulet had proven herself better. Marci sailed towards the void and the last thing that she saw was darkness growing, filling her vision.

Then, it was nothing - nothing next to the aberration - and, for a moment, it was sweetness: utter bliss and joy. It filled her like midnight honey, invigorating, healing, empowering! For some brief period - the young tethered had no sense of time - she felt as if she could come back this very moment and obliterate Juulet.

But then it began to grow heavy. It became thick, as if she were trying to suck up porridge through a straw. Yet, still, it flowed. It flowed ever faster and there was too much of it. Every tiny bit was a strain and it kept coming: through every orifice, through every pore, and there was more - ever more! Marceline ground her teeth until they cracked. She arched her back and shredded her throat screaming. She curled her fingers and toes until they felt as if they would snap.

That was the last she ever felt of the latter. Her head pounded, her body bloated and cried out in agony as if something was inflating her past bursting point from inside. Her eyes hung heavy as if they might just drop out of their sockets from the sheer weight and pain of them. She was beyond thought at this point and a thing of pure animal terror. Her toes, then her feet, and then on past her ankles and up her shins: that evil line of burning pins and heated needles. She could feel her manas dying. As a tethered, she could feel, in great detail, every single one explode. One by one, her nerves winked out. At first, it was a numbness that she knew, but then it reached her knees and she was in new and terrifying territory.

The darkness kept filling her. She was beyond pain and into mere sensation at this point. Her head was a dull, stupid brick. Her fingers could not uncurl. Up her thighs came the line, past her loins and hips, up her waist. All below became nothing and, paradoxically, she was grateful for the pain she could not feel. Up, still, the line crept, as she crumpled there in pain and darkness: up through her midsection, up to her chest. Then, it leapt to her fingers. It traveled up her arms and she screamed weakly, whimpering. "No more!" she cried weakly, not wholly aware of how she was doing it. "Eshi please no more!" she screamed and sobbed. "I'm sorry! Make it stop! I'm sorry! You can kill him!" - No you can't. - "It wasn't you! You didn't do it! I know nothing!"

Then, there was the brightest flash of light just as the burning reached her shoulders. There was the brightest flash and that was the last she knew.

Elsewhere, phenomenally out of breath, Tku reached the apartments of Vaughn Marbrand out in Mudville. He hammered on the door.

Hider

Tku ran as fast as a horse but it was never enough. He threw out his rule and the ground became slippery, oil pecipitated and instead of trying to move with his feet he slid faster than he could ever run. It was blood magic being enhanced by kinetic and Chemical. Tku couldn't care less if he was reported, all that guided his actions was trying to save their lives. All of them, even Juulet, deserved to live.

It was no less than a bang at Marbrand's door. Tku made a hole in the wall so his voice could travel. "Marbrand! Please come quickly! Juulet and others are fighting and I think only you can stop them!"

The door swung open of its own accord and Vaughn Marbrand was inside. "Juulet's fighting!?" he nearly shouted. "Who!?" He was already moving about rapidly, half-dressed but quickly pulling on all of his regalia. "Tku! Who!?" he demanded.

Air filled his lungs, "Marci and some other man, the gift felt weak there." He produced an answer and then giving the crossroads where he last saw them. "Please sir, I don't want any of them to meet Eshiran yet," Tku pleaded and got out of his master's way.

For a moment, there seemed to be almost... relief coming from the disbarred Zeno. "She pushed too far," he murmured in absent alarm, gathering his final belongings. There were items among them, Tku could tell, that held incomprehensible power. Then, Vaughn Marbrand seemed to recover his focus. "Tku, right!" he said briskly, drawing from space and time, "Thank you for telling me, lad." He clapped the youth on the shoulder. "You stay here and you clean up and stay safe." There was a tight smile. "I'll handle this." Within moments, there was a flash and he disappeared.

---

Like music to her ears. The pain, the pleas and the inevitable betrayal of loved ones. The torment was so great that it had become a constant Juulet recognized, and had experienced herself. She scoffed at the pathetic sight that was Marceline. “Shouldn't have pulled those triggers, girl.” uttered Juulet, bitterly. Eventually, Marceline was tossed away like an unwanted toy, left to suffer on her own while their mark-turned-executioner twisted to regard Fiske in his physical agony.

The Mad Avatar had claimed Marceline's mind, and she was then going to claim Fiske's life. “I warned you once before to not fuck with me, Yanii.” she landed her singular foot right before him and kneeled. “But you all just needed to have the last word, didn't you? Had you just beaten the shit out of me, I'd get it. I'd hit you back, but I'd get it.” she reached out to prod the young rogue's temple with her finger. “So now I'll take everything. It's only fair, right?”

Heat began to accumulate inside of Fiske. It started like a very bad fever, and only went up from there. It was going to be quick if none intervened.

The witch stood over her defeated opponents, drawing off what was left of the huge aberration and filling herself further. She could not see the disgust behind Volto Argento's mask when he appeared behind her. In fact, she likely could not see him at all, so engrossed in her macabre triumph was she, so shrouded in Ahn-Shune's Enigma was he.

First, she would have seen Volto Giallo - better known as Sorriso - wielding the new scythe he had purchased from the Hegelan he'd bought. First, she might've thought that she had a chance here.

She didn't.

The shadows warped and fell away and Volto Argento peeled himself from them. From across his back, he withdrew, for only the third time in anger, Eien 88. "Didn't your vile 'mother' ever teach you not to play with your food, or perhaps, at least, your brother?" he taunted. Sorriso merely stalked forward, his bristly beard poking out from beneath his mask, his massive grin growing, maniacal giggling already starting up. He twirled the scythe. "Drop him or I boil you alive right here."

One presence she recognized. The other, however, was unfamiliar and far more terrifying the moment she sensed him. Her euthanasia effort was halted as she perked up to acknowledge both interlopers. “If it isn't fatass and his girlfriend. Went to cry to her after the ass kicking I gave you?” she taunted, but remained by Fiske. “Do that and you'll kill him too, fucko.”

Like with Marceline, she manipulated an incapacitated Fiske with the gift, turning him into an improvised human shield. “How do you know any of that? My brother, I can get, but who the fucking fuck told you about my mother, eh?” an increasingly agitated and pissed off Juulet stared both Volti down. “You didn't come here for this nothing here. No way. What do you want this time?”

"COME ON!!!" bellowed Sorriso, accelerating as he rushed for Juulet, utterly ignoring her taunts. He continued to laugh uncontrollably and, in seconds, he was on top of her. Then, he was gone.

Volto Argento tilted his head to the side. "You vastly overestimate the number of fucks I give about some random boy but, on principle, for each person tonight who you kill, I will rip one limb off of you. Understand?"

Sorriso reappeared behind her in a sneak attack. The scythe came straight for the small of her back and sunk in deeply. He pulled it out and blood began spilling from her, but Juulet had let go of her toy and it hadn't cleanly bisected her as it was supposed to have done.

Argento quietly floated the badly wounded boy away and began to heal him.

Fiske was gradually restored to full health, though he remained, momentarily, unconscious.

"Say," taunted Sorriso, "Didn't you 'kill' me last time? What happened, little girl?"

Juulet, having barely dodged Sorriso's quick attack, snarled. “Didn't have enough with dying the first time, did you?” smoke erupted from her nostrils before the watch ticked once more. “I'll turn you to ash this time.” however, the pocketwatch seemed to lost is lustre. Her surprise attack did not execute as well as she had hoped.

It was a literal back and forth of energy swapping, with Juulet eventually redirecting it all into the canal, causing a massive burst of thick steam! Juulet twitched, multiple times. “What. Do. You. Want?”

"You," Argento replied, "Dead." He set Fiske down gently, some ways away from the fighting. "It's rather simple, really." With a gesture, he commanded the steaming Sorriso to step back. He took his underling's place and stalked forward.

“Original.” commented a snarky Juulet. “Not a good omen, bub. Not at all.” and with a stomp on the ground, a surge of adrenaline ran through her. Those crazy, purple eyes intensified and the destruction incarnate she was known for took actual physical shape with matter all around her being shattered and drawn into her.

Argento regarded the girl dispassionately, or perhaps it was just the mask.

A clash of titans erupted, wreaking havoc onto the local area.

"Sorriso, I am not too proud to admit that this petulant child is too strong for me to handle alone. Would you mind offering some help?"

Sorriso strafed to the side and began drawing.

“SUWWISUUU!!! HEWLP MUYYYY!” she made a pouty face. “My deawu gurlfwiend!!!” Juulet snorted. “Bring it, losers!”

Argento said nothing. And with Sorriso, a blast of kinetic energy was hurled Juulet’s way.

The Mad Avatar spun her head, mouth agape and giggles escaping her. It would be insane for someone to take these two on alone. And yet, despite having a perfectly good Fiske, she had almost completely forgotten such a spec existed.

Then, in front of Juulet, appeared a man in black: a presence who she knew well even if she could not see his face for the mask covering it. He held out a hand to stay her wrath. "You are not his true target, sister." Vaughn Marbrand declared. He stepped forward, hands empty, body language relaxed. "I am."

"What happened to no attachments, Nero?" asked Argento calmly, but was he truly calm at this point?

"I love and am loved," the Black Volto replied implacably. "What of you, Argento?" His hands remained open before him, but the energy that began to build was... crushing.

There he was. The brother.

Here in the flesh, and now he could see who she truly was. There was no Ms. Monke. Or Mr. Biggles. Or even their sister. Vaughn Marbrand could see Juulet'oli'muustii'zan.

“I'm BAIT?!” she growled, at both Vaughn and Argento. “Fuck. FUCK!” her head began to pound. This was enough to stop her rampage, leaving her levitating behind Nero with her palm against her forehead.

She shook her head. “Doesn't matter. They want us both dead now.” she drew just as aggressively as her brother, leading to her exploding into a zenith of immense heat that flames were near invisible from their intensity. Her spear, half-complete, was in her hand once more. “Kill 'em or run?”

Nero turned to her for a moment. "He used you as bait," he confirmed. Then he turned back to his enemies and tilted his head. "What do you say, Volto Argento? Kill 'em or run?"

"I say you are a traitor to the Dieci Volti Nascosti!" Argento bellowed, stalking forward. There was a flash nearby. Floating like a ghost, a foot above the ground, was a pale woman in a white dress. She wore a chartreuse mask with a stoic expression.

Volto Nero stopped. "I say you have warped our organization and our once-noble goal." Nero shrugged. "It's a matter of perspective, I suppose." Then…

Volto Argento exploded into a spray of blood, bits of bone, and shreds of skin.

Juulet blinked.

His sword clattered to the ground.

“Wow.” she hit a moment of clarity. “And I thought I was strong.”

"You were never truly my equal, Argento." His mask and clothing stained with blood, he strode forward to pick it up.

Vaughn Marbrand removed his mask and smiled at his little sister. "You will be soon, little plum." He reached over to ruffle her hair fondly. "Maybe stronger."

Disarmed completely, she just ... Didn't move. She wanted to say something, but-

Her wicked eyes captured the form of Sorriso. “Pig fuck.”

Sorriso, frozen in place, unglued himself from the ground. He began to back away, terrified. "You are a traitor, Giallo, and a vile piece of shit," Nero agreed with his sister.

Jocasta's eyes widened, her white dress spattered with blood. "V-Vaughn?" she stammered. "Your mask!"

"Argento..."

She began gathering still more energy. "The Mad Avatar is your sister!?"

She shook her head, disbelieving, and began backing away. Sorriso hurried in her direction.

Juulet glared right at the ghost-like Volti. “Call me that again, cunt.”

"She just murdered Marci and tried to murder Fiske, just like Manfred, just like Qasem, and Ismette, and you... defended her!?" So in shock was she that she utterly ignored Juulet. Instead, her eyes drifted towards the newly-awakened Fiske. She sent two pinches his way: 'Illusions' and 'run'.

The Mad Avatar began to laugh. “This AGAIN?” she shook her head as the vehemence grew. “I didn't kill shit. I WAS going to kill that one.” she nudged her chin toward Fiske. “After he and his cunt girlfriend tried to KILL ME! Morons, I warned them. But they neveeeeeeer listeeeeeen. Ever. So I gotta do this over and over ...” and the rambling went on.

Fiske nodded and began to quickly cast and illusionary self in his stead as he shrouded himself in ahn-shune's enigma and fled. Just to be sure... he made another one that ran through another path.

Vaughn Marbrand stilled. "Certosa, you know me," he remarked. "And you knew him." He gestured in the direction where Argento had been. "You know what a bad man he was."

He gestured next at Juulet. "Juulet, here, is my sister. She was stolen from me as a child. She does not always make the best decisions but... Jocasta, she is not so different from you. All of that pain, all of that power: there was no way she would ever be left alone, so she's hardened, as you have." He shook his head. "Marceline and Fiske attacked her. That's all there is to it. I know Marci means a lot to you, but she tried to kill someone and that someone defended herself." His face became pained. "I'm sorry, kid, really. Heal your foolhardy friend. She yet lives and I won't stand in the way."

Unreadable behind her mask, Jocasta locked eyes with Volto Nero. Did hers dart Juulet's way? It was impossible to tell. Regardless, she began floating her way toward her fallen friend. Nero, meanwhile, laid a comforting hand upon his sister's shoulder. "You cannot stave off death forever." He began to heal her.

Sorriso stood there, chest heaving, glancing between the other parties. Then, after a few moments, they collectively began to notice something. Volto Nero and Volto Giallo faced each other for a moment. The latter nodded. He took off after Fiske.

Jocasta let herself down beside Marceline. "Oh my brave, stupid little sister," she murmured, stroking the girl's hair. "What have you done and what have they done to you?" She tried healing, but there was nothing she could heal. There was a deep aberrative affliction and she had overdrawn terribly. Jocasta rose once more. "There is nothing I can do, Marbrand." She shook her head. "She is a tethered and, now, even with the help of a grey aberration, she won't walk." She shook her head tightly.

There was a lot of talking. Too much of it. But it was from Vaughn - once her rock, now a warm memory that left her cautious. The love was undeniably there, but the feeling of being an imposter, of being Juulet rather than Juliette, was overwhelming. She didn't know whether to be angry or overjoyed, to lash out or hold her tongue. But each time she regarded her saviour and brother, she lit up a little more. The erratic twitching that occasionally took her was gone and the chaotic vigor of her's had eventually faded.

At first she grit her teeth, but eventually she exhaled in light relief. “I won't chase the rats, if you're concerned about that.” she crossed her arms whilst restoring some of the bricks and pavement around her via binding. “In fact, I'll be fucking off. I've everything I need.”

Unconsciously, she found herself drifting ever closer to Vaughn until their elbows met. She had since been restored.

“You can fix the madness.” admitted Juulet, resigned to peace after being on a war path for so long. “If you find someone good enough to exercise her before it creeps in permanently.” she pursed her lips and looked uncharacteristically normal for once. “Seen it, and done it.” she shrugged. “Better be quick, blondie.” but there was always a hint of provocation with Juulet, no matter what, and she couldn't help but smirk.

Jocasta floated there, expressionless behind her mask, but then she took a moment to glance over in the direction of Sorriso, who'd run off after Fiske. "I suppose Fiske must die now, for your sins?" Her voice may have sounded neutral in tone, but it was not. She was judging the man she'd once thought of as a mentor and almost an older brother.

"He needn't die. He need only lose his memories of this incident," Volto Nero declared beatifically. "If you can reach him before Sorriso does, then I am equally happy with that outcome. All of our secrets here, this night, must be preserved and he is currently our critical weakness."

Jocasta regarded him for a moment. She tilted her head to the side and, with a flash, was gone. Brother and sister were left alone, then, in this place of pain and triumph. Quietly, the former reached out with his magics of Blood and Binding and began to rebuild it.

Juulet sighed once they finally had some privacy. “I had an escape plan, you know?” she pouted. “You didn't have to brick another career for me. Fucking hells Vaughn ...”

He punched her playfully on the shoulder. "It's a pastime now, kiddo." He smiled. "Besides, I think I've seen a job opening come up elsewhere."

Juulet giggled, and retaliated with her own. It was two titans playfully nudging, so the shockwaves were actually noticeable. “You're saying that so I don't get pissy.” she snorted. “Well, that one Yanii Arch with the armor didn't seem to value her place too much now did she?” the Yasoi smirked, arms crossed again as she looked to the Forked Tower. “Thanks, by the way.” she murmured.

Vaughn Marbrand shrugged. "You get pissy anyway," he joked. "But you're a teenage girl, amirite?" He shook his head. "Love ya, sis, and I know you've got my back too."

He was, of course, hard at work the entire time. As he began to put the pieces of the street and a couple of empty shops back together, he also began to put the pieces of Volto Argento together as well. "Poor sop," he explained as he went, "thought he was my equal. Thought he was the puppetmaster." Volto Nero shook his head. "He was always just a politician with a nice sword." Presently, he bent down to pick it up. As he did so, he continued creating and recreating matter. Pamphlets began to form on the street, dirtied and torn, a scrap of a green and gold banner, some random blood spatter. The Argento that coalesced did so in two pieces, of course, with multiple other wounds. Oddly, his attire was different. He wore no mask and his clothes were the rich, silky ones of a politician.

Volto Nero continued to work. "Oh yeah, sis," He added. "Think you can mess those pamphlets up a lil'? Step on 'em maybe? Rip them like they've been trampled and thrown around?"

Juulet responded with a simple smile to Nero's assumption. The notion had yet to be put to the test. Would she ever betray family? Which family, then? Her demeanor and actions showed confusion and indecisiveness more than anything.

“He was strong,” Juulet joined her brother in the effort to fix. Yet another unusual behavior for her. Old and lost habits were emerging back, it seemed. “stronger than me, in the long run. Way to salt the wound there, bro.” she rolled her eyes, and made sure to shove a few flopping fish back into the canal. “You're gonna keep the sword for yourself?” she inquired, curious, just as she let her spear wither into dust.

As Argento began to reform, maskless and not a puddle of blood, Juulet raised a brow. “Looks familiar. Was he some teacher or entertainer?” she shrugged. Then came the Nero request, to which she promptly nodded. “Y'know, back home they prostrate themselves to me when they want something.” she teased as she drew her scattered crutches back toward her so she could commence the trampling with the occasional ripping.

He bowed deeply. "I request that my lady sister kindly rip these things to fucking shreds," Vaughn cocked an eyebrow. "Am I doin' it right?" He twirled the sword about in his hand. "Why you ask? Jealous?" He grinned and looked the blade up and down. "Helluva weapon. Temporally imbued, as well."

“More floor kissing.” Juulet remarked as she pursued her stomping spree. “But you got the spirit so I accept it. Good job, here's a free darkling.” there was no aberration, of course.

Juulet pushed her lips out in a pouty manner. “Yeah, kinda. That's probably how he cheated to my level. Obviously.” she jested. Humility, from this Avatar? Who was this? “But I got my own super death gizmo. Two big one's a crowd. Especially with, y'know.” she waved her crutches and peered down at her singular leg. “Balance.”

"See, the chessmaster play is to have imbued crutches as weapons." He shook his head and dusted his hands off, joining her in ripping a small scrap off of a banner and disintegrating the rest. "Oh, as for who he is?" He smirked and motioned for her to come closer.

“Nah, the chessmaster play is to have your weapon the size of a pea and destroy everything with it.” Juulet flaunted the peculiar piece of rock - definitely bigger than a pea, more so a large marble - and tossed it into her hip pouch. “... Although that's not a bad idea either.”

The not so Mad Avatar hesutated at first. She skittered closer to him, eyes narrowed in an exaggerated manner. “No japes. I remember when you made me believe eating leek gave me more magic. I ate that shit with conviction. Hated it. So. Much.”

He whispered the truthful answer into her ear before drawing back. "One enemy of the people removed," he remarked with subtle conviction. Then, returning to his work, he glanced over at her again. "You can choose not to answer if you don't want to," he assured Juulet. "I imagine it might not be a banner memory, but... last time I saw you before a week ago, you had, uh... better balance. What happened?"

Juulet scoffed, and then she laughed. “You're bullshitting.” she covered her mouth and checked the corpse again to be sure. “Damn. You might be right. Spaaaaaaaaaax.” she shook her head. “Badass, bro.”

The youngest Marbrand was caught slightly off guard, but there was no freakout. “Hmmm,” she sucked in her lips, thinking of her words for the first time in a long while. “A lot of things in my mind. Didn't juice up recently too.” she shamefully scratched her cheek after announcing the latter. “Made friends with someone I was keen on hurting. Breaking. I don't know how to feel about it. I-” at that moment her energetic stomping and ripping stopped. “I was angry when I arrived here. Thought everyone was after me but ... I opened up. Some weren't so bad. Even some yan- Huusoi.”

Then, she stomped again, this time making the recently fixed pavement crack and the water to reverberate. “Some assholes took advantage of that, of course. Humiliated me, so I did the bad things, again.”

Vaughn chuckled at the complete non-answer, but then he smiled supportively. "Well, then they got what they deserved. Just remember that most of 'em are good, even if they're ants next to us." He glanced her way as she missed a step and shook his head with a rueful sniff of laughter.

“I guess you're right.” Juulet sighed as she recalled past action. They stung like a nasty cast of magnetic magic. She was quick to shove them back in the mental drawer they originated from. “Let them take an inch, they'll take literally everything.” she gestured toward the near-dead Marci, even poked her with a crutch. “My point.” although as she turned around, she couldn't help but look at the girl again. “Are we just gonna leave her there or ...?”

Regardless of Marceline's fate, a brief silence left her to think. “You were asking about my leg, right? You'd be right to assume my balance isn't right in many ways, really.” she admitted, once again with the humility, albeit it was from Juulet and nobody else.

These specific memories stung even more. Her heart rate increased and her palms quickly became clammy. “Would you call bullshit if I said I just ... Don't remember?” she stopped to regard her brother's reaction with interest. “Mer- Hmm, my mother mentions an accident. A bad one, a little bit after I got my first magics.” she shrugged. “Nobody's allowed to ask this back home. I've ... Done things over that. Not so good things.”

Marbrand smiled supportively. "Watch it have been something super embarrassing, like taking your leg off accidentally with a fork." He shook his head. "When you ascend as goddess, gimme good luck, huh?" Then, however, his tone became a bit more serious. "I imagine it's a huge pain in the ass, but... I'm proud of you. I know you've done some bad stuff, but you care enough to regret it, and you've done some good stuff too. You took an injury that might've ended some people and here you are, kicking ass anyway." He straightened and sauntered over towards the fallen Marceline, where Juulet was standing.

"As for this one, I don't think she'll kick anything ever again." He shook his head. "She's a regular Theracus: always flying too close to the sun." He floated the girl's prone form off of the ground and scowled. "I'd say you've done her a favour, in the long run, by clipping her wings a bit." He shrugged. "If she's made of tough stuff, like you, she'll manage. Certosa knows her in her cover identity. She should be back anytime now and then this mess her friend made is hers to clean up."

The younger Marbrand smiled like her brother. Old mannerisms were never truly lost. “Nah, it'd be a spoon in my legend.” she winked. Then, she got flushed. Praise was mundane and meaningless to a Goddess like her, what mattered was where it came from. “Do you ... Approve? I mean, of the whole ascension thing. I know it's touchy.” she leaned closer to him and employed a hushed tone. “I have to do it. But now I wonder if ... I'm really the one, you know? I still feel scared, and inadequate.”

Then the subject returned to Marceline. Juulet sighed. “The fool actually pulled the triggers.” she shook her head, but quickly purged most thoughts regarding the issue as a new one emerged. “That fucking crown.” she sneered, as she recalled what started it all. “Have you noticed it too? The one worn by the Yanii with the big,” she rubbed her own chest. “And the Barrowton lad - I didn't forget the accent.” said accent was used masterfully by the Yasoi.

“Anyway, mind if I crash a bit at yours? Or home?” she asked casually. “I was thinking ...” she hesitated, but it came out. “We catch up, like, genuinely? I ditched you two pretty fast last time. And I'm in no hurry right now.”

"Think about it this way," her brother offered, "If you're the one, you're gonna make it. You and me and Tanny and even this mysterious mother of yours will make sure of it." He winked. "And if you're not, you get to live a hundred years and do all the things you're gonna do." He shrugged. "It's a win-win, way I see it."

Then, she went on to talk about the crown. "It's demonic, and it's a tier five at least, maybe higher." He shook his head. "Suunei, that girl's name is Dorothea, and she's the kind of person who makes all dark mages look bad. She needs to die if I'm going to be frank about it."

He scowled absently down at the prone Marceline. "Fooled this one: thought she was a player but was really just a pawn." He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I kind of feel for her. As a tethered, that's the last she'll ever walk, but there's no way you could've known that." He squeezed his sister's shoulder. "And now she's learned that her actions have consequences not just for others, but for her."

When he was finished laughing at Juulet's imitation of the famous Brindland accent, he waved her onwards. "Let's pop in on Tanny then, shall we?" His smile was large and genuine and he beamed at her: his little sister - that precious kid who was so much like him even though the world had tried to make her nothing like him - back in his life, back on an even keel. "But, first," he amended, "I have to just take a quick detour back to my place. No need to bring my whole battle kit there, huh?"

There it was, the feeling of safety. Vaughn's play was masterful and Juulet melted so easily to the words of affirmation and encouragements. She shot him a cheeky grin, one at face value meant to challenge whether he was being truthful or not, but it was obvious she was thoroughly flustered.

“Then kill her.” she immediately shifted into a casual tone, and the subject matter hardly affected her demeanor. “Or do you want us to tag-team the big bad threat?” but then, as she nearly lost herself in the fantasy of teaming with the middle Marbrand, she shook her head. “Actually ... Tsk.” there was that hesitation again, but this one stood firmer than her usual blocks. “Maybe not now. Not unless we gotta.”

Juulet scoffed at the Marci situation. “Ironic that she would make fun of my leg. Some cripple name calling or whatever.” she shook her head. “If she's not tended to soon she'll be another super-tweeker anyway. Now that is a life not worth living.” said the near-tweeker herself. She raised her hand to her brother's and smiled at him. “You gotta show me how you cured me, by the way.”

The young Marbrand nodded with great enthusiasm. “Ypti-ka-yay. Tanny's probably not gonna like this, though.” she gestured toward the body and the mess they had left behind, along with everything else. “Aaaactually, I might need to do a little detour of my own. How's 'bout we race?” she proposed with the cheekiest of looks. “Loser's gotta explain the mess when news gets out.”

Big brother smiled at little sister. "Sure," he exclaimed, "and I'll tell ya what!" His smile became a teasing smirk. "I'll even give you a handicap!" He kicked at one of her crutches and was off.

Behind them was left only stillness, darkness, and evidence of a riot. The body of a man who may have been Volto Argento and may have been someone else lay there like a timed explosive. Soon, other bodies would join it, waiting to be found.

Hider

It was late enough that dew had formed across the city. If most of the combat had been loud and destructive, one of the near-godlike parties involved had managed to erect some sort of sight or sound barrier around the proceedings and... what had been a revolution of sorts ended up more or less unwatched. Jocasta floated in: a small white and gold figure, ghostlike in the darkness.

She had seen Marceline at the party, she saw Marceline here, and she understood. It crossed her mind to simply put this copy out of her misery, but then she thought better of it, just to err on the side of caution. In truth, she paid barely any attention to her surroundings, so exhausted was she, both physically and mentally. "Silly Marci," she breathed, brushing a lock of some hair from the girl's eyes. She looked like her mother more so than some distant Kerreman father.

Smoothly, silently, Jocasta knelt down and picked up this version of her stricken friend, absently gathering the pistols she'd tried to use as well. She would play along with Vaughn Marbrand for now. She would be a good soldier. She had done her apparent duty with Fiske. But she saw him for what he really was. She saw him and she would bide her time and wait.

Like it or not, the game never ended. She had always been a piece on the board. Soon - she was determined - she would become a player.

The Hourglass Order

Foodie's Mano e Mano Records

Teatro Sorridente

Abdel Varga

Ariadne Hyde

Vyshta's More Favoured

Juulet'oli'muustii'zan

Pluurii'daxtoil'asilan

Raffscallions

Zarina Al-Nader

The Hourglass Order

It was both the blessing and curse of Zenobucks to be open just as Ipte gave way to Shune. It was still and dark, the sun just a glow on the horizon, the great hordes of commonfolk just rolling out of bed, the brilliant blanket of stars starting to fade from the brightening sky.

There was a serenity to it - a peace - and Ersand'Enise, that great burgeoning metropolis that always seemed to be welling with people, magic, danger, and opportunity, felt oddly intimate at this hour.

As a tethered, Marceline had been taught from the moment she first opened her eyes in the Refuge at St. Agustin, some girl with strange dreams, no memories, and no name, to block out the noise, lest it overwhelm her. In the silence of the desert, she'd practiced: a small unnamed person atop the sandstone parapets, watching their long, somber shadows skew and shorten as the vast golden sun peered over the horizon.

And every morning, she would return, as Amanda Escarra, her mother, observed and guided her from below, shaping the unnamed girl into a Marceline who might someday thrive outside of those walls. She learned the hum of the insects and the heat of the sun, the way the stones gathered it in and bled it out. She felt the people sleeping in their beds: the tiny pulses within their minds and bodies, the changing chemicals as they began to stir. Then came the voices, and how they devastated her at first. She shut them out and wished she couldn't feel them for, even here, deep in el mar de dunas, there were too many. So much movement, so much sound and heat and energy!

Over half of tethered failed to ever acclimate. They shut their sixth sense out, denying the half of their curse that was Gift. Gradually, in bits, Marci had opened herself. As mother's health had waned and she had moved from two to zero, the girl had strained to give her this present: the knowledge that it had all been worth it, that her daughter would succeed, that she might make something of her short life.

And then she had stood alone - truly alone - atop those walls, though sometimes she might sense Abuelo in the distance. Still, she opened herself, ever more. Still, she encountered the wonders of the world: how those small hills she had never questioned were a pack of halassa hibernating in the sand, the great reverberating rumble of the heavens as vast anvil-shaped clouds flowed like rivers overhead and then opened up to bring the desert to life. Then came the long grasses, the bees, and the lizards for those next few months, the enormous ancient shape of a distant sand wyrm in its endless trek across the wastes, far out there at the very hazy edge of her range.

How blessed she had felt to live in this world and to be able to sense the things that she did, but time began to steal the girl's happiness. By Marci's third year, as the Afortunado came to select her, her feet were alien things and her ankles could give her no more. Every morning began with strapping on a pair of braces and the climb up the stairs had become an arduous one. Her mother had well and truly cloistered and, for the first time, her imminent death had become a real thing, and a source of endless anxiety. The wagons that would come and go twice each month grew into objects of intense interest. She well understood that the sensory bombardment of the real world could be too much for some tethered, but mother had managed it in her younger years, when she had gone out on assignments.

Then, they had assigned her a wheelchair and bade her to practice and it had all come to feel so small and hopeless and limiting. By the age of thirteen, a deep anxiety had set in about her future, maybe even a malaise. It was only the arrival of six students of Ersand'Enise that had saved her, in every way possible.

Now, Marceline's footsteps, swift and sure, clattered over the flagstones of the city's streets. Her senses swept for the usual early morning denizens, and she made her way with purpose.

Dew sparkled on lawns and hedges and the iron balustrades of fine homes. A fox skittered towards the arboretum, where it kept its den. A cat rubbed against a planter box at the door of a townhouse, its eyes glowing faintly golden in the early morning murk. Marci reached into her bag and pulled out a smaller cloth sack as she neared her destination. Her senses were alive with the city now, as Shune finally burst over the horizon in all of his brilliance.

Somewhere up above, floated Jocasta, as was her early-morning custom. Born-on-Solstice and a handful of sunblessed sat on rooftops, recharging for the day. The aroma of strange sauces met her nose as she passed a guesthouse where some Retanese were staying and already cooking themselves a breakfast. One of the great bells of the cathedral lay dormant, its clapper gently swinging as a trio of pigeons landed on it. She could sense the tarnishing of its bronze surface: the subtle chemical changes.

Then, she was there. The fourth Zenobucks location - the one close to the Proving Grounds - was the newest, and they were on event hours, event pricing, and event staffing. She had determined it was in need of some extra care, especially with Tku absent, given that he was a competitor in the Trials, after all.

"Good not-quite morning!" she chirped at the staff. None of them were students by necessity, and a couple had been poached from their duties as carpenters, housewives, and washerwomen. "And thank you so very much for helping us out today." The booth was looking shipshape, but for one corner of the sign where the cheap wood they'd used was warping and pulling out the nail it was bolted in with. Marceline took a moment to focus her binding magics and render it passable. She made a mental note to replace it, contingency budget allowing.

Laying the cloth sack down on the table, she pulled out tarts for all four of the shop's employees: Muriel, the head baker; Lisette, the cashier; Vittorio, the deliveryman; and Franz, who handled maintenance and whatever else was needed - truly a versatile man. They wasted no time in ambling up and they were a good crew: capable, friendly, and generally problem-solvers where needed. Why, Muriel had even come up with a new type of tart the previous week that had been a hit with customers. They would be piloting it in an official capacity starting tomorrow. "Oh, and for the little one, Franz," Marceline added, pulling out a tiny bonnet for his newborn daughter. She spent two more minutes catching up with them, clarified a few things about the rollout tomorrow, and was on her way to the next store. Successful businesses did not run themselves, and Zenobucks - once little more than an inside joke - had become successful indeed.

---

It was a little over an hour later that Marceline was finished her morning rounds. The sun was up, all four locations within Ersand'Enise were open, and she had one more errand to run. Twice, she had nearly tripped in the areas of the city that had cobbles. Thankfully, only one of the shoppes absolutely required that she cross the picturesque little ankle-breaking stones. What it highlighted, however, was that her toes, with the vital balance they provided, had gone almost completely numb.

The shimmering coins jingled faintly in her coinpurse as the young tethered made her way through the Queensgate and out of the city. It took annoyingly long for, once more, there was something of a queue. A handful of tents and lean-tos hunkered under the palms and by the guardhouse and in them were yasoi who'd fled the invasion of their nations by the Tarlonese. Some appeared normal enough - or as normal as a yasoi could ever be - while others twitched or talked to themselves or looked about hungrily in ways that were profoundly unnatural. Addicts, the girl knew, feeling distinctly uncomfortable around their blank, leering stares, restless dashes to nowhere, and endless fidgeting. There was a reek to them too. "'scuse mem, I loss my wagon on go in," said one, grabbing at the folds of her dress, "lend coin Lachon pay back. Just need small lend. Lachon get wagon. All good!" His hands were on her and the girl stumbled back, nearly falling, and scampered away. Instead, she was stuck waiting in line while he and the other hovered around.

Once she was allowed through, Marci quickly made her way past, enhancing her speed with kinetic and chemical magics. The entire experience had unsettled her and she found herself happy to see the signage of the Vermilion Swirl. It was time for The groove and another Grey aberration. The last time she'd taken one had been back in Tiptos and it should've lasted her until the end of Mittria, at least, but here she was at the start of Assani. She hoped it wouldn't become a pattern. Maybe The Groove's merchandise was faulty. Maybe the place was a scam...

That was when she sighted Abdel, hanging around outside the famous - or perhaps infamous - pleasure house. Just like she had when they'd been children, Marceline snuck up behind him. "Well well well kiddo," she teased, "Fancy finding you here. I'd say I never took you for the type, but..." She trailed off with a merciless little grin.

Abdel perked up as he felt his personal bubble be a little too invaded. He preemptively turned to confront the little rogue, only to meet a very familiar face. “Well well,” he parroted, arms crossed before his chest as if she spoke some truths. He cocked a brow at the joke. “how's it going with Fiske, Brandaeble?” he smirked, eyes not-so-subtly shifting between her and the esteemed establishment they were, or were about to be, frequenting. “But really, what brings you here? Zeno Bucks aspirations?” he smiled with brief checks over his shoulder as if he was waiting for something.

Marci arched an eyebrow. "No, Abdul. I'm here to visit my secret hunky boyfriend, Chad." She tried rising onto her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, but they were dead things: all the more reason for her to do this now. "Who ya lookin' out for anyway, though?"

“A friend.” the intonation and briefness of his tone, as well as the context of a brothel made his guarded posture all the more telling. Abdel stared at his childhood friend's eyes, lingered and then snorted. “An actual friend. Her name's Tiff. She-” then it clicked. “You're not here for business, are you?” his pointer finger stuck out of his crossed arms and wagged at her direction. “It's that 'secret' tavern-club thing, isn't it?”

Marci saw no point in hiding it. She nodded, crossing her arms as well. This was often how they seemed to speak to each other: behind crossed arms and layers of witty remarks until he just went earnest and she was reminded that they'd grown up together. "Yeah, it's The Groove." She sniffed and uncrossed her arms. "Stupid name, but very useful place." For a moment, she hesitated, as if about to say more.

Abdel snapped with the wagging finger. “That's it.” he pivoted to have the entrance to the establish on one side and Marci to the other. “Tiff chaperoned me the first time. I was hoping to see her again, but ...” he pursed his lips and shrugged. “I didn't, and still don't, have any of their coins. So ... I never found out if this was the real deal. Abs 'n' all.” he looked Marceline's way with an inquisitive eye. “So, is it?”

"Why do you think I'm here?" she inquired, kicking at some sort of nut that had fallen from one of the trees overhead. "Gonna go in and take a grey." She scrunched her face up for a second, annoyed. "Last one hardly lasted. My toes are fucked." Her eyes flicked their way for a moment before rising to - briefly - meet Abdel's.

Abdel's heart beat a twinge faster when he heard 'grey'. Not white, nor black. Grey. But then Marci's additional comment brought his brows to furrow. “Really? Was it just small? Or lousy, maybe.” he shrugged, opting for optimism before letting reality disappoint him once more. “Frankly, I'm giga-broke. But one of the girls here actually brought up work.” he paused, realized what he had said and shook his head. “In the Groove. Work in the groove. For coins. Figured if I was gonna make a living, I'd do it standing up.”

“Anyway, shall we? I'll meet up with Tiff later.”

Marci didn't wait for his hasty explanation. She began cracking up even as Abdel realized what it was he'd said. "I mean, shune..." She trailed off. "I don't even wanna make fun of that. It's too easy." She began heading for the door, shaking her head and still grinning. "You can come with me, but I'm not just giving you a sympathy ab, you know. They're... not cheap."

“And you're not charity, huh?” smirked Abdel, letting the lady pass first before they made their way to their exclusive club. “... How about a credit ab instead?”

The girls - and boys - of the Swirl could sense that Marceline wasn't here for their offerings and so their greetings were simple and friendly and perfunctory. She led Abdel past the bar area, which was at its emptiest at this time of day, and towards a curtained room near the latrines. She sighed and regarded him evaluatively, hesitating. "You're not gonna leave me hanging, right?" she asked with an unexpected intensity.

Abdel, on the other had, tried to keep himself tense-free. “You know where I live. And where my girls live.” he chuckled. “I wouldn't do you dirty, Marci.”

She seemed to slacken a bit at that. "Yeah, I know. Sorry." She laughed weakly and scratched at the back of her head, kind of like Rikard sometimes did. "It's just... you know: people like us really need this stuff and I always have to keep enough cash on hand just in case." She forced a smile and a pep in her step. "I can spot you for now, even interest-free this time."

“Interest-free?” Abdel grimaced. “Who are you and what did you do to Marceline?” he jested. “This is almost too good to be true, if you ask me. Either the abs are not what we thought, or these coins are going to be the end of me.” he sighed.

"I am a generous god," she chuckled, pushing through. Beyond was a dark room, and a couple of large shadowy figured hovered about, but the underaged duo was never approached. "But I have my suspicions as well." She twisted and shrugged in the dimness. "trying to stay optimistic." She led Abdel to a door near the back, then, and opened it to reveal a closet within. "Hand," She commanded matter-of-factly.

“Sure thing, Jo.” the hand was ordered, and so it came.

And, finally, they set foot into the Groove, the supposed salvation of their kind.

Abdel's attention was quickly taken by something that was not the aberration café, or even the bar. “Is that a frog?”

Marci knocked on the back wall in a distinctive pattern and then... stepped right through, taking him with her. Inside was, well... The Groove. It still hadn't quite lost its wonder for her either. "You know, I've never actually asked," she admitted. "Looks kinda intelligent, though, right?" She'd lowered her voice, of course. "Or as intelligent as a frog can be, at least." She'd released his hand and was leading him towards the bar anyhow, sparing glimpses in the strange being's direction.

The closer they got to the bar, the easier to was to notice the sign next to the notorious Goroci. “'Cee Weird Sign One. Is - Is that a lot?” he took a seat but just couldn't get his eyes off the improvised stand of the Zweihander wielding individual. “If it is, there's your guarantee.”

Marceline had seated herself as well. She glanced over her shoulder. "Abdel," she replied, voice barely above a whisper, "you don't have to go on a suicide mission." There was a quick, tight smile. Meanwhile, a couple of yasoi were letting out sighs of delight as they twirled about inside of black aberrations. A sickly-looking old woman took in a white and seemed to recover before their very eyes. "I trust that you're good for it. Pay me back when you can. Okay?"

Abdel turned to look at her. The levity was nowhere to be found in his eyes. There was something in there, something serious and that needed to get out. Anger, or maybe fear, that grew exponentially when concern mistaken for pity was tended to him. But, quickly enough, he smiled with his features softened. “Almost had me there,” he shook his head. “but we've seen the worst before, haven't we, Marci?” his elbows rested over the counter as he leaned forward. “Dictators, demons, infested dragons ... What's some Froggy odd job with a bit of peril at this point?”

She snorted. "That's exactly why I trust nothing at this point." There was an unsure smile that grew, with some coaxing, into a smirk. The bartender was a thin, towering, unusual-looking woman who strode up to them silently. She must've been over eight feet tall and was distinctly yasoi and... something else. "Hello, dears, and what can I get for you?" she offered, tilting her head. With every word she spoke, a series of colours and images that seemed to support her meaning flashed about her.

Abdel looked up to acknowledge the unusually tall woman. Ogauraq, he thought, with a good serving of Yasoi too. “Uhm,” he looked at Marci for the okay before passing the order. “Two,” he pointed at one of the options on display. “Greys ...?”

"Small greys," Marceline hastily amended, and the towering woman bowed her head in a very Retanese way. "And that will be all?" Images of money and conclusions and the aberrations flashed through the air around them. Marci seemed entranced. "Oh! Why yes," she confirmed, taking out the necessary coin and blushing. "Very good. I certainly hope they do the job." The barkeep smiled and moved off: huge and ponderous on the one hand, incredibly graceful on the other. Marceline leaned in "Is that... an ogre-rack?" she whispered with no small measure of wonder.

Abdel's zoned out completely, he himself entranced by the aberrations. When beckoned by Marci, he had to shake himself out of his gluttonous daze. “Huh? Oh.” he shamelessly gawked at the bartender. “Yeah. They always do the funny image thing too. We -” he was about to go on a tangent. A not so pleasant one, considering what happened to the giants of ReTan during their visit. “Nevermind.” he focused on what mattered. “Bon appétit, I guess?”

This did not go unnoticed by Marci, but she wasn't about to prod. That wasn't the sort of relationship they had. The bartender arrived and with a surge of magic and a double snap of the fingers, a pair of cantaloupe-sized grey aberrations appeared in front of the pair of young tethered. "You enjoy it all, now. Alright?" More of those images flashed about.

"Guten appetit," she replied, heart already starting to beat faster. She wanted it and now it was hers. Marceline reached out and...

Out of the Vermillion Swirl came out two teens with swollen with energy, hopes and RAS. The Greys, as they call them, had done their work and the staff waved yet another set of happy customers goodbye.

“Really makes you think,” Abdel couldn't help but question his blessings. “how do they get these?” he said as the overflow of energy had him do a couple of leg intensive stretches. The persistent ants pricking his feet were gone were gone.

Marci was busy flexing her toes back and forth. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. Everything was back to normal. Jauntily, or perhaps just to bleed off some of the excess energy, she twirled on the spot. "Oh, I wonder quite a bit as well," she admitted, coming to a stop. Her hair swished about her and she took a moment to reach up and fix it. "but as long as the keep-me-not-crippled juice keeps a-comin', I won't ask any questions..." She furrowed her brow and there was a surge of magic as she dropped a sonic negation bubble around them. "unless there's a way to cut out the middleman, of course."

The Hourglass Order

Death. Destruction. Pandemonium!

Core tenets of the Mad Avatar, ordained by the voices of the black tears in the world. All that stood in her way, all those that were a stain to her grand design, all that failed to quell her fury, they had to perish.

Dorothea nearly lost her life. Yuliya was next. But before long, an awe-inspiring flash of light rid the world of the Mad Avatar. The shunned hero, Born-on-Solstice may very well have saved many lives. But only Intaba knew this wasn’t a once and for all deal. Vaughn Marbrand made his move, and Juliette was now among them once again.

So help the established order the day the siblings make peace with their endeavours and unite.

---

♫

When Juulet came to, still quite dazed, she was in a room, on a bed, surrounded by the fluffiest pillows. Her childhood stuffed toy, Miss Monke, was there beside her. Leaning over her was... Tannifer. "Oh thank Oraff!" she exclaimed, "You're okay!" There was no pretense. The yanii leaned in and enfolded her in a warm, tight embrace. "We've been looking for you for so long," she bawled, blinking back tears. "So long, sugarplum." She pushed herself back. "And you're so..." Her eyes searched the yasoi's. "Grown up now." She glanced over her shoulder. "I can't believe we've found you."

The groggy and very recently half-alive Juulet awoke to ... Yaniis. Not just Yaniis - familiarity. The first thing that hit her wasn't their faces, or voices or even the linens. It was the smells. The odour of a person, even through their cologne was recognizable to those close to them. This woman's evoked memories, but the plush by her was the one to trigger the most. The hug was met with surprise and a half-hearted pat from a still dazed Juulet. A stark contrast to the consistently aggressive and bombastic creature that terrorized Ersand'Enise.

She silently reached out for the toy, looked at it with longing. Tannifer could tell she remembered, if only a little bit.

“That's what happens when years pass by.” she remarked as she regarded her elder sister. “Many, many years.” a twinge of bitterness could be found in her tone, but her eyes remained half-lidded with little emotion to be communicated. “You've gotten old too.” she smirked, head tilted cheekily. The plush was clenched close to her chest.

From the nearby kitchen could be heard the pop and sizzle of something being cooked on a stovetop. The unmistakable aroma of omelette, with Mycormish parsley and Lindenholdt sausage slices, wafted towards her.

For a moment, Tannifer's face filled with rueful mirth. "I thought I'd hidden the greys pretty well," she laughed, tilting her head in the exact same way. They were nearly mirror images of each other. Then, her expression saddened. "I'm so sorry, suunei." She swallowed and reached out for her little sister's cheek, to stroke it. This was very much not the roguish, fly-by-the-wind zeno that most students knew. She seemed an entirely different woman. At the last moment, she paused, as if unsure, as if waiting for some sort of permission. "It happened so suddenly. You were there and then you weren't and... Shune, we tried, but we couldn't find you." She shook her head. "We searched for years. You were deep within yasoi lands, weren't you?" She swallowed and shook her head bitterly. She opened her mouth as if to ask more, but then a small thump to the side drew her attention. There was a cat there: old and grumpy, with brown and orange stripes.

Juulet initially went to lean into the attempt caress, but found herself quickly retreating back when the hand that touched her was not the one she had grown to know and love. It didn't feel right. Only one ever showed this tenderness to her.

“I was with my mother, yes. In the homeland.” she answered somewhat dryly, in an almost defensive manner. “Everything was fine,” she claimed, her look intense at first like she was trying to simulate confidence, but upon meeting her sister's eyes, she softened. “I promise. I was alright.” she smiled, internally hoping the subject would just vanish.

Luckily for her, a distraction occurred. A cat! “Is that Mister Biggles?!” she was just about ready to bounce, but just reached for the animal to tug it close and join the monke. “He's so big. He was sooooooooooo small! Teenie tiny. Yer a grumpy one, aren't you, huh?” she nuzzled the poor, old animal that likely wasn't used to so much attention. “So, what's cooking?”

The cat tried to squirm away, but it wasn't able to muster a hiss. After some time, it settled into dull acceptance.

Tannifer, meanwhile, could sense that her younger sister - half-sister, in truth - was very much not the girl who'd been stolen away a dozen years ago, and how could she be, in all honesty? Fine? she thought, You were aberration mad and minus an entire leg! Yet, it seemed a sensitive topic and Juliet seemed happy enough and that was what was important right now. The Zeno knew when to back off. She retracted her hand and rose. "You don't recognize the smell?" Tannifer shook her head. "Where's that bloodhound sense of smell you used to brag about, hmm?" Turning on her heel, she began padding softly to the kitchen. "Don't stand too suddenly," she added, motioning in passing at the girl's crutches. "He took most of the sickness out, but, well... you know how it is with balance after one of those."

That both elder Marbrands had taken them in the past was no secret between the three, but their younger sister, half-yasoi to boot, had been to young to join in. She had only just started to develop her first hints of magic when she'd been stolen.

Mr. Bigglesworth - or Biggles, for short - merely dug his claws into Juulet just enough to cause discomfort and ensure his grip. He let out a small noise of feline annoyance.

“Eggs.” Juulet, or rather Juliette in this household, realized quickly enough. “I haven't had chicken eggs since ...” she wiggled her nose and squinted. “A while. And meat. Defo some meat. Oh yeah.” and despite the warnings, she hopped off her bedding after gently prying the discontent cat off her. Still, even with her experiences and inclinations, she regretted not heeding the warning a little more as she nearly fell on her rear and just barely found balance with her crutches.

“'Ey, Vaughn.” she called out, her voice changed but the cadence was almost depressingly nostalgic as if time hadn't passed at all. She made her way to the source of the food with the help of her crutches. “I heard some guy called Marbrand ate shit with the school-” she couldn't help opening with a little bit of provocation. “Did you actually shit on the Yanii squares?” an impish smile took form on her visage as she regarded both him and the feast dedicated to her. “Badass. Heh. Heh.”

He was just scooping the omelette delicately into a plate and he scowled. "Still a little fuckstick, I see." He shook his head. "And you know that was a good job." There were beans, as well, and toast, and her old favourite: lindenholdt sausage. Vaughn slid it onto the table and went back to the stove. "Pay was sweet, and I got to steal all their secrets." He winked. "Tanny's still there, you know."

"Haven't managed to get fired yet," she agreed, sitting across from her sister. Vaughn slid a second plate her way. "I missed you, kid." There was no big sappy speech, no attempt to hug her, or anything like that. "Lots." It wasn't his way. He was thirty-two and, by his reckoning, she was nineteen now. They were far from being peers but, while Tannifer had seemed a bit like a mother at times, he'd made no pretenses at being anything more than someone who'd teased and played with his little runt of a half-sister.

He brought the last plate over and sat at the head of the table. "First time in a long time - even for me and Tanny here - don't tell me if my cooking sucks, okay?"

“Fuuuuuck youuuuu.” Juliette flipped off her brother and took a seat. Her early education had gone out the window and her posture could be generously described as casual. Nothing ladylike. A little fuckstick indeed. Immediately she dug into the coveted sausage and couldn't help but speak whilst eating. “Fwuck yew fer bein' - Mmm- such an awesome cook. What the fuck. Why teach? You should do this.” and, for a moment, she immitated Vaughn's voice, accent and all, “Where's m'fuckin' lamb sauce?!” she tapped the table a couple of time before continuing her feast.

It was a nice moment, one most would believe she'd have forgotten, but clearly she hadn't. This was home, and for a moment she could forget what she truly was. “I-” she pursed her lips in hesitation. “Missed you too. Even papa. But, I couldn't write to you. Not with the blockades.” she regretfully expressed, although were there ever such embargoes in Yasoi lands?

Then she regarded Tanny, her half-sister and a near monther-figure. “You might not have a job anymore after this. I fucked up.” she realized, eyes peered down and jaw shifting in growing nervousness. “I fucked up hard, and because of that you did too. You shouldn't ...”

For a brief while, there was laughter around the Marbrand family table: Vaughn, Tannifer, and Juliette brought together for the first time in years. Biggles wove his way between the various legs beneath it, rubbing up against them, purring, and being a generally adorable nuisance. It was a stark contrast to how things had been for far too long.

Then, as all good things do, it had to end. At Juliette's words, Tanny regarded her and, for a second, there was a hint of sternness. "I shouldn't what?" she replied, "let someone hurt my sister again?" She shook her head, stabbing at her sausage. "I won't fail you, Juli, never again."

Vaughn's face was serious. "They won't send their dogs after me. It'll either be an arch or nobody." He shook his head. "I'm not defenseless."

"And they keep me around in hopes of gettin' to him," said Tanny, jerking a thumb in her brother's direction.

He nodded, swallowing some omelette. "But here's the truth, kiddo:" His eyes both narrowed and gleamed. "We're strong, and we have strong allies." A grin grew. "Yeah, you goofed."

Tannifer nodded. "Nothing wrong with some of the good stuff, but you know you've gotta self-regulate." She pursed her lips. "Or that happens." She tilted her chin back at the bedroom.

"Anyway, truth is, they're scared of us." Vaughn was grinning now. "And with all three of us?" He laughed and leaned back, dabbing at his mouth with a kerchief. "We can really start to do it. We can build our own power base. We can topple this whole fuckin' order."

Tannifer arched an eyebrow. "Or just do family things in peace..."

He shrugged, fingers drumming on the tabletop. "Yeah, or that," he admitted. Notably, perhaps, they hadn't spoken about their father. A couple of glances were exchanged. If it was a large kitchen, the elephants hiding behind the furniture had the potential to make it seem much smaller than it was.

It was there that Juliette remembered who she was - Juulet, the true Avatar of Vyshta. And her remark, initially one of concern, had another facet of pride and hubris worthy of one convinced they were a God.

“You shouldn't have, because those nothings couldn't do anything to a Goddess.” she said in a tone that could be interpreted as a bad joke at first, but the lack of any follow-up made it quickly come off as genuine. “I was fine. You shouldn't have fucked your gravy wagon over my bullshit.” she leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms, stump over her opposite thigh too.

Then the notion of family came. Juulet felt a warmth take hold - something good that she felt like she had to stifle. It felt too good, to the point of feeling like an indulgence, and thus a weakness. She was beginning to feel too vulnerable. “I can't stay.” she said bluntly. “I ... Want to stay longer, but I have a responsibility to my people. As their light and leader.” the way she spoke, it was the Juliette she had naturally emerged from over a decade of absence, but something that sounded recited.

However, she didn't let this wave of cold spoil the moment. “But you're right. Us three's a banger. After Yasoi lands are saved, we could do some good to the Yanii world too.” she regarded her brother in particular with a complicit grin. “Or just chill ... Maybe take a break before the six years pass. Kinda thought about that until these Grey islander fucks rushed me and-” she shook her head.

Vaughn very much recognized, in that instant, what he had suspected all along: that his little sister was quite insane. Twelve years apart and... Gods only knew what the world had done to her. For starters, she'd been fed a consistent diet of aberrations. The addiction was obvious and severe. Then, they'd taken her leg and... had people simply begun worshipping her as the fallen goddess' avatar or had she purposely crafted herself into the role? A darker thought occurred to him. She'd mentioned a 'mother' earlier. Had someone else done it instead? In any case, she'd have died, beyond any shadow of a doubt, had he and Tanny not intervened. They'd been unsure. They'd taken the risk. They'd been right. It was her, but it was... not her. No, that was wrong. It was Juliette, but she'd grown wild, feral, outside of their supervision.

Not that Mr. Bigglesworth seemed to notice. The cat appeared to be making up for lost time, rubbing quite aggressively up against Juliette's lone leg and purring, batting playfully at the tips of her forearm crutches, gnawing on their goma rubber treads.

Tannifer, finishing her omelette, smiled grimly. "I wouldn't dream of trying to stop you, but... don't just disappear on us," she entreated. "We're stronger together, and..." She sighed, fussing with her hair a bit. "Doesn't hurt to have people who have your back, even for the strongest of us."

Vaughn, not quite finished eating, placed his knife down gently. "Then you go," he decided, "and be the goddess they need, especially with the Grey Fleet." He stood and pushed his chair in, signaling an end to the affair.

“Anyway - Is Papa still kicking?”

"Father is..." He shrugged.

"Gone," Tannifer confirmed. "Aberration madness." She wrapped her arms around herself almost... protectively.

Juulet scoffed, and then chuckled. “Lightweight.” she muttered at the announcement of her father's passing. Then, she laughed with the shakiest of voices. “Fuck. I'll miss the man.” she clenched her fist and raised it, hesitant to just unleash like she always did, only to let go soon after.

Vaughn nodded. "Petrified, in the end." He scowled. He could've warned her to learn from their father's example. He could've lectured. It wouldn't have helped. He loved her, his little sister, but he had to let her go. He could tell that the feeling was mutual.

Tannifer brushed around the table to embrace Juliette. "You stay safe, you little shit, okay?" She reached up and brushed some hair from the teen's face. "Use every ounce of that godly power if you've gotta, understand?" She shook her head. "Well... I'm sure you do."

"Oh, and if there's anything you wanna take with you, help yourself. It's yours, after all."

Vaughn was leaning there against the counter: shoulders broad, arms crossed, watching his younger sibling. Breakfast was cleaning itself up behind him, in the grip of chemical, blood, and kinetic magics. He nodded her way. "Write sometime, huh?"

Things remained sentimental, something Juulet had never been good with. The discomfort was evident with the avoidance of eye contact whenever Tannifer manifested her cares and worries. “Nah, I won't write.” spoken like a true brat. She reached under her leg to seize the increasingly affectionate Biggles for a brief cuddle session, even if the notion of being held in such a manner never enthused him. “I'll just pop in here. Now that I know I'm welcome.” she smiled. “I figured after being gone for so long ... I guess I overthought.” she shrugged before releasing the poor animal with a peppering of kisses on his head to go.

It was Juliette's turn to be showered with affection. She still didn't quite know what to do with something so ... Genuine. Her arms closed in a mechanical motion as if her joints had long since petrified. Her body was stiff, on guard. But eventually, after resting her chin over her sister's shoulder, she let herself melt into it. Eyes closed and deep breaths to take in the finer details of the moment. “I'll be safe. Not so sure about some fucko's that think they can pull fast ones on me.” As departures were inevitable, Juulet reared her head more and more. This wild critter was going to be trouble no matter what, and yet it seemed her family wasn't going to give up on her. Gods, she missed them.

“Actually-” as she presented her flat hand before her sister she had since parted with, Miss Monke appeared on her palm. “Monke. She kind of reminds me of a friend from Hyparii. And he goes to school here too. Far to good for us scumbags.” she chuckled.

It was on that note that they parted. Vaughn sighed when she was gone. Tannifer closed the door with her own hands instead of magic. Then, the two of them were in this room together, alone, for the first time since their father had gone. "We can bring her back," Tanny said, with a shaky sort of certainty. "She's been through the wringer, but she's still there. She's still her."

Vaughn's arms remained crossed, his eyes lingering on the door. He dropped a sonic bubble around them, just in case. "Maybe," he allowed, shrugging and finally peeling his eyes away. "But whoever 'mother' is, we don't have a chance until she's dealt with."

The Hourglass Order

The whole derby was essentially free time to share between themselves. When the aberration chaos occurred, they were perched safely on a dragon that had no interest in joining the maelstrom of death below. Before any sense of heroism could take them, however, the Zenos had taken control of the situation and the event was cancelled early.

“Well,” Zarina hopped off her grounded dragon, right at the back of her property with the fire melon still in their possession and neutralised. “we did good. Didn’t we?” she offered her hand to the object of her immense affection with a shining smile greeting the Yasoi that had recently returned from war. “Ah!” the Virangish girl clicked her tongue. “Before I forget - I have something for you.”

She gestured toward the cellar. The large Froabas behind them was first to look in that direction in expectation for a treat. “Right, right.” she produced a steak of dried meat from one of her pouches and hurled the thing right into the beast’s maw.

Miret cocked her head to one side. “Well, I had something for you too,” she replied with an enigmatic smile, “but ladies first.” Much as she loathed closed in spaces and, particularly cellars, she made to follow.

♫

“You did?” Zarina perked up after failing to hide her surprise. The dubious grin had her visibly nervous. “Hah, way to make me conscious on whether my gift's good or not!” she giggled as they descended. With a flick of her wrist, the nearby lanterns were lit up, revealing multiple crates and tools stored inside, as well as a door leading to an adjacent room.

With a light kick to the corner, a crate unfolded itself in the most satisfying manner imaginable and revealed a crescent shaped mass with a sharp edge. The thick end of it easily identified it as some sort of claw. “Voilà.” Zarina gestured dramatically. “Sand Wyrm claw. 'Cause, you know ...” her hands went to her hips as she fumbled a bit with her words. “War and stuff. I probably shouldn't be doing this, giving top armor material stuff, but ...” she pursed her lips and eyed her beloved Yasoi's visage. “I'd be real heartbroken if something happened to you.”

“Aww shucks,” purred Miret, “You really know how to butter a girl up.” She dawdled around, glancing uneasily up at the ceiling. But then came the gift, and it was... quite the rare thing. “Hah!” the yasoi laughed. “I'd be pretty gutted too,” she admitted, accepting the gift. “Sand wyrm claw... where in the five hells did you get this?”

“Uhhh.” Zarina looked Miret straight in the eye, deadpan. “Torragon. From a Sand Wyrm.”

Miret blinked. “It, like... died?” She arched an eyebrow uncertainly.

“No,” Zarina smirked. “I made a trade deal with it.”

Miret's eyes widened. They remained that way for a second before narrowing. “Oh... Hah! Aha! You're messing with me. Holy shit. You really killed a sand wyrm?”

Zarina snorted. “You know, I did make a sort-of deal with one before.” she crossed her arms and feigned some exaggerated smugness. “But, yeah, me and some comrades. Like, a year ago. The thing was huge - this big.” she stretched her arms out as far as they could to add to her skit. “And aberration mad. We almost didn't make it.” then she tapped the big piece of Wyrm. “Anyway, yeah, all for you! You may needa very good smith, however.”

Miret leaned in and kissed her, one leg up in behind her, hands clasped at the small of her back, fairylike. She pulled back, smiling. “Well shucks, now you've got me worried my little souvenir is gonna pale in comparison...” She'd been carrying a rucksack with her the entire time and had only put it down once they'd gone indoors. She began to reach for it.

Zarina was completely disarmed by the kiss. All the faux-confidence and flexing just melted away. She held onto Miret by the neck, even as the grand reveal was about to occur. Although the suspense barely got to her, as her attention hardly alternated from the Tanso survivor's visage. “Glad you like it.” she whispered.

Miret held the bag out. She batted her eyelashes and giggled. “It wasn't easy to get,” she admitted, holding back a large smile. “They don't usually allow us war trophies and all." She blushed, “But -here - take a look! It's the severed head of that bitch queen!”

Zarina flinched. Did she hear that right? The smile was still there, and she let out a giggle. “No shit?” her heart began to beat fast. The Yasoi's acting was on point, if it even was an act. “Isn't this how the wild folks of the other continent propose?” she joked, but concern only grew. She began to draw - only a little of course - just to peek inside the veil. Was she in for a gruesome surprise, or did she fall for a grand troll?

Miret nodded earnestly. “It is customary to bring the head of a fallen enemy to your beloved in my culture.” She blinked and smiled uncertainly. “This is how we Tarlonese demonstrate that we will provide and protect from the dangers of the unforgiving wild.” She thrust it with greater enthusiasm into Zarina's arms. Something vaguely round thumped against her chest.

Zarina backed up, only to actually have some space between them as the spherical souvenir from Tanso was thrusted into her arms and chest. Fuck. She did her best to barely cover any surface of the 'gift', mortified by the notion of feeling a nose or eye cavity. She looked up to Miret with an uncertain smile. “O-okay then.” she just had to be sure. The back was loosened and slowly opened to reveal ...

Indeed, it was a head…

Of lettuce.

“Savages, cabbages,” Miret joked, grinning widely, “Similar sound, nuh-uh?” She flipped her hair over a shoulder. “This is Eluuxo,” she explained, “a rare and valuable plant that has an effect like coffee, alcohol, and... well, it excites one in other ways as well." She pursed her lips. “I did take me down a bitch queen of Tanso,” she admitted, “and her palace was just full of the stuff.” Miret shook her head in disappointment. “Bloody degenerates.” She smirked.

A cabbage. A fat sigh of relief was warranted. “Fucking hells.” a big burden gone, although a tad bit of frustration had to be released in the form of a harmless punch to the shoulder. “Eat my ass, you had me there you wicked bruja!” she shook her head, and then took a moment to admire the head in her head.

Then, she cackled. “Other ways, eh?” and with little hesitation, she plucked a leaf and took a bite. “Not that I need it with you around.” she stepped forward in a sudden, brisk movement to reach her heand onto the small of Miret's back. “Tell me all about your grand exploits, great conqueror.” she leaned in, nose meeting with Zaz's hair falling onto Miret's shoulder. “Show this Yanii who's on truly on top.”

“Getting some head already?” Miret teased. “You know there's a way to prepare it, you degenerate.” She leaned in for another kiss, took Zarina's hand, and closed the door with a thought and a bit of magic. Locks clicked. Lights dimmed.

***

It was dark out, although not yet the hours of Ipte. There were no melon themed celebrations, leaving the streets eerily quiet for a trials night. A quietude born of a quickly stifled tragedy, but a tragedy nonetheless. It was nice, Zarina found, if she didn't think too much about it.

“Hey,” she cooed behind her partner's pointed ear whilst embracing her from behind. “did you actually ... Kill that queen?” the big spoon tightened her hold a little more. “Did you have to do a lot of that?”

Miret had wanted to lie there and fade into the embrace of sleep, but there was an unwelcome whisper in her ear from a welcome voice. Her hazy mind settled on pretending to be asleep. She shifted slightly, as one does when disturbed from slumber, and let out a soft moan. “Mmm.”

Zarina swallowed when she fell for the ploy. “Sorry.” she uttered in the mousiest of voices. “Good, hmm,” she paused for a moment to recite a word that wasn't all that intuitive for her to pronounce. “saluuv.”

Miret's heart hammered a little faster and a twinge of guilt prickled inside of her, ready to join its many peers. She made a tired sound and squeezed Zarina's hand with a tired tightness. “Y'too,” she murmured, before drifting off. Only, she didn't sleep for a good long time.

---

Ever since the Student Faire, Zarina had a certain glow about her. She had already been less of a recluse and now she was the radiant light of the room. It was undoubtedly that Yasoi girl that had made it a habit to come over that was behind some of it. While opinions may vary on the nature of her second wind, one couldn’t question the Virangish's drive for productivity and even the over-the-top games of the Trials. Zarina was back with a more approachable air to her, essentially.

The Dragon was the next trial, and with it came an unusual announcement in regards to the leg taking place in Citivalunga. Or rather, a warning to maintain good behaviour and consideration.

“So it’s actually happening, eh?”

Marceline had made a habit of meeting with Zarina every morning so that they could discuss business and, while the coming of The Trials had forced some adjustments to their schedules, it was not going to get in the way of this initiative.

They stood beside each other in the crowd, both slightly separate from their teams, Marceline updating her older partner on the operation of their locations and Zarina filling her in on supply chain matters. There was a good deal of friendly and, at times, teasing banter regarding the earlier Melon Derby and, presently, High Zeno Bastaner was discussing the next event on the docket: The Dragon.

Marci's eyebrows went up. "Yeah. Wow. They're actually acknowledging it." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like it one bit." She twisted to look over and up at Zarina. "Means it's close: dangerously close."

Zarina peered to her younger business partner. “Scared?” she smiled with an air of confidence to her. “I kind of am too, really.” she deflated, her hand rising up to brush some hair that had already been neatly tucked behind her ear to undo it so she could put it back in place. A typical nervous habit of her's. “No more coffee lines. The fuck do we do after that?”

Marceline furrowed her brow. "That is the big looming worry. Thing is... if we've noticed, others have." The Zeno was moving on to the conclusion of his speech and she'd have to go within moments. "How much do you think the prices have risen already?"

“Too much.” answered Zarina, arms crossed as numbers were crunched in his simple little head. “Do we just unga-bunga Eskandish-style it?” she regarded Marci, uncertain.

Marceline nibbled her bottom lip. "Yeah," she agreed. "I think we do. We just... need to raise the capital somehow because, if we do this, we do it all the way." Her eyes flicked Zarina's way again, in seriousness. "We'll need an obscene amount to ride out a bloody war."

Zarina shrugged. “We do what upstarts always do.” she began, a tad cryptic before shooting a grin at her close friend. “Borrow it from whales and have a backup plan for running away with it if shit gets that bad.”

"And I'm the devious one," Marci joked in response. She shook her head good-naturedly as the High Zeno bid them to join their teams and prepare for the opening of the portals. "Looks like we'll have to discuss it later," she replied in earnest. "But you're right, and we'll need to get a move on it soon, too." She'd already taken a few steps back, but then she paused and darted forward, enfolding Zarina in a quick embrace. "You look happy, suunei." She smiled and blushed a touch. "Stay well and good luck!" Then, they were separated and she was backing away into the crowd and her focus turned, in its entirety, to the race ahead.

Zarina flashed a smirk and winked at Marceline, before departing with a thumbs up out of her extended arm.

---

You got this Zaz.

Zarina was in full leotard, hair tied into a net and goggles tightly bound to her head. One would barely be able to recognize her.

It’s just a race, they’ll revive you if shit goes wrong.

Although it wasn’t the girl that stood out but the gargantuan creature she was riding. Bigger than anything else and visibly grumpy from having a minuscule creature ride it. The Blue Water Behemoth was her choice and apparently she was the only one crazy enough to take it.

I’m gonna taste death for the first time, aren’t?

A low, reverberating growl was emitted from the creature. Almost as if it could smell her fear.

Just do like you did i-

A whistle indicated the relay for Raffscallions. She was first! Zarina, instead of panicking, spurred the beast into action, surprising it instead. Her partner followed behind, slow and steady.

♫

Drugs, that was what her wildblood colleague had found. A boost for threshers, one she mindlessly fed her steed right before Abdel’s long-range disruption.

Chaos ensued.

Few were spared from the Behemoth’s wrath. Zarina did her very best to hold it back, and to a degree she did with control over where the rage was channelled. A select group was pursued, and the ruins were made even more ruined. Ultimately, though, the Behemoth became unconquerable. Nothing could stop its aquatic stride and damned be those that tried.

Deep in the centre of the sunken city, Zarina dug unperturbed while Axolotl secured their win conditions with the stalwart crackclaw. And there she found it -

The Calesardes Mechanism.

That’s what it would be called if Zarina actually knew what it was. In her eyes, it was a peculiar, oddly unscathed triangular pyramid apparatus with wheels and gears as well as an 'eye' on one sidethat could be of value. Although the faintest hint of temporal stain was perhaps what attracted her to it in the first place.

The rest was merely an ascension with a still agitated Behemoth, but one tuckered out enough to not resist Zarina gentle guidance. Once emerged as an unexpected first, likely due to the chaos she and Abdel had generated, she secured her victory and set her sights on Oweyn soon after his arrival.

Still on her beast, she merely looked down at him.

He looked back.

“You got a box for me?”

”Nope.”

And then he walked off, unimpressed. Zarina didn’t dare hop off her crack-Behemoth just yet.

“Well screw you too.” the beast stirred. “Not you, Ruben.” the tapped Ruben’s carapace, doing little to change its demeanour.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

And now, you will bear witness to the trial of the century, pitting the ruthless Prosecutor, Zorino Chorizo, and the legendary defence attorney, Horisius Justiceman, in one of Dami’s most challenging cases!

♫

The curtain split open, revealing the stage. Flat, wooden props created an improvised courtroom with a witness stand, a judge’s bench and other minor elements that were filled with shadowy silhouettes.

“It may as well be case closed, Horisius! The evidence is overwhelming …” spoke a ‘man’ with exaggerated mannerisms and a fake-deep voice. It was Zorino, wearing a cheap costume of a Perrench attorney, a false moustache and a pair of round glasses. Her index finger waved accusingly to the opposite side of the stage she was standing from. “Your client clearly stole the Monseigneur Box!” she accused dramatically.

A new light shined upon a small, dark figure that waddled into the middle of the stage. It was a black feathered monkeybird! “You are wrong! You are wrong! ZOZZY ZOZZY! You are wrong!” it waved its wing-arms in the air as it paced around to deny the prosecutor’s conclusion. At the tip of its beak was a mustache much like Zorino’s, and a white wig on its head. That was it. “Wrong wrong! Your evidence is bad!”

Zorino blinked as he stared at the talking bird. “Mister Justiceman, why are you not wearing any attire?” he crossed his arms. Although not before quick tossing a treat into the animal’s beak and briefly let out a girlish giggle.

“Because! Because! BECAUSE! I only wear one suit in trial! One suit!” it bobbed its head rapidly before turning to the audience. “A lawsuit!!!!” and with the inevitable laughter of at least some, the animal flailed its arms in an overdose of excitement. It even squawked in celebration.

Zorino nodded. “Touché.” he grumbled, then turned to the audience, head by his cheek as if whispering to them. “This guy’s good … His confidence off the charts!” and Horisius let out another howl of joy hearing this, earning him a treat.

“But your client has yet to deny the allegations and you have to refute the evidence! And now I turn to the suspect …”

A light shone onto the witness stand. And it was none other than another monkeybird popping its out from below. This one with a bonnet and a small dress. “Didn’t do it! Didn’t do it!” it bobbed its head like the other did. “Innocent! Was not me! Innocent!” and it earned itself a treat.

Seeing a treat being given, the lawyer also joined in. “Innocent!”

“And yet, miss Maatilda, how can you explain Captain Nibblar spotting you the previous night by the auction house, hmm?” hands on her hips, he leaned into the bird’s space, and then looked to the audience

Then, an awkward pause.

Someone even coughed.

Zorino blinked, the monkeybirds were wide-eyed and grooming themselves.

A little sack of treats had to be shaken. That woke them up!

“OBJECTION!” shouted the dark attorney.

“Objection! Objection!” added the suspect, waving one arm in the air.

The veil on the judge’s bench opened, revealing none other than …

Judge Duyuniros, the Gurgler! The big Skuggvar almost looked to be standing on two feet, both front legs on the big podium, wearing a judge’s wig, a proper magistrate’s attire and a fake beard.

*Gurgle Gurgle*

“SUSTAINED?!” explained Zorino in disbelief. “That was my key witness statement!! Lord Justice!”

A low growl escaped the beast.

“No, I apologize.” he raised his hands in surrender. “No contempt intended!”

“Shame! Shame! You should be shame!” it was Horisius’ turn to point fingers, this time at the prosecutor. “So bad! How do you sleep at night?!” its little feet couldn’t stop hopping in excitement as it looked at the audience.

“Well, that’s easy. Like any good public prosecutor …” he turned to look at the audience. “I lie on one side. And then I lie on the other!” big, goofy smile, followed by more treat distribution.

“Question question question!!!” Horisius turned to the witness/suspect. “Who stole? Who stole? Who stole?”

Then, another pause. This one, purposeful, as Maatilda raised her wing to point at Zorino.

Everyone gasped, and the judge burped.

“W-what?! Impossible!”

Then, a box resembling a bootleg Monsigneus music box fell out of his suit. The audience was stunned!

“I can explain!”

“Enough!” a voice clearly coming from the back shunned the attorney. It sounded masculine, and the deepness artificial. “As Lord Justice, I condemn you to five months in Eskand!” the foot-gavel stomped.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Take away! Take Away!” said one monkeybird. “Take, take, take!!!” wailed the other.

Another skuggvar, one with a lamplighter uniform and a goofy constable hat, walked from one end of the stage to the other, dragging Zorino with it, without a single care in the world.

“Another to my flawless record!” the disembodied voice said. “If I keep dishing out justice like this, I should become a chef!” then, the judge gurgled.

“Justice! Justice! Risotto Artist. Did you get?! Did you get?!”

A light shined on the one last spot that was left dark. There was a white horse’s head with a paintbrush held in its mouth. The canvas was turned, revealing only a carrot. Everyone, including the animals, facepalmed.

Then out came Zorino, now in a prisoner’s attire.

“Looks like he couldn’t draw a reasonable conclusion!”

And then everyone struck a pose.

♫

The curtain closed, only to open a minute later with every participant. Zarina, Abdel, Dayanara, Qadire, Horus, Maat and Riesco. With claps, they bowed!

---

♫

Leon Solaire sat on the edge of the stage, allowing his legs to dangle off the side. He was close enough to be in talking distance to the student's who filtered in earlier. He spent the time chatting away and telling stories as the crowd filtered in.

Once the audience was in full attendance, or close enough, he addressed the crowd.

"Welcome, welcome, I'm glad you could make it." He declared with arms open. "While it pains me that I can only be here tonight before the road calls me back, I plan to give you all an unforgettable show."

Leon stood up and grabbed his lute. He gave the instrument a final check to make sure it was tuned. "I would like to introduce the Spirito Dell'alba band who will be providing back up music. Although, they are very good musicians, very good. I'm a little nervous I'll only look like a pretty face by comparison," he joked.

"Well, I think I've kept you all waiting long enough. My first song will be a new song, first heard tonight! I was inspired by a figure who I met a few days ago on the road. A king of honour and kindness. Despite wearing a mask, I could tell that he was unnaturally handsome and charming as well. I was surprised to find he is competing in your trails. So please give all your love and support in my place. This is Flight of the Sun King."

The song begun with about thirty seconds of Leon alone playing a simple tune on the lute while singing along. Until the light displays characteristic of the performer started and the show had truly begun.

Here came Zarina, along with this Tarlonese Yasoi girl she had been one upping with for the majority of the faire. The looks she not-so-subtly returned to that girl were not going to stop, even with a show like this one. But, it was about fifty-fifty. "Hey, you still owe us for the trials last year!" she called out and waved.

Back up on stage, Leon prepared for the finale.

"Before we begin, I have two tokens to hand out. One a token for these faire game, and one a token of my undying appreciation."

He tossed a token into the front of the crowd, then a rose straight into the middle of the audience.

"Now without further adieu, the finale." Leon set his lute aside and took the lyre out from his back, playing a divine melody for the crowd.

Zarina was the lucky one to catch the rose.

Zarina, gaining the rose, would feel a metal clink around the rose. Three tokens painted green had been tied to the rose.

The Virangish winner grinned, realizing the spoils she had just won. But, her focus was on something else, truthfully. A token was flung toward her close friend's direction - Marci's. And two others were tossed into the air, letting Dami choose the worthy!

And now with the symbol of Ahn-Ipte, Zarina turned to Miret with the look. The rose-prop in hand, and then cornily placed into her mouth. Come. She gestured. She wanted to dance.

Miret leaned in, trying to snatch it away with her own lips. After a moment, she pulled back and giggled playfully. "Yes. Let's!"

All the while, Zarina was unusually fixated on her dance partner. They radiated an energy that would be promptly denied if ever asked afterward - one of passion and want! She was, after all, a dancer since her childhood. It was her element, even if she had long since lost the passion for it. She led the footwork, and taught Miret as they went, and in turn was receptive to her partner's own style.

"I never knew yanii dances could be so fuuunnn!" Miret squealed, giggling and trying to snatch the rose away every time that they came close. Zarina was always a half-step ahead of her, though: light and elegant and... Miret usually preferred men, but - by Ypti - she felt a stirring and would not be one to deny the goddess. On their next pull together, she squished herself right up against her partner and winked. She reached down to smack her bottom... as a distraction. Then, she'd get the rose. For sure.

Zarina eep'd! And so loosened the rose. Just slightly, not enough to fall. And just as she faltered, lips met and everything around her went quiet. Completely frozen, a foot still off the ground. It lasted a short moment, and ended with Miret as the new avatar of Ipté. "... Wicked Yasoi." she grumbled, burning red and forehead pressed to the other's. "Making me so, so foul."

"We're all a little foul," replied Miret, eyes searching Zarina's. "It's the sinning that makes sainthood worth something, you know. Over here, though, nobody cares. Ypti only desires love... of every kind." She backed off slightly, dancing: smooth and svelte, strong and graceful and elegant.

Oh the little sweet nothing sayings and mental gymnastics. The admitted foulness they seemingly mutually shared only deepened her fixation over her partner. Now she was the one pursuing. And she played with her food - perhaps out of playfulness, or maybe out of hesitation. Did she want this? He body said yes, but ...

Their eyes met once more, Zarina behind her Yasoi partner, one arm coiled around Miret's waist, and the other extended out with the other's, her's over it, reaching for the rose that was now at the very tip of her fingers. Any sort of conflict washed away in this moment of closeness and warmth. For the first time, she felt intimately close to someone - and loved it.

After a kiss for their audience to see and judge, she whispered. "Let's go."

Miret took the rose, gently, and held it up to her nose. She smiled and took Zarina's hand. "Let's."

---

♫

“You won’t hurt me, right?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, suunei.”

“I’m trusting you. Fully.”

“Don’t be scared. Look into my eyes. And join me, Zaz.”

It had been a while since Zarina had a full night’s worth of sleep. Although maybe not the entirety of the night, the sun had long since risen. Birds were chirping, and other birds were whining for attention - Zarina’s Monkeybirds to be precise. But today, they were not her problem. Today, she was a transformed dragon with nobody really questioning it, and as such chores were taken over by the residents of her home.

Today, she had her favourite new friend to hold close and feel things she had never allowed herself to before. Thoughts of the future ran like a film in her head, from their endless love for eachother, to marriage, to kids, to whatever else a girl could dream when they found their one, true love - generally their first ‘love’. It was all impossible and even silly, and she knew this. But it didn’t stop her from feeling all these fuzzy feelings. The shame and regret was going to come later, so for now it was all goodness and indulgence.

Except, there would be no woman at her bedside. Only an empty spot without even a trace of heat from a recent level.

Zarina refused to open her eyes. It couldn’t be real. Was she really just a one night stand? Surely, she was dreaming.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes opened and the worst case came to be: Nothing. Dumped like a used rag. The poor girl just went limp on her bed, one eye peeked out of her pillow with her long, brown hair partially hiding it. She so wanted to cry, but her ego and anger toward herself stopped her from showing such vulnerability. She wanted to scream, however …

The smell was still there. Her smell - Miret’s. On the opposite pillow, in particular. Zarina reached out weakly to pull in the fabric and just clutched it like it was her lover.

She stayed like this for an hour, drowned in self-pity with sniffles managing to escape her despite her stifling efforts.

It was only when she heard a noise that she noticed more than the pillow before her and the white wall of her room. A note on her nightstand, and again she slowly reached out to read it.

Going off to war after a memory-making fling.

Zarina grit her teeth and felt her fingers hook. She was angry, at first, but then she giggled with a wide, mirthful smile on her visage. There was even a light blush on her face.

Kinda romantic. Even bothered to write a note.

She carefully folded the paper and delicately placed it back onto the nightstand.

“Scandalous Sanguisoi. Gods, don’t crush my little heart, you heartthrob.”

She bit her lower lip and sprawled on her bed. No magic today, and so no worry. But, even with the relief that came with a myriad of emotions, there was a certain loneliness that took her. Even as Somnes came, it felt a tad cold in Zarina’s bedroom.

Until they came.

“ZAZZY ZAZZY!”

“ZAAAAAAZZY!”

The Monkeybirds had managed to push the door open and noticed their mother in bed. And they were sorely lacking in morning attention.

Zarina smiled as she was bird-piled in mere seconds for cuddles and playing.

Thank Vyshta for this fortune.

Now to make sure the others don't realize I'm as useful as a fire sword ...