Futuristic 〄 Help me find my way––!! | (syntranator & starboobie)

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

While hungry eyes seem to devour every inch of the exiled's exposed skin, she manages to ignore those leery gazes and even embrace them when it suits her. With any luck, she won't have to entertain these scoundrels for much longer as she knows, with certainty that has gotten foolish women killed, that Iskra will come for her. Despite everything that has happened between them and all that remains unsaid, the captain made her a promise and she does not see her walking back on that so suddenly. That is not who Verity knows Iskra to be and with that in mind, it reminds her to do what she can to keep herself preserved. Which means not acting in a manner that may bring herself harm––like a hasty assassination attempt. No, her prior failures remind her that in order for that to be effective, she needs to think of an escape route first and to identify that, she will need more information on this hold and the women who are under Demetria's command.

So, rather than entertain either of the options her betrothed has just offered, she smiles at Demetria and suggests, "Oh, we will have all the Time in the galaxy to explore each other's bodies, and yours as well, Lyria," she giggles, "But you know what would make our first night together the most memorable?" Here, Verity leans in close to the blue haired woman, pushing her chest against the other's own and stroking her hands down her sides, gripping the hem of her shirt as if there is real want to her faux desire. "I should think a true celebration is in order––I am a princess after all and feasts are something I miss quite dearly. I can understand if you cannot afford to accommodate such tastes, but if it were to happen... well, have you ever had a princess on her knees, Demetria?" she asks, whispering the question into the other's ear and nibbling on her lobe.

"S-shit––I didn't think you'd be so fun. Thought you'd be the prim and proper type," the punk smirks, pulling Verity in closer to her, "But I'm just not sure that I can fuckin' wait with you being like this."

In spite of what Demetria has just said, Verity does not back down with her tactics. Instead, she doubles down and trails kisses up the punk's neck and whispers just some of what she will do to the punk later should she entertain her fiancée's request; with how fast she feels Demetria's heart beating against her own chest? Oh, she imagines that her words are appealing enough and once she finishes, the punk actually appears flushed. Though she shakes that look from her face quickly, perhaps to not ruin whatever reputation she has with these women.

"Alright, alright," she starts before turning towards the crowd of women that surround them, "Since I'm feeling fuckin' celebratory after winning such a lovely fucking trophy, let's welcome my betrothed to her new home, ladies!" Still holding onto the exiled, she leans down to whispers in her ear, "I have something I want you to wear..."

***

While it comes as no surprise to Halen that the pirate has accepted her offer, perhaps the princess had hoped that Iskra would prove herself a proud fool if only to avoid knowing just who Verity has selected to entertain that whimsical heart of hers. But, a woman of her honor, she is not going to rescind her invitation out of her own discomfort working with outsiders, much less a pirate. Besides, this is for the exiled's benefit and not her own. With the hope that she and this captain Iskra can remember that their goals are the same, perhaps something fruitful can sprout from their efforts. (And the part of Halen that worries for her friend's choice in suitors? Maybe it will settle knowing more about this pirate. Is she like the rest of Verity's ill-chosen lovers? Or is there something about her that sets her apart? So far, Halen has seen no meaningful distinctions between this Iskra and all those other fools before her––you know, Osmunda, Ilana, Seraphina, and so on and so forth. The list is so long, Halen would likely become aged by 10 years if she were to try and list them all out.)

Anyway, with this temporary truce, Halen orders her women to gather the pod in one of their tractor beams and pull it aboard Cynosure. She is pleased, at least, that this pirate seems to be learned in manners and where she doesn't exactly trust her, because only those sentencing themselves to Death would trust a stranger, she does give Iskra the benefit of the doubt. "Anything for the princess, truly," she responds, her tone dry and almost suggesting that she is bored with this interaction already. However, given that this tone is no different from how she has sounded before, it is reasonable to assume this is her natural way of speaking. "Verity's heart, I doubt, can take another Loss. More than that, it seems our goals are the same so despite our differences," she says in a way that could be pointing to one million different things at once, "I would like to increase our chances of rescuing Verity––sages know this is not her dream wedding scenario."

Despite Halen's overall disapproval of Iskra, whether it is because she is not a descendant or because she is a pirate or something else entirely, she does appear mildly impressed with the pirate's plan––mostly likely because she had not thought the pirate would come aboard with one so readily. Not to say she underestimates the other, no that would be unwise especially if this woman is so famous for evading Death, there must something in that mind of hers that allows her to always see an escape. Halen would be remiss to not acknowledge this. "Smugglers?" the princess says, almost disgusted with the prospect of associating herself with beings so lowly––never once has she ever shown up to an establishment without them knowing exactly who she is. She has her pride and there is nothing for her to be so ashamed of that she would disguise herself as something less than what she is. Still, Halen does see the captain's point and where she initially had thought she could work with the Guardians using her status as a princess, with the information that they have been bought out... This may be a good option. Not a great one, mind you, but with Time being of the essence, she sees no reason to aim for perfection for their swiftness will be their greatest ally. "Yes, I do believe we have a spare ship in the hangar bay as well as some weapons we may 'offer' to entice these bastards. Come along," she says, waving the captain through the corridors that mirror Inure's own.

As they walk, Halen wastes no Time in gathering a few more women to join them while ordering the rest to remain on standby while they rescue the princess. She also manages to toss Iskra a cloth mask, "Demetria probably knows our faces by now, so put that on. They're called chameleon skins, because, as the name suggests, they change your appearance." To show just what she means, she pulls her own mask on over her head and the fabric clings to Halen's skin like a second one, then changes her features to that of spunky short-haired brunette. "Just think of someone you'd like to be and the mask will sync with the imagination."

When they enter the hangar area, Halen selects their ship with the best defenses and readies it for deployment. "Captain Iskra, when we arrive at their hold, I plan to give them a rather intimate demonstration of how our kraken detonators work which will hopefully take out a significant number of their forces. With that surprise on our side, I believe that will be our best opening to rescue Verity." While the ship takes off and one of her other women sets up a meeting with Demetria and her gang, she hands Iskra one of the small metallic devices, the aforementioned kraken detonator. "We don't have many of these to spare, but it would be unjust to let you walk into enemy territory with only what you have when your allies have more. Use it wisely, they can only be activated once every 12 hours."

 

[Syntra]

So this, Iskra realized, is princess Halen. Millions of thoughts were whirling inside of her head, enough of them to form constellations, even, but for one reason or another, this emerged as the most prominent one. (Truthfully, the captain hadn't expected her to be like this. She didn't know what she had expected, come to think of it, but perhaps the Halen in her mind had been... well, more princess-y? The kind of woman who wore silks, and wished to be treated with silky gloves, too. Yet another jewel in their queen's crown, to be precise. To her surprise, however, Halen most of all resembled a soldier-- there was no warmth in her gaze, but no real contempt, either. No, what she could find there was cold pragmatism, and that rang so many bells that it appealed to the pirate. Reasonable enemies were good enemies, you know? Not better than dead enemies, granted, but they at least fell into the category Iskra liked to call 'predictable.' If nothing else, her devotion to Verity seems genuine... which means that, as long as we work together to retrieve her, I have nothing to fear. And as for what would happen afterwards? That was a problem for her future self, she supposed.)

"Yes," the pirate nodded, "I won't allow that brute to shatter Verity's dreams. There are things that should only ever be given freely, and Demetria crossed so many lines that it's not even funny. Such disgusting behavior cannot be rewarded. It won't be!" With great gratitude, she received the mask and put it over her face-- her features melted into something non-descript, then, before they finally settled on the form of a raven-haired beauty, with eyes darker than the space between the stars. "A useful trinket," Iskra murmured. "Thank you, princess Halen, for bestowing such a gift upon me. Since Demetria knows our names as well, though, I should think we need new ones for the interaction. Feel free to call me..." Hmm, hmm. What, exactly? And did it even matter? The nature of her disguise probably mattered not, but considering just how much Verity's people believed in the importance of a name's meaning... "Eurydice." Eurydice, which meant 'justice'. Was it not the perfect name for one who came to deliver it? Soon enough, Demetria would learn that, most often, its messengers flew on the steel wings of death! ...and that the victories of scoundrels turned to ashes in their mouths, just as it had happened to Iskra herself.

"You have my thanks for the detonators, too. However, princess Halen, I believe that timing is of essence here. The ship is huge, and we have no way of locating Verity reliably. What if she got hurt in the explosion? No, I... believe we have to approach this problem with finesse, not with the rattle of drawn swords." ...or with the blasts of detonators, Iskra supposed, but that didn't sound nearly as poetic. "I propose infiltrating their vessel-- we may do so under the guise of price negotiations. We'll stay, as long as it takes us to find Verity, and once we manage to isolate her from the others? That's when we show the bastards just how impressive our fireworks can be. What do you think, princess Halen? I'll contact my crew, too, so that they will know when to rush to our help."

That plan, too, was received with approval, and it also seemed that the Shade was on their side-- a golden opportunity emerged, you see, in what Demetria had the gall to call her 'wedding feast'. (Just hearing that made Iskra see red, and her blood? Her blood was boiling in her veins, indeed. Marriage was the most holy of unions, the ultimate expression of love, and to twist it so that it suited Demetria's narrative purposes... ah, gods themselves must have recoiled in horror! Verity was her prisoner, which... which was exactly what she had done to the princess, once upon a time. Oh well. Iskra was used to looking in the mirror and not liking her own reflection, wasn't she? No, I shall not yield to my habits. I will not! Once we speak together again, just me and her, I shall answer this injustice with justice. ...regardless of the form it might take, really. For every grievance she had caused to the princess, Iskra would pay and pay and pay!)

Seduced by the prospect of owning those cutting-edge weapons, the derby girls agreed to the negotiations quite easily-- in truth, however, the pirate didn't think that was their only motivation. And, guess what? Immediately, her suspicions were confirmed.

"But in all seriousness," Demetria smirked as she led them to the table, and it took all of Iskra's self control not to slit her throat there and then, "you chose a real good time to visit. I've picked up a hot piece of ass recently, and I kinda think she deserves some attention, y'know? Don't be shy, ladies. The princess is insatiable, and she'll be honored to make your evening a little more special. Of course," she winked, "I only lend her to friends, so you might wanna reconsider how you approach this little trade of ours." ...wow. Had she-- had she just suggested for them to take advantage of Verity? Them, complete strangers?! By the Shade, and all in the pursuit of a lower price! Iskra hadn't thought this woman could possibly sink lower in her eyes, but with that, Demetria ended up solidly underground. Oh, if only she'd choke on the dirt! "I..." Iskra began, "I shall think about it."

"A lil' agitated, aren't you, Eurydice?" Demetria gave her a playful jab. "Or frustrated, maybe? Verity can help you with that, I'd wager. Her lips were made for--"

Whatever disgusting commentary she meant to provide, it was drowned in music-- a small solace, perhaps, but one Iskra was absurdly thankful for. Such a filthy mouth deserved not to utter Verity's name, much less to weave such scenarios with her in mind! ...the reprieve was short-lived, though, because then the pirate actually saw her. Her, as in the princess. She was dancing, swaying her hips on the stage, and the audience was shouting, shouting, shouting! Shouting obscenities that Iskra didn't wish to repeat, much less imagine, but she couldn't do that even if she wanted to, actually, for her imagination was... hmm, occupied. (The garment Verity wore? It, uh, stimulated her mind in an interesting way. Not much was covered, but the crucial parts remained a mystery, and some depraved part of her imagined what exploring those territories would be like. With her tongue, she would... no. No, bad Iskra! Her eyes would not be clouded with... with whatever this was. Never, for as long as she breathed.)

Not even the mask could prevent the scarlet from staining her cheeks, but that, in turn, couldn't stop her from following her plan. With her head raised high, the pirate headed towards the stage, only to grab the princess's hand-- wordlessly, she then spun her around and dipped her, providing a perfect mirror of what had transpired between them the first time they'd danced together. "Do you recognize me, my guiding star?" she whispered, to the cheers of the onlookers.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

So far, Halen's assessment of Iskra is hesitantly surprised. She had not expected much from this alliance, in fact she more so did it to ensure the captain would not succumb to an untimely fate in that volatile vessel she had found her in. In her mind, she could not fathom Verity being anything short of devastated were she to find out that her current love interest perished. Even if she does not know the nature of their relationship, the exiled's fondness for the captain is apparent. If not for how she regards her, then for how she had abandoned her own people to be with a pirate. A decision she will never understand even if she wanted to––and part of her, maybe, is hurt that Verity would turn her back on Aurora and the Restoration and by extension, Halen herself. (She refuses to see how, in actuality, Verity turned her back on Halen first and the rest followed suit. Either way, she recognizes that her friend has little care for her anymore even if her own devotion has not changed. In some ways, it cannot either. After all, she made a promise to Verity's mothers and eldest sister to watch over her all those years ago. Much, of course, has changed since then and, still, Halen feels responsible for her friend. 'She needs me. She doesn't acknowledge this, but we both know it to be true. In Time, she will return and until then, I will watch from a distance.')

Anyway, she doesn't bother to comment on Iskra's erroneous assumption regarding how the detonators actually work (explosion are pretty antiquated), because she doesn't see it as her business (disregarding the fact that she has just given the pirate one of those nifty bombs). She does, however, see the logic in Iskra's plan. If anything, at least Verity has chosen someone who can think. So she follows along with it, informing the pirate to refer to her as Nova, and though she is uncomfortable with the idea of fraternizing with the enemy, it is best to reserve their forces until they know exactly what they are dealing with and can ensure Verity's safety above all else.

The banquet hall is nothing all too impressive, she notes, as she takes a seat across from Demetria, next to Iskra. She doesn't know much about her opponent just yet and the second she opens her mouth, Halen has already decided that this rat's nest is in dire need of extermination. In a rare moment, Halen finds herself feeling just the same as Iskra with her own blood running hot and were it not for her stone features, it might have bled onto her face as well. 'Remain cool. The moment to strike is close, but it is not now.'

"As fascinating as your hypothesis is, Demetria, I am not here for pleasure... Wait, Eurydice––" and before Halen can even grab Iskra's arm to pull her back into the booth, her eyes follow where the other walks and she is soon full of understanding. Perhaps, more than she'd care to see as she finds it difficult to watch her friend be on full display––even if Verity is full of wanton desire, she at least has more class than this. And just what does Iskra think she is doing? Does she mean to blow this entire operation and get them all sent to the Ether?

***

The costume leaves just enough for the imagination to run wild and Verity can understand why Demetria would want to put her in it––she also understands, somewhere, that this is the punk testing her limits. More than that, exerting her control over Verity and reminding her that everything that happens is on her terms, even in light of the exiled's most recent stunt. Though all these little games, while they irk her, it is not enough for her to falter or back down. There is no need to do that when she knows her Time spent betrothed to this repugnant miscreant will be short lived. Even while she hopes for Iskra to come swiftly, she has already concocted a plan of her own and whether Demetria knows it or not, this little outfit will only help her. Even as she tries to see if she can humiliate Verity by passing her around to all of her women, she manages to keep her mask on and relish in all the attention given to her figure. The suggestion to dance, too, is something she takes in earnest––even if she recognizes the suggestion is but a thinly veiled demand.

Even so, Verity lets none of this degradation get to her. With all eyes on her, she seems to shine and sparkle like a star taking her brilliant first breaths of light, knowing just how to draw out enthusiasm from her audience. It's almost as if she has them under her spell, each swing of her hips hypnotizing the women and reducing them to putty all at once. Maybe she should thank her betrothed for suggesting she entertain these women as she only sees this as another opportunity to weaken her opponents. See, not too long after she has started, the exiled makes a game of her dance, proposing that the audience take drinks each Time she flashes just a bit more of herself. By this point and with luck, they'll all be passed out drunk in a few hours and she'll be able to sneak around to the hangar bay.

She's just about to end her performance when a hand catches her own and spins around and around before dipping her; the change in type of dance surprises Verity, not expecting such grace from any of these classless criminals and curiously she looks at this new partner. "Who––" she starts, before the mysterious woman holding her whispers a single question to answer all of hers. The blush on her cheeks deepens as she looks into those dark eyes, knowing that beneath this skin are those ocean depths that can crumble all her composure. "My dandy lion, of course," she responds, gathering herself and looking at this version of Iskra. Flowers bloom in her chest while her mouth becomes a desert, and she holds onto the pirate just a little tighter before letting her go. 'She came back,' even if the exiled knew that Iskra would, the surprise and relief all come in a welcome package. 'Perhaps, there is still hope for us yet.'

When the cheers of the crowd finally reach her ears, some making requests of what they think Iskra should do to the princess, she clears her throat and steps away from the woman who needs to be a stranger to her. Just before she turns back to the audience, she whispers, "Meet me by the bar." Though she had been planning to end her show just before Iskra made her presence known, she decides to give the women one last performance that encourages at least three more drinks before she announces a brief intermezzo. Hurriedly, though still trying to be casual and gracious to the women who interrupt her beeline, she finds the raven-haired Beauty she knows to be Iskra.

"I had not been expecting guests at my betrothment celebration," she says, careful to not make her familiarity with this supposed stranger obvious. Though with how drunk most of the women are, she doubts her behavior is subject to any suspicion. "If you plan to stay, stranger, know that you have much catching up to do. The women here drink enough to put pirates to shame. ...Though not Demetria, I imagine she is trying to keep her wits for the night's later activities." Silently, she hopes that Iskra understands the meaning between her words regarding the state of their enemies. "Anyway, how do––"

"Eurydice! How'd you like that little dance with my fiancée? Surprised you managed to hold back so much," the blue haired woman interrupts, worming her way in between Verity and Iskra, though she doesn't appear suspicious. "Why don't you give her a little more, hm? She really loves it when hands are on her. Especially here," Demetria then brings Verity into her arms and pulls the top half of her garment lower before pushing her towards Iskra, laughing all the while. "Y'know, I told her I'd be the first to have her tonight, but with what you and Nova are offering... I mean, shit, if you cut your prices in half and let me watch, she's yours for the night. How can you resist that offer?"

 

[Syntra]

Verity recognized her. She did, she did, she did! Ah, such a sweet victory that was-- a victory that the pirate, of course, only treasured thanks to the convenience it brought. ('Iskra', you see, was a dangerous word. To whisper it would be to point at herself, and write her confession in big, neon letters. 'Look at me!' it would have screamed. 'I have come with a dagger hidden under my cloak. My smile is razor-sharp, and with it, I intend to cut you.' Yes, that was right! So what if Verity's utterance of 'dandy lion' also sent a jolt of electricity down her spine, and colored her cheeks red? Iskra was just, um... playing the part of a lovestruck fool. Whose heart wouldn't melt with the princess in her arms, after all? Only the heart of a cold, rotting corpse, indeed. And, really, wasn't that exactly what Iskra was? Move she did, yes, but fallen leaves did, too, and it didn't mean they secretly continued to live! Oh no, no, no. Once death touched you, you know, you belonged to it-- always, always did you hear its voice, transposed against your own. Its echoes rang in your ears, over and over and... and Iskra knew, on some level, that those were memories of her true home. The cold coffin, and the taste of her own blood in her mouth!)

Dazzled, the pirate let go of the princess. Treading carefully was of essence here, wasn't it? Demetria may have offered Verity to her, but surely she would take offence if this dance were to go on-- the punk's heart may have been wicked, but Iskra assumed there were certain... hmm, boundaries. (There was a difference, after all, between treating your wife as a bargaining chip and watching her get seduced by a stranger. Both were about power, you see? Except that, in the first scenario, you held all of it, while you could only watch helplessly in the other. No, they couldn't afford to anger Demetria now! If they played their cards right, perhaps Iskra could... perhaps Iskra could open Demeria's belly, and choke her with her own intestines. Just!!! What was she doing?!)

That question, however, didn't need to be asked. Weren't her intentions obvious, after all? The punk may not have said it outright, but in the language of lowlives, she'd been shouting it from the rooftops-- in her mind, to put it plainly, Verity was hers, in the same way this ship or her sword was. Hers to treat however she liked, really. (A concubine more than a wife, a trophy more than a person. A foregone conclusion, wasn't it? The wretch had wanted her before she'd even set her sights on her, dazzled by her title. She'd demanded 'a princess,' just like other women might demand a dagger made from twice folded steel or soup without mushrooms. Disgusting! Verity was worth so much more than that, more than silks or pretty robes or the promise of a crown, and this rat, in her small-mindedness, refused to see that. How? How could anyone gaze upon the princess, and think otherwise? The weight of her foolishness was so enormous, indeed, that Iskra wondered how it hadn't crushed her yet. ...still, though. As infuriating as it was? Even a corpse served its purpose in feeding worms, and in the same way, the pirate saw a purpose in Demetria's lechery.)

"Why," she forced herself to smile, "I merely do not wish to shame myself, Demetria. Never would I dare to touch another woman's property! Where I come from, dishonor is worse than death. Since you're offering, though... damn, as if I could say no." With a smirk, Iskra shook her head. "You do know how to strike up a bargain, not gonna lie. But..." she put her arm around Verity's shoulders, "you aren't expecting me to be able to wait now, are you? I cannot wait to make the princess scream."

"Eager, aren't you?" Demetria chuckled. "Shit, I don't know, Eurydice. Her performance has been quite the hit! What would I say to my women, hmmm?" 'That they should fall on their own sword,' Iskra almost said, but managed to stop herself before those words left her lips. (Just, how to convince her? This was such a prime opportunity! It didn't happen every day that you got to separate a captain from her crew like that, and...)

"Nova shall entertain them in her," Iskra blurted out, seized by a fit of madness. "And, Demetria, if you need another reason, I may let you do more than watch. The princess will be yours forever, but me? I'm only here for one night. Don't you want to... hmm, get to know me as well? On the most intimate level." (The way she managed to say this? Iskra even surprised herself, really-- not a single stutter marred her speech, nor did she her face resemble a tomato. Perhaps because this wasn't real? Yes, most likely! None of this would happen, so it was like... like re-enacting an ancient battle from the old chronicles, while knowing full well your weapons were made of plastic.)

"Ah, damn," the punk groaned and combed her hair with her fingers. "Had I known negotiations could be this fucking fun, I would have participated more often. This sure as fuck beats destroying enemy ships! Alright, fine, lead the way. You two go first, though. I wanna get some inspiration, you feel me?"

Except that, the moment the door of what she presumed was their bedroom closed behind them, Iskra's hands were on her throat. "Inspiration, huh?" she spat out as Demetria's eyes bulged. "Let me inspire you, then." Gasping for air, the punk tried to push her away, but the thing about the lack of oxygen? It made you weak, so the attempt seemed laughable more than anything else. Desperate, like a fly that struggled in a spider's web! "Verity," she said, while watching calmly as the punk's lips grew as blue as her hair, "how do you want me to kill her? Would you still like her head, or shall I give you her treacherous heart?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Everything the punk does sets Verity's blood on fire, so much so she worries about transforming into a volcano and burying this entire ship in clouds of ash and yet if there is one thing the princess has trained herself in, it's restraint. While admittedly out of practice since her exile, it had been an important tactic to employ when surrounded by untrustworthy friendly faces. Keeping peace is what she knew best and remembering not to fuss now, she realizes, is important lest she draw too much attention to them all while surrounded by so many of Demetria's gang of women. (The exiled also remembers the last Time she murdered a captain in front of her crew and how poorly that had turned out. Had she had more forethought back then, she would have waited for a more private opportunity. Or she would have had an exit strategy already on hand. At the moment, with Demetria, she has neither of those––though at least she knows she has Iskra here as well as Halen (for only the other princess would assume the name of Nova, her ancestor and former queen).) Demetria may not realize how proud Verity truly is while she pretends to play along with these little games, but each Time she pushes the exiled's boundaries and attempts to humiliate her that is but another strike against giving her any ounce of mercy. Especially with the knowledge that she is not even this woman's first wife and since she has seen no other wives, she doesn't believe that Demetria has a harem but a graveyard.

While the punk may have aimed to make Verity uncomfortable by tossing her towards Iskra like one might a used towel, what she'll probably only realize once it is too late is that being closer to the disguised pirate only makes her feel safer. She has to even resist noticeably leaning into the captain when she places her arm around her shoulder. (She also has to resist the direction her mind wants to pull her towards as Iskra, surprisingly, manages to keep her face about her while propositioning herself as well. Though Verity's mind doesn't really want to imagine a third party getting in between them, that the captain can even make this suggestion without faltering is enough for Verity's imagination to make some adjustments and hear exactly what she wishes the pirate would say to her. Not that she minds how flustered she used to get around her. But she does, perhaps, wonder why this could not have been Iskra's manner the last Time she had the princess stripped down to bare essentials.)

Though she does not know exactly what Iskra is planning, it is not difficult to guess that this night will not end in throes of passion and pleasure. She imagines they are leading this woman to her execution. After all, that is what the pirate had promised her only hours ago when the punk decided to drag her honor through the mud as if she has no dignity at all. And, perhaps, the exiled does want Vengeance––not just for herself, but for the poor wives who had come before her. This woman must pay for her crimes and there is no mercy in her heart for common scoundrels.

When Iskra wastes not even a second to attack Demetria, it takes Verity at least three to figure out what has happened. She spins around and while her eyes are wide with shock, she eventually settles into a smirk and steps behind Iskra. Realization and understanding fill Demetria's gaze, along with anger and surprise, and the exiled finds some semblance of satisfaction in that; in knowing that her enemy has realized her folly and there is no escaping the chains of fate now. How stupid she must feel stepping away from the protection of a crowd. Verity steps close to Iskra, resting her hand on her shoulder as she tilts her head to the side as she contemplates how Justice will be honored. "Take off your mask, my dandy lion. I want her to know who is crumbling her empire tonight. That, I think, is a kindness I am willing to give her."

Unfortunately that is where the princess's kindness ends. Were she filled with any ounce of pity for this punk, she might have allowed her to succumb quietly to poison, but Verity does not believe the woman has earned peace. "She deserves no mercy, however, and I ask you to not only deliver a Death worthy of her crimes against me, but for those wives before me as well. As I cannot imagine they were given a treatment any better than my own for rot only spreads and grows more wicked the longer is goes unaddressed." Her eyes burn holes through Demetria's skull as she watches the wretched woman claw at Iskra's hands. Though Verity has had qualms with the Sacred Sages that guide her people now, namely Vengeance and Violence, she is beginning to understand the lessons they have to impart upon descendants. "I care not whether I get her disgusting head or putrid heart, I only wish for her end to be full of the suffering she has earned. Pain is a great teacher and perhaps her next Life can make use of this final lesson."

 

[Syntra]

Silently, with the trajectory of a feather, the mask fell on the ground-- immediately, the punk's eyes widened in recognition, but it was late, oh, too late! "Yes," Iskra smirked, "it's me. Surely you remember who I am, Demetria? Despair not if you don't, though. After all the wonders I'm going to show you, my face will be burned into your brain." The human mind, you see, was a funny thing! As distant from an impartial recording device as a puddle was distant from a sea, or perhaps a spark from a fiery inferno. No, if you wanted to grasp how it worked, you ought to compare it to a planet-- lush and green, teeming with flowers. A whole ocean of them grew there, and the colors? Bright they were, indeed, enough to dazzle you if your eyes lingered on any given spot for too long! So, how did you attract a person's attention where you wanted it to be when their memory was drowning in details already? Why, you only had to carve it deeper, deeper, deeper into the subject's skin. Deep enough to reach the bone, really, and watch it shatter under the pressure. (In that art, the Holy Vessel had trained her well. And why not? 'Bodyguard' or 'torturer,' 'agony' or 'pleasure'-- all of those could be synonymous, indeed, when those who claimed otherwise had their tongues cut out. ...no, that contradiction had never become real, per se. Just like a blue butterfly wouldn't turn into a red one because someone said so, a lie wouldn't emerge out of some metaphorical cocoon clad in a cloak of truth! Many had believed it, though, which was the next best thing. Warp the perception, Iskra thought, and the rest will follow. The mind will poison the body.)

So, Verity demanded pain for her, huh? Ah yes, yes! That you reaped what you sowed was one of the universal truths, and Demetria, you see, was just asking to be paid back in blood. (A monster Iskra may have been, yes, but sometimes, a monster was exactly what you needed. Those claws, sharp enough to cut a person in half? Some people deserved that fate, and those with gentle hands could never deliver it. Oh no, no, no! Justice wasn't a blind woman-- justice was a woman who looked, and who saw, and who, after careful deliberation, released the bloodhound. And Iskra? In that scenario, Iskra was the dog, eager to taste blood once again! ...slipping back into her old role was frighteningly easy, truly.) "Very well, princess. Now, look at me, Demetria!" The punk complied, mostly because she had no other choice, and the captain smiled. (It wasn't a pretty smile, though. In it, you could see a wolf ready to tear her prey apart, or maybe a viper about to strike.) "Don't you dare to avert your gaze. I want you to understand what is happening, and why that is. Keep that cause and consequence relationship in your mind, because if I notice you trying to retreat? I'll bring you back, in ways so painful your imagination can't even grasp it." And, afterwards? Afterwards, Iskra pressed her hand against her nose-- Demetria gasped, then, which provided her with the chance to spray something into her mouth. (That something, of course, was a numbing substance. 'The Kiss of Silence,' the Holy Vessel had called it, which Iskra had to admit it was rather apt. Once you came in contact with it? Your very voice was stolen, and even the most blood-curdling of screams turned into quiet rasps.)

A convenient feature, really! Especially since, with a few practiced movements, Iskra proceeded to break her limbs. (There were several cracks, loud and horrible, as well as a desperate plea in Demetria's eyes, except that... no. No, Iskra had to steel her heart! Now the wretched woman was begging, begging for her worthless life, but back when she'd thought she was in control? Oh, the song she had sung was very different-- a symphony of betrayal and filthy promises, and had she not come, Iskra didn't doubt she would have fulfilled them all. Verity would have... would have... no, even imagining her in the clutches of those pigs was far too much!)

With her body a broken heap on the floor, the captain approached Demetria's bed-- the blanket was made of silk, which was, again, awfully convenient. The material felt pleasant against one's skin, but there was also great strength hidden within, you know? So, you could rely on it when it came to supporting great weights... such as, for example, future corpses. Swiftly, with the finesse of someone who had done something like this before, the blanket changed into an improvised rope in her hands. "I don't assume you need your trophy immediately, do you, Verity?" Iskra turned to her before fastening the rope to the ceiling. "Both the head and the heart, you see, would be the easy way out! And since we still need to explore this ship... well, I think we can afford to grant this scoundrel some time to contemplate her sins. Who knows? Perhaps she'll atone." Wordlessly, Demetria cried in agony, but the pirate? The pirate cared not for her suffering. The silky rope ended up wrapped around her wrists, and then she was suddenly hanging in the air, with only her broken arms carrying her weight! "Heavy, are you not?" Iskra smiled. "Savor that feeling, my friend, for it is a beast of your own creation. Had you not committee countless filthy deeds, you wouldn't have needed to answer for them in this way. We all have to accept responsibility, in one way or another." This set-up was still far from deadly, though-- easily, someone could enter their captain's bedroom, and save her from this fate. ...which, no, not on her watch! With great gusto, Iskra grabbed Demetria's sword, and plunged it into her stomach. (Again, there was a gross, wet sound. Blood rushed from the wound, too, red like rubies, and the familiar metallic scent filled her nostrils, but the feeling that spread through her chest? Oh, that could only ever be called satisfaction.)

"She'll die," the pirate announced to Verity, "but not very quickly. Every second will be... hmm, a new memory for her to make. With that out of the way," she slipped out of her coat and handed it to the princess, "feel free to cover yourself. I can't believe she'd make you wear something like this! Truly, some people have no manners." Not that Iskra didn't enjoy the sight, mind you, but certain things should only ever be given freely, and no, she wasn't going to feast on the fruits of Demetria's lechery. "Now, do you know where the control room is?" They still had to figure out where Inure was located, after all, and... hmm. Was it just her, or did she really hear moaning? Wailing, perhaps? It was coming from somewhere underneath them, unless she was dreaming a waking dream, which... Ah. A trap door, hidden under the carpet! With a frown, Iskra opened it, only for a small, dark room to be revealed.

A small, dark room which was full of women, dressed in tatters that made Verity's outfit look modest. And, judging by how thin they were? Iskra would wager they hadn't eaten properly for days. "Ah! Please, don't beat us," one of them dared to exclaim, her eyes wide with fear. "We'll be good and quiet. Please."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

While Iskra works, Verity watches. Though not with admiration or disgust, but something that appears neutral and it's difficult to discern what is going through the princess's mind. Maybe wearing that same steel she wore when subject to the bloodshed, Violence, war and all the other things that have ravaged the country she thought she could change once upon a Time. The steel that makes her appear stronger than she is, more unaffected than she is, that allows her to hold onto what she believes a princess should embody when watching the punishment that had been cast by her lips. Because, yes, since this is what she had asked, she cannot look away or flinch as Demetria's bones are snapped and the crack fills up this cursed bedroom. Perhaps the only saving grace is whatever Iskra had sprayed into that woman's mouth, because at least the princess does not have to hear those cries of agony; ones she is certain she would not be able to stomach. ("Did you hear that scream? It was so divine I nearly let her get away from me," the queen had once remarked, after a gladiator match she had invited Verity to sometime at the height of their affair.)

Her eyes flicker between Demetria and Iskra, memorizing the twists of agony screwed onto the punk's face while whispers of wouldbe screams escape her lips. Briefly, the punk looks at Verity, her eyes pleading and maybe thinking she might be able to win a princess's sympathy but the princess does not respond. Instead, she looks towards Iskra and traces that predator smile on her lips that screams danger; it's one she does not think she has seen before and, deep within herself, she knows the look scares her though she is not scared of the pirate. Iskra is merely doing what Verity would never be able to do and she is doing exactly as she had been asked. The princess, of course, is not all too surprised by this show given the brief glimpses she has seen of the pirate's memories. They were nothing short of gruesome, so that she can produce this level of sadistic Violence is but a confirmation of what Verity had already assumed. Though, unlike the last Time she had been exposed to this side of Iskra, she does recoil in disgust. This is what Demetria deserves. For threatening Inure, for her lack of basic respect, and for those wives Verity has yet to see or no anything about. This deliverance, she imagines, is between those blurry lines of Justice and Vengeance.

As the woman is left hanging by her broken limbs and Iskra finishes up the last of her handiwork, Verity finally moves from her spot near the bed and looks up at the dying woman. "May clarity come to you, Demetria, and may it be so staggering you are left blind in your next Life." Verity's words are sincere, too, for she would not want this suffering to be without reason. Does everyone not deserve the chance to learn? Even if in another Life?

Gratefully, she takes the captain's coat and pulls it over herself, relishing in the traces of Iskra's warmth and even slyly pressing her nose against the collar to inhale one of her favorite fragrances. A light blush also colors her cheeks when she realizes what she is doing and she tries to make her action appear innocuous. Like she had been meaning to rub her nose with her shoulder or something less embarrassing than what she had done. Oh, well, she guesses. At least she is saved from needing to explain herself by the task at hand, one she is far more excited for than punishing her betrothed. "Yes, some of the women informed me it's––"

However, before Verity can finish her thought, she hears the same wimpers coming through the floorboards and her expression mirrors that of her companion. When the trap door is opened, revealing those women, the princess gasps in abject horror. "My word, Iskra... She––she beat them, her own wives," she mumbles, getting onto her knees to get closer to the women, women who she has assumed are the missing wives. Her stomach twists and churns at the sight, nearly causing her to feel ill but she swallows her revolusion and looks at each of the wives, letting their state inform the fury coursing through her veins. "Demetria and her women will harm you no longer. We mean you no harm either," she announces, stretching out her hand as an offer of help. "I was betrothed to that monster, but my... my companion over here came to save me. Now we'll save you too for no one deserves to be locked away. Take my hand, you'll see that you are safe now."

"B-but what about the crew? They're just as nasty... and the last time––" one woman starts before bursting into a fit of tears.

"Worry not of the others, we are taking care of them too," or she assumes that they will. (Even without the woman's claim that the crew is as nasty as their captain, Verity has already surmised as much based on her own interactions with them throughout the evening. A gang of dishonorable women; women who have far too much Power for their own heads to remain secure. No, they cannot be allowed to live and elect a new bastard to their throne. Some enemies, there is no hope for rehabilitation and thus they must be vanquished. If only she had learned this lesson earlier, when eliminating that one enemy could have saved her people.) Verity moves to the side, allowing Demetria's broken body to come into view for the other women, "See, Demetria is no longer a threat to you all and you can trust we are working to get rid of the rest of this filth. However, the choice to leave is your own, of course. Just know you will not be subject to the hands of the derby girls any longer."

The sight of their captor hanging uselessly from the ceiling seems to be enough to encourage a couple of the women to shuffle forward and poke their head through the opening. With wide eyes, as if in a trance, they reach for Verity's hand and are lifted out of their prison. Tentatively, one of the women looks up at her tormentor, her fear melting into wrath and a second later she launches a fist into Demetria's belly, just under where the sword is lodged. The punk thrashes, tears sting down her eyes, but no sound leaves her lips. The woman, not satisfied, decides to land more blows and specifically targets the punk's mangled limbs. The other woman also joins in, though there seems to be more red Vengeance burning in her eyes; she goes for a pair of shears resting on the nightstand and cuts a straight line down the back of Demetria's shirt to expose her back. She then takes one of the whips that lines the bedroom walls and delivers a series of blows. Helplessly, Demetria's body swings with each lash, though that doesn't seem to offer her any reprieve. As this onslaught continues and the sound of blows fill the air, more of the wives to crawl out of the hidden room and encouraged by the two women before them, the rest join in on the action. One, much to Verity's own discomfort, rips the piercings from the punk's face and with how much blood flows from the injuries––the dastardly punk likely does not have much Time left. Perhaps not the slow drawn out Death Iskra had intended, but somehow this fills just as Just.

Deciding she has seen enough, Verity turns towards Iskra, "I reason that Demetria is being taken care of, so we ought to head to the control room, no?" Without waiting, the princess grabs a sword from the punk's display and dashes into the hallway. She does not concern herself with the location of the other crew members as she knows the vast majority of them, if not all of them, are still below deck and are too drunk to be a real threat. In fact, the ship is quiet as they rush through it and into the control room. Once there, Verity toggles with the different maps of the demolition yard until she finds Inure's location. "Inure is in Lot 2293. We just need to––"

"Need to what?" Lyria asks, suddenly appearing from behind with a small group of six women soon filing into the room. "What're you doing up here, princess? Shouldn't you be entertaining the crew? Or were you and your friend sent up here to give the control room a private show, hm?"

 

[Syntra]

Disgust ran through Iskra, in the same way a hot knife ran through butter. Just, the depths of depravity! How could a woman sink so low? The pirate was no stranger to violence, obviously, so far was it from her to condemn Demetria for relishing in it, but... damn. You didn't wield a sword this thoughtlessly! Or a whip, or even your own fists, or whatever it was she'd used against these women when her anger had flared. Weapons had been forged for battle, not for punishing one's spouse, and seeing the hollow eyes of the wives? Oh, Iskra could tell that they were soldiers of a kind, too-- soldiers for whom their entire lives were a battlefield, and thus didn't know a day of peace. (She understood, perhaps more than she would have liked to. It was surreal, you know? Spending most of your life in the darkness, crouching so that you made a small target, and then, then suddenly being dragged into the light. Your skin remembered, yes, but your eyes did, too! And freedom could be so dazzling, indeed, that it blinded you if you were to look at it directly. ...even now, it sometimes felt as if the Holy Vessel's shadow was still hovering over her, and about to touch her shoulder with its ghostly fingers. 'Look back, Iskra,' she sang. 'Look back, and face who you are. No, face what you are. Don't you miss me, hmm? It's not too late, my faithful servant. All you need to do is--' No. No, her mind couldn't go there, for that was an abyss she wouldn't manage to crawl out of. Wouldn't, wouldn't, wouldn't!) "You're safe now," she confirmed, hoping it would alleviate some of their fears, at the very least. (The wounds Demetria had inflicted upon them, and covered in salt? No, Iskra couldn't heal them. Unfair it was, but they had to do the heavy lifting on their own-- much like a bird whose wing had been broken, and had to relearn how to fly all over again. What she could do, however, was to provide some bandages! Bandages, and a safe environment for them to thrive.)

...sometimes, however, you had to draw a thin line between yourself and the past you were running away from before any thriving could happen. Why not draw it in blood, then? The liquid contained life, you see, and it was only fair for them to take back from Demetria that which she had stolen! To reclaim their identity, really, and decide that, no, they weren't ending the relationship as victims. "Good for them," Iskra said, not even flinching when her piercings were torn off. "And good for her, too. That there are consequences to each action is a valuable lesson! Perhaps, if her wretched soul is granted the gift of new life, she'll remember it, and treat others in the same way she would want to be treated. Have fun, ladies. But, oh! When you're done with her, could you please not leave the room? We still need to take care of the crew, and I imagine run-ins with them could be... hmm, unpleasant for you. We shall let you know once the ship is safe." Inure, though. Was Inure safe? The brute may have butchered her, sold her for parts, and the guilt sat heavy in Iskra's stomach. Had she not gotten captured, you see, this wouldn't have happened at all! Even now, she would have been listening to her quiet humming, and swimming through this ocean of stars.

"Right. We'll locate her, and then we'll contact my crew. By the Shade, I just hope they didn't hurt her. If they did... oh, I swear I'll learn exorcism just so I could summon Demetria's ghost and kill her again." Among Iskra's people, you didn't joke about these things lightly, mostly because the effects of magic were felt keenly even by the last pawn on the chessboard of their lives-- except that, you know, Iskra wasn't joking. No, this seemed entirely reasonable to the pirate. If your sins were grave enough, after all, how could you hope to pay for them in your life alone? The deaths of thousands couldn't be measured against a single soul! (...she, too, was still waiting for her punishment. Regardless of the shape it would assume, Iskra would give herself to it, for she had nothing else to offer. And that it wouldn't be enough? It would be something, at the very least, and that filled her with a strange sense of calm.)

That calm, as it turned out, was merely a calm before the storm. Ah, by the Shade! Why couldn't anything ever go smoothly? "Shouldn't you be getting drunk with the others?" Iskra quipped, deciding that the time for excuses had passed. (No, there was no way they'd believe they were setting up 'a private show' for nobody at all. Foolish they may have been, but not stupid!) "All the good wine will be gone be the time you're done with your preparations, and then you'll have to get drunk on motor oil. Not a pleasant experience, as you can imagine." Once again, the pirate and the princess ended up pressed against one another, back to back, and Iskra was clasping her sword...!

Lyria, however? Lyria laughed. "Man, I knew you had fire in you, princess. This is going to be so much fun! Sadly for you, I do insist on tasting you. Before that happens, though..." she licked her lips, "I suppose we can enjoy a little intermezzo together. How would you like to kill your adorable little friend here, Verity? I think that would make me so, so wild." One of her women stepped forward, then, and Lyria-- Lyria proceeded to snap her neck? Alright! Iskra hadn't thought there was a lot of room left for her to ever experience genuine surprise again, but here they were. What was the tactical advantage in... oh. Now she got it, sort of. The woman pulled something out of her limp body-- a thread, faintly glowing, like a distant memory of a star. And, before they could do anything? The thread ended up connected to Verity's arm! "C'mon, princess. Obey. If you're good to me, you'll even get a reward!"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

'Lyria,' of course. Verity hasn't gotten to know the woman well, or any of the women aboard this vessel for that matter, but Lyria is one she should have been keeping eyes on. If only because she seems to be as dangerous as Demetria––perhaps her right hand or, if they are so unlucky, the brain behind this entire operation. However, worries such as those do nothing to help the exiled now. For thanks to her oversight, they have a new mess to clean and she can only hope that the arrival of these women does not mean that more are to follow. After all, Iskra and Verity had abandoned Halen down below and, well, the exiled isn't confident in the other princess's ability to entertain a crowd––even a crowd drunk on an excess of wine and Desire. (Making nice with the people was not exactly Halen's strong suit when they had been learning the ropes of public servitude and Verity cannot imagined that it has improved while isolated on a ship drifting through space.) 'Sages, we should not have split up––I pray that Halen is safe from harm.' Though a silent prayer is all she can offer to her friend, as her focus creates a world in which only the control room and its occupants exist.

With her back pressed against Iskra's, she feels a wave of calm wash over her––one that allows her to see a path to Victory and way out of this mess alive, with both of them intact. No, there will be no Deaths in their party because even if they are outnumbered she has faith in both their skill to reasonably take on this gang of women. The odds do not seem so stacked against them. "It is awfully rude to leave a party early, Lyria––I mean, perhaps not where you hail from, but it is customary to stay at the ball until your eyes no longer have the strength to stay open," she jabs, deciding there is no reason to pay any mind to the fact that they both are also away from the party.

Either way, Lyria does not appear impressed with anything either of them have to say and instead continues to threaten Verity. As if Verity has not already been saved. True, she is not off this ship yet and thus she probably should not get too far ahead of herself and with Iskra here, she just does not see an outcome that ends in their demise. Perhaps she has too much confidence in their combined abilities or she is drunk on the possible story this will be created if they truly do come out unscathed. Either way, the words only add fuel to the flames and Verity, this Time, allows her fire to show. There is no need for her mask anymore. Which also means that her astonishment is plainly written in her eyes when Lyria suggests that Verity kill Iskra––as if she knows the threads of history that have been spun between herself and her companion. "How dare you ask that of me––my loyalties are not some flimsy blade of grass that will bend to the wind that howls the loudest!" though despite her strong words, her voice gives way to guilt, knowing that her loyalties must seem that way to Iskra or even Halen (and even to herself, really). Knowing, too, that she has betrayed Iskra before and even if she will not betray her again, the prickle of Fear that the pirate may assume Verity is not true to her... Oh, well that's enough for her to raise her sword and pivot towards Lyria––

––Lyria who is snapping the neck of one of her own women and before Verity can even process her shock, she feels something take over her own arm that stops her sword from striking her target. As if someone has pressed pause on Verity's image, the princess remains frozen as she resists whatever poison is crawling into her mind from the thread connected to her arm. Her wide eyes meet with Lyria's gaze and the other woman smiles cruelly down at Verity––clearly certain that the princess will bow to her whims. "No. No, no, no––" she mutters, trying to release the sword in her right hand but her fist refuses to obey her command and instead, the arm jerks her around until she's facing Iskra.

Horrified, the exiled tries to back herself away from the pirate, tries to keep her distance, but her arm, like an excited dog, keeps tugging on her arm with such force she is almost certain that it will tear itself away from her body. "Argh!" she cries, closing her eyes tightly as she tries to regain control over her body, her left hand tangling into her hair while her knees buckle under her.

"Oh, please, princess––quit resisting, you'll have a lot more fun if you just listen and obey," Lyria says, pulling Verity back to her feet and shoving her towards the pirate. "Just kill the rat for me and I'll show you a good fucking time."

The exiled falls forward, grabbing her traitorous arm as she is launched towards the pirate. "Iskra––Iskra, please, get out of here––" she begs as their swords collide. "I don't want to kill you!" The phantom smell of blood begins to fill her nose as memories of murdering Iskra pool into her mind, as images of Iskra dying in her arms only days ago flood her––no! This is not what she wants and yet she can do nothing to stop herself from attacking the captain or escaping the scenes of her dying. Tears stream down her cheeks as she fights with herself, a mixture of her own stress and Fear. While she cannot seem to gather enough strength to fight her own arm, she does try to give the pirate openings to knock her sword from her hand. 'Please, please run––or strike me down first! I know you can,' her eyes all but beg.

"I can tell that you're not giving it your all––don't make me get inside of your head!" From behind, Verity can hear another woman's neck snap and another thread attaches itself to her left arm, forcing the exiled to attack her companion with more fervor than before.

 

[Syntra]

Verity, a blade of grass? No, more than that, the princess was a diamond-- beautiful, enough that it shone brighter than the stars hanging in the sky, also but sharp enough to cut glass! No, mere words wouldn't sway the princess. No matter how much the storm around her raged, she'd stand proud, for the head that wore a crown wasn't used to bowing. ...still, at the same time, diamonds, too, could be broken. How not? Eternity was a concept of fairytales, as decay was life's most faithful companion-- the other face of evolution, really, even if it often remained shrouded in the darkness. (In order for something new to be born, you see, the old thing had to die. The death of bodies, the death of thoughts, or the death of ideologies? All of those paved the way to change! And the universe didn't just walk forward, mind you. No, it ran, obsessed with the next shiny thing, and... and all changed, in other words. Nothing ever remained a constant! Not even a corpse that rested in its coffin, indeed, for the grave worms breathed a new life into its dead flesh.)

Realizing all of that years ago had made the pirate accept the reality of expecting the unexpected-- those who hadn't done that made for easy victims, and Iskra had had enough of that status. So, when Lyria had asked Verity to kill her? Some part of pirate believed that, yes, the princess would actually do it. (Doubting her loyalties, of course, had nothing to do with that. As foolish as it probably was, she trusted the princess, you see? Over and over, Verity had been granted opportunities to kill her, and yet she hadn't broken a single strand of her hair! No, thinking that Verity would turn against her because an enemy asked her to would be the peak foolishness-- much like coming to the conclusion that it was reasonable for a wolf to attack a member of their own pack just to please a hunter. At the same time, though? Unless this Lyria had lost her mind, there must have been some underlying logic in her statement. Generally, people didn't enjoy making complete fools out of themselves!)

...and, sadly, the pirate's analysis was spot on. What on earth...? With her eyes wide, Iskra could only watch as Verity was being stolen-- stolen from herself, really, and used as a marionette. (A marionette or a robot, cold and unfeeling. Ah, how wretched Demetria's crew was! Not even the Holy Vessel had violated her autonomy in this way, even if she likely could have, and... oh, the pirate's blood turned into lava, alright. Nobody had the right to treat another like a thing to be controlled! Especially not Verity, who soared so high unless you locked her behind bars.)

Clank! Steel clashed with steel, and easily, Iskra countered her strike. "Run away?" the pirate asked, her tone incredulous. (Judging by the way she spoke, one might have guessed that Verity had just asked her to slit her own wrists, or perhaps to donate Inure to charity! Such were the depths of her confusion, indeed.) "Run away, and then what? Are you suggesting for me to abandon you, princess? If you recall," she dodged another blow, "I've made a promise to you. Beneath the stars who looked down in witness, I swore the oath that I, captain Iskra, would free you. Now, you remaining stuck on this godforsaken ship would hardly fulfil that promise, would it? Do not insult me like that, Verity. My word is worth more than the breath it was said with!" Because, after all the vulgar things Lyria had threatened? No, there was no way Iskra was allowing her to slip into her clutches! (...Demetria's fate, too, had to be considered. She didn't dare to guess what kind of relationship there had been between the women, but somehow, the pirate doubted that the sight of her mangled corpse would please her. And what did that mean? Why, that Verity would receive the punishment for them both! Which, never. Not on her watch, at the very least. As long as a miniscule chance of her breaking Lyria's hold over her existed, then Iskra would stand by her side, and do everything in her power to secure that outcome. Even if she had to pay with her own blood! ...she'd spilled it so, so many times before, after all. Why not do it for something she believed in for a change, huh? For someone who... someone who... No, no label was powerful enough to capture Verity's essence, it seemed. Trying to find one would be like hoping to discover the one perfect snowflake, or perhaps the world's most beautiful flower. In the sea of beauty, such tasks were both empty and presumptuous in nature!)

"Yes, yes!" Lyria laughed and clapped. "Fight, you two. There is nothing quite as aesthetic as battle, don't you think? I don't know what it is about the dance of death that fascinates me so, but oh, I've never seen anything as eye-catching before. So, dance for me, my little puppets! Dance, and die, and suffer. The winner will receive the sweetest of prizes, that I can guarantee."

Iskra, however? Iskra could guarantee something else entirely. Nothing was constant, after all, and Lyria was going to learn the true meaning of the phrase! The threads. The threads are the key. They must be. Now, if I can just... Elegantly, the pirate jumped, and ended up in just the right position to strike...! Which she did, except that she cut those cursed strings instead of the princess's flesh. "Now, Verity. Seize your freedom, if you can! Show that wicked woman why, exactly, you cannot rely on the subservience of others." Because people, you see, weren't toys. Many had been unable to grasp the concept, but it was kinda Iskra's personal tradition to see to it that they'd lose their heads, and weren't traditions oh so important? Whole civilizations rested on their shoulders, after all.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

This is not how Verity ever expected her own engagement celebration to end—granted the entirety of this ordeal from the celebration itself, to the engagement, down to her fiancée were not what she had anticipated on what should have been a joyous occasion. No, oddly enough the princess had never thought she would be forced to entertain her guest dressed in a poor excuse for clothing, be subject to their vuglar comments, endure wandering hands—and she never would have guessed that all would lead to her companion coming to find her, rescue her, and avenge her honor! Truly, Verity had not known how this night would have unfolded so to say that she’s surprised that she’s been strung up like a marionette and used as a weapon against her savior? Perhaps she should have seen that coming given that the pattern of events so far has informed her to ready herself for any (im)possibility.

None that any of that helps the exiled cope with the blows that continue to rain down on Iskra—even if she knows the pirate can hold her own, especially against Verity, she does not want to be responsible for any harm that could come to her. So, yes, she wants the pirate to flee and she doesn’t care about the Consequences for herself, because the pirate must continue to live all the lives that she’ll have and Verity has already more or less tossed hers away. She believes that as her truth with how many she has turned her back on—stretching from the queen to her crew of smugglers. A snake like her does not get a fairytale ending even if earlier she had fooled herself with such fantasies.

“Iskra—“ ‘worry not about your promise! Just save yourself,’ she almost says, but stops. Not because of Lyria or any of her nasty tricks, but because she realizes how insulting that would be to say to the most honorable captain and she has already insulted her enough. If Iskra wants to risk one of her lives to fulfill her promise, then Verity cannot stop her and asking her to do so would only leave them both frustrated. And maybe she is glad the pirate is committed to seeing this through because it helps her feel less alone. She nods and continues with the fight she cannot help, watching helplessly like a passenger in her own body. ‘At least, even at my best, the pirate could always beat me,’ and she finds comfort in knowing Lyria chose the less skilled puppet to toy with.

As soon as her strings are cut, Verity pivots towards the real enemy with the fire of ten thousand angry suns burning in her eyes. Her skin practically steams with how hot her blood is and some might say her emerald eyes have caught glimmers of orange sparks. “Lyria,” she sneers, beginning to shake the coat from her shoulders and, oh, while the derby girl might think she’s about to get some anger crazed show—given her aroused disbelief plain on her face—Verity has another trick in mind. As the coat drops to floor, spikes then punch through the exiled’s skin, covering her in a deadly armor. “Why don’t you fight me yourself? Or have you no honor left?”

“What the—“ Lyria begins before shaking her head out of her stunned state and then looking at the princess with renewed interest. “—well, I guess this wouldn’t be the first time I fought a bitch to put her in her place.”

Their dance, unsurprisingly, does not sing with steel or have any elegance of well Timed movements. Though Lyria draws her sword, Verity hardly relies on hers, instead trying to get in close to jam her poisoned knuckles into this punk’s face. (Where she usually would not hesitate in shooting her spikes from her body, she doesn’t want to accidentally harm Iskra—even if somehow immune to her poison, she cannot imagine having a piece of bone stuck in your face is all that pleasant of an experience. So, yes, she’ll play it safe for now.) Tired as she is, her rage seems to be fuel enough to keep her going; enough that she is able to get in close, sweep Lyria’s blade from her hand, and—

—and just when her poison fist should have connected, her hand swings through the nothing instead, at an opponent who has disappeared. “Sages! Where’d she go?!” the exiled exclaims, spinning around the room but seeing no one else beside Iskra and the remaining lackeys Lyria left behind in her bizarre escape. Lackeys who must decide that if their boss is leaving, they ought to step in her place and raise their swords. Laughable, really, and Verity rolls her eyes in a presumably arrogant way but really she just not have the energy to expend on waste. “Iskra, allow me to take care of them. Take cover if you can,” she says, wishing she had thought of the warning earlier during her brief spar with Lyria. (Then maybe she wouldn’t have gotten away—ah, well, somehow Verity imagines they’ll run into her again wherever she went to hide.) Rather predictably, the women circle in on Verity, not considering that her warning may as well been for them as well, because in a manner of seconds the spikes in Verity’s arms and back shoot out of her skin and lodge into her assailants.

Three... two... one...

And the women all fall to the ground with the same grace as sacks of potatoes. Though not satisfied since Lyria escaped, she turns towards Iskra and is at least happy she’s no longer under attack. “Iskra, are you alright? I did not want harm to come to you,” she says, her voice quiet and perhaps even tinged with guilt. Even if it had not been her fault that she had attacked Iskra earlier, it reminded her too much of her own treachery for her to let go easily. “Though I must say I owe you my freedom for I would have become Lyria’s had you not found a way to cut my strings. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I admire your valor.”

The ship rattles then a series of screams echoes through the vents from down below and Verity gives Iskra a questioning look. “Ah, shall we see how the wives are fairing? Though I suppose we ought to check on the party as well... that was Halen you left behind there, no?”

 

[Syntra]

So, Iskra's heart? It did several somersaults in her chest, indeed, as she watched Verity explode in righteous anger. (Ah, how brightly it flared! Entire constellations dancing before her very eyes, yellow and orange and red, and so, so hot. ...whole kingdoms could turn to cinder underneath her touch, it seemed. Come to think of it, the pirate could see it happening to her as well! Getting closer to Verity now would be like... like lighting a match next to a barrel of gasoline, and she dared not find out how that metaphor would translate into reality. Consequences had sharp teeth, you know? And Iskra had been burnt so many times already, really, that she wasn't sure whether her flesh would even satisfy the flames. Fire demanded sacrifices, after all! Every second of its existence had to be bought, bought, bought, but the pirate had nothing left to give. Not anymore, at least. Charred remains wouldn't satisfy anyone but starving dogs, oh, they wouldn't, wouldn't, and that was all she was! ...besides, the captain reasoned, it was alright for her not to get involved. Lyria had attempted to enslave Verity, and what was the risk behind using a double-edged sword? That, sometimes, it cut your own skin, too. Let them enjoy this rare moment of justice, then! Shade knows it's in short supply in this corner of the galaxy.)

Above all, however? The dance Verity danced with Lyria was a tango, and so there was no place for another person. Sometimes, three people could be a crowd, indeed! So, with her hand on her sword, Iskra merely watched, and observed, and feasted her eyes on the spectacle. (Hmmm. Verity... moved with a lot of confidence, didn't she? Her hand was steady, her step sure, and some miniscule part of her imagined how, exactly, these qualities could be used in other contexts. Just, you know, on a purely theoretical basis! Because Iskra did not at all care about these things, of course-- she was ash, and ash felt nothing. Her heart resided in a wasteland, and moving away from if was about as possible as distancing from your own soul.)

Lyria's cowardly retreat didn't surprise her, then-- a woman who saw it fitting to override her opponent's will didn't have enough honor for it to fill a thimble, so of course she'd rethink her decision to fight the second Lady Luck stopped favoring her. Yes, she thought grimly, run, run with all your might, but your legs cannot carry you far enough. To escape my wrath, you'd have to leave this dimension! The princess then dispatched of the rest of the attackers, and they found themselves standing in a sea of corpses. "That was... impressive, I have to admit. Tell me, Verity," she looked her in the eye, "does it hurt? When you use your spikes like this, I mean. If not, what does it feel like? And... and there's no need to thank me, really," the captain blushed fiercely, "I never would have allowed such an unworthy woman to possess you. Not in this capacity, and not in any other, either. I would have done it thousand times over, if it could win you your freedom back."

The suggestion to go check on the wives was a valid one, though--- especially since a bloodcurdling scream cut the air, and oh, it was coming from Demetria's cabin! "Come swiftly," Iskra suggested, "I feel that our assistance is needed." The wives had suffered long enough, after all, and so Lyria's anger should find a better target. (Herself, perhaps? Herself, late Demetria, and the entirety of their crew, really, for being such monsters. Only a monster's fate could befall a monster, you see, just like there was a leash for every dog and a sword for every soldier.)

Without waiting for anything, Iskra barged inside! ...and did a double take, indeed, when she saw that thing towering over the poor women. (Yes, a thing. If a better name existed, it didn't come to her mind-- this fleshy blob, oozing blood and pus, evaded all description. ...wait. Could she actually spot Demetria's features there, bloated but still recognizable? There was a flash of blue hair, too, and-- and--)

"You bitches," Lyria and Demetria spoke at once, their voices layered over one another, "you dared to defy me?! I took care of you, loved you, and this is how you repay me? Perhaps I should once again teach you about the meaning of pain, for you seemed to have forgotten this lesson."

"No," a woman sobbed, "please, please, it wasn't my idea. It was them! The newcomers. Yes, yes, they came and told us we were free, and-- and-- there they are!" she pointed an accusatory finger at Iskra and Verity. "P-please, have mercy. We will be good to you, oh we will. They just seduced us with these ideas, but we won't listen anymore!"

The thing that used to be Demetria turned around, then, and her face? Nothing but a living nightmare, truly-- it shifted and writhed, as if the flesh itself was somehow boiling, and in the middle of it, you could see a large, lipless mouth. A lipless mouth that was covered in blood, too! "Ve...ri...ty..." it spoke, more Demetria than Lyria in that moment. "Can't... you... see? I... am... eternal. There's... no... escape. Get... on... your... knees... and... beg, for... your... filthy... life. I... may... still... find... mercy... in... my... heart."

"If you please her, that is!" Lyria smirked. "How confident are you feeling now, Verity? Finally, you get to see the full extent of your foolishness! There is no winning against us, you see. No, not even death itself can devour us! Instead, we shall devour you."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Ah, praise from the pirate! Verity hadn’t thought her show had been all that grand but hearing it so from Iskra sings straight to her heart and lights her cheeks under a soft pink hue. (Though not quite matching the intensity of the pirate's own blush.) “M-my spikes,” the once eloquent princess stammers then clears her throat, “do hurt when they come out of my skin. Though, it's more like a pinch and hurts much less than being sliced or stabbed.” As she offers an explanation, her remaining arsenal of spikes retreat back under her skin and the wounds close in their place. “They’re filled with a poison, as you may have guessed, but, interestingly, it’s that very poison that also heals the wounds they open when they emerge.” Though she could offer an entire history lesson on the nature of her adaptation and how her peoples came to possess such defenses, she decides to keep the lecture short for the sake of the rest of their mission. They still have a crew to watch out for, including Lyria, as well as Inure to collect.

While haste is on the princess's mind, it also occurs to Verity that this is their first Time alone together since coming back to each other––at least in a meaningful way as she does not think those moments where Iskra had been her captive truly count. She wishes to savor this for longer, especially to investigate the pirate’s insistence that she’ll never let an unworthy woman lay claim to her (like a chivalrous knight). Perhaps an inappropriate topic for her mind to occupy itself with, but she cannot help to wonder just who Iskra might approve as a suitor for herself. Not that she wants the pirate to approve of her choices per se, she merely wonders if Iskra aims to protect her from those ill-suited or if she, perhaps, is interested in having the princess for herself. Now that thought is a pleasant one—one she can surely fall asleep to, but the scream that comes from Demetria's quarters stops those dreamy thoughts from clouding her mind and she does not hesitate to trail behind the captain.

When they arrive at the bedroom where they had left that monster an actual one seems to be waiting for them. The princess swallows hard as her eyes widen to take in the sight of this creature that had once been her fiancée. This is most unnatural. This is most unholy. An abomination to behold with her own eyes––the princess nearly cannot stand to stare at this horrendous conglomeration of flesh and hubris. (Because surely only wicked Pride could ever inspire this sort of defiance against the holy Divinities.) The flesh looks oozing and rotten despite Verity knowing that Demetria’s corpse had probably still been warm when Lyria cursed them both into this odd fusion. Though despite her revulsion and her stomach’s topsy-turvy spin, she remains cooly calm. Even as the beast speaks and continues to try to hold power over her, she does not let the cracks in her foundation show. Her gaze hardens and she lifts her sword towards the rotten thing, sneering, “All I see is an arrogant woman who does not believe she must bow to Death, a most holy Divinity. For that, you must be put down.”

"I've always enjoyed breaking fighters," the monster booms before charging towards Verity. "I'll have you begging for my forgiveness you traitorous bitch!"

Verity barely has Time to dodge the attack, rushing towards the side and making sure to steer clear of the huddle of wives––they may have directed the beast's ire towards herself and her companion, but she does not wish them any harm. Anyone can see their actions have been born of Fear and the princess is still committed to keeping them safe. As much as she is committed to keeping Iskra safe. Which is probably why she tries to keep the captain from engaging in this battle. (As if somehow forgetting the pirate has continuously refused to leave her side.) "Iskra! Get the wives to safety––I can handle Demetria and Lyria," she commands, her voice carrying its royal authority––one she honestly thought she had lost sometime near the close of the war. Though, in truth, despite her confidence she is not certain whether or not she can take this beast down.

Once more, her spikes emerge from beneath her skin––though her back and arms only produce fine fur-like spines that are hardly harmful or deadly. She gathers herself from her position and watches her opponent's movements, trying to catch signs of any weakness for she cannot imagine that fusing with a dead woman does not come without Consequence. Though the monstrosity moves with surprising fluidity that if there are physical weaknesses, she cannot spot them, so she aims to slash through its arm except that when her sword connects with the arm, it slices through it with such easy that it causes Verity to do a double take. Where she should have met the resistance of flesh and bone, it feels more like cutting through soft clay. What's more, when she looks back at where she had cut, the limb is not lying on the ground––it is still secured fast to creature! Her eyes widen once more and before she realizes it, an arm swings into her gut and sends her crashing towards the bed; her back collides with one of the posts, breaking down the entire bed frame as if a cannonball had collided with it. She grunts against the impact, feeling the bruise spreading across her shoulders as she rolls onto her side and attempt to get up.

"Is that all you have, my love? If you are going to fight with me, at least make it fucking worth it!" the beast cries, lifting one of its grossly large limbs and, right before Verity's own eyes, the arm bubbles, morphs, and splits itself in two. The other follows the same pattern and with the four appendages, each reaches for one of the princess's limbs and grips her with such force she is almost certain her bones are about to be crushed. As Verity tries to regain her wits, she struggles against her captor as she is lifted up into the air, her limbs stretched apart as Demetria and Lyria start to pull her apart. Pain erupts from her joints, sharp and uncomfortable, as she lets out a yelp and her head starts to grow too cloudy to think properly. Before Pain becomes her only anchor, she shoots the spikes in her abdomen into the monster's blooded, swollen face––thanks to luck alone, she lands one of those spikes in one of its eyes which causes the creature to drop the princess and stumble backwards. Verity drops to the ground while the beast recovers and quickly scrambles to get to her feet; she takes this chance to fist her sword into the abominations belly, then swings it out, allowing its entrails to spill out onto the floor.

Though that hardly seems to phase this creature. For when it recovers from the initial attack, it only bellows out a laugh, and the wound seems to suture itself right before the princess's disbelieving eyes. Perhaps a trick of the light, and Verity sincerely hopes it is, but the monster even seems to grow in size as it heals. "You cannot strike us down, princess––we have embraced death and are unconquerable. Why don't you join us?" Then, before the princess can move, the monster grabs her arm once again and instead of trying to pull her apart, the monster's arm begins to melt and attach itself to Verity's skin, crawling up her arm and claiming new territory. "Let's have that threesome you promised us!"

 

[Syntra]

Death, Iskra knew, wasn't a merciless dictator. The cultural image it had across many civilizations, often represented by a ghastly skull and a sharp scythe? To the pirate, it didn't exactly seem accurate. No, more than anything else, death was a negotiator-- one that pressed a razor against your neck as she listened to your defense, but oh, listen she did. 'So you say your time hasn't come yet, huh?' the entity would chuckle. 'And what do you offer to convince me of that?' Most such negotiations fell through, for death couldn't be appeased with gold or empty promises, but not all of them did. Iskra, who offered a piece of herself every time her spark was about to go out, was the living proof! ...and, as she stared at the unholy fusion of Demetria and Lyria, she knew exactly what they'd offered, too. (Their humanity, that was the answer. The same thing Iskra had, essentially, even if in a more grandiose fashion. Well-behaved monsters, you see, at least had the decency to wear a mask! They only howled at nights, under the cover of the darkness, and ran, faster than the wind, whenever the sunlight threatened to kiss their face. Light revealed, you know? The true nature of all things, and therefore also their shame. And, with nobody to point an accusatory finger at you, you could pretend that you were more than you were! More than just a stain on the history of mankind, bloody and disgusting. ...Lyria, though. Lyria and Demetria, or whatever name they actually bore. They cared not for any of this, did they? Instead of drowning in shame, they reveled in their cursed existence! 'Unconquerable,' right. 'Invincible.' Fancy words, and ones that also contained a grain of truth, but oh, were they wrapped in lies, lies, lies. Lies, and distortions! What did the state of their physical bodies matter, after all, if their souls were infused with rot? If they'd lost themselves, long before the death would even come to collect its debt? Because, as the pirate knew, such gifts weren't given freely. Whatever they'd done to obtain their, they must have paid and paid and paid, and the price of immortality? So steep it was, indeed, that you'd be better off accepting your own demise.)

"Are you jesting, princess?" Iskra raised her eyebrow. "I am not letting you face this horror on my own. If I didn't know any better, I would have said you are trying to insult me!" Because it was insulting, regardless of the fact that Verity looked damn fine with a sharp sword, and a temper sharp enough to match it. (A guiding star, truly. Such a princess, Iskra thought, would be easy enough to follow in battle-- a glimmering ray of hope she was, much like a sun that peaked through the dark clouds. A promise that, yes, things could be better! And, even more importantly, that they could seize such a future with their very hands.) "Still, I... I agree. The wives' safety is paramount." That they'd betrayed them? Theirs was no more a betrayal than a dog flinching from a kick was-- they'd done what they'd done in order to save their own bruised skin, so Iskra of all people certainly couldn't judge them. Besides, it wasn't like there were any material consequences to their words! Even if that poor woman hadn't directed the abomination's attention to them, surely it would have noticed them at some point. As in, Iskra sorely doubted that Lyria and Demetria would have invited them to their private tea party, had it not been for those wicked, wicked sinners!

"I shall assist you once I ensure they will survive this intact, though. Till then... it's up to you, Verity. I trust you know how to take care of yourself. Now," Iskra's tone grew more authoritative, "follow me. Swiftly. If you don't wish to perish here, you shall do what I say!" ...could this be interpreted as a threat? Perhaps, if you viewed it from a certain angle, but the pirate couldn't afford to spend the precious time they had on convincing them to go along with their plan. She'd apologize to them afterwards, if they didn't find themselves turned into the beast's snack! The thing roared, and a shiver ran down her spine, but... no. No, she had to trust in Verity. Verity, with stars in her eyes, who had entrusted her with the task of keeping the innocents safe. That must have taken great courage, hadn't it? Given the images of destruction, indeed, that must have been carved into her very eyelids by now. (Iskra, butchering the dog without a hint of hesitation. Iskra, who had plunged her own sword into the depths of her stomach with the casualness usually reserved for putting one's shoes on. Iskra and the child in the cage, who had... by the Shade, she didn't even want to put this into words! Now. Now I can prove that I can be more than that. More than just a sword aimed against those who cannot defend themselves, and more than what they made me to be.)

There weren't many places that could truly be considered to be safe on this ship, but the control room, at least, had a lock-- a lock whose combination wasn't that hard to reconfigure with one of Myrne's devices. "C'mon," Iskra encouraged the weeping women, "go inside. I'll lock you there for now, and call for my crew. They will come to pick you up if we... if we don't manage to do so. In case it turns up you need the combination, it is..."

With all the formalities out of the way, and with The Dark Fate rushing to their rescue, Iskra headed back to Demetria's cabin. Please be safe, please be safe, please be... And, oh, she was! Or, more precisely, the princess wasn't dead, and that seemed to be all she could reasonably wish for in this situation. If the pirate didn't intervene soon, though? That could change very quickly. "A threesome? Aren't you forgetting someone?"

"Oooh, eager," Lyria smirked.

"I... love... that... in... a... girl," Demetria concurred.

Ignoring their ridiculous comments, Iskra sprinted forward, and!!! Easily, her sword cut through the monstrous flesh. Verity fell on the ground, free from their clutches-- except that then, then the severed tissue reconnected itself, and the monster laughed. "I can last for the whole night, baby! And you haven't even seen what I can do with my tongue yet." As if to demonstrate, the conglomeration leaned backwards, probably to...

"Duck, Verity!" Iskra shouted and did so herself, before the mass of flesh spat something in their general direction. And, that something? It left a hole in the wall, large and sizzling at the edges. Uh oh. So, if the pirate understood this correctly, this beast could regenerate itself, spew acid, and maybe perform countless other tricks! The victory, if it was within their reach at all, would be a hard-won one. No. No ifs. We have to think strategically! "There needs to be a weak spot," she told Verity, while dodging the hand that tried to grasp her. "Demetria... Demetria wasn't like this before Lyria turned up, right? Lyria wasn't like this without Demetria, either. That means they derive their strength from the fusion. If we can just separate them..." ...separate them, huh. Earlier, Lyria had used those peculiar threads, hadn't she? And, if Iskra focused, she could see something like that even now, poking out of the bloated corpse's back, like stitches badly sewn! "Do you see it, Verity? The threads. Aim for those. I'll... I'll distract her. Them."

So, as for what she did to accomplish that? Iskra stood, gracefully, and pointed her sword at the monster. "Won't you dance with me instead, Lyria? It doesn't take much courage, I imagine, to go after a princess, but I'm a soldier, forged in the heat of battle. From me, you'll get no easy victory! Or does that deter you?"

"Stupid bitch," Lyria shouted, "to me, you are a mosquito-- a piece of shit I accidentally stepped into. Just you wait...!"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

It seems as though Verity’s nightmares have made a home for themselves in reality––apparently it hasn’t been enough to torment the princess in her Sleep, because now she is being forced to live one out. To live as one, specifically, for the mutation of flesh continues to crawl up Verity’s arm and bind itself to her. Her own skin feels hot under the monster’s consumption, as if reaching a rolling boil and what’s worse is how she can feel her arm melting into Lyria and Demetria. Becoming part of them and less of hers. She feel her bones growing hot, melting her from the inside out and the Pain is so overwhelming her mouth can only open but no cries come forth. While the monster laughs, yanking the helpless princess forward, Verity tries to tug and rip herself away––to stop this sinful fusion from consuming her. But despite her efforts, she cannot get her arm free (if it is even still there at all, for she is not confident what remains of the appendage).

“Stop struggling and embrace us, my love. You can finally learn your fucking place!” they bellow, smiling to show a double row of teeth.

“Unhand me you filthy wretch!” Though her words are strong, her desperation is written plainly in her eyes as the monster’s flesh continues to swallow her arm, claiming more and more territory for itself until it has up to her shoulder to call its own. As peril grows, the princess prays for the pirate’s return and curses herself for ordering Iskra to take care of the wives. (Not that she thinks that was a poor choice to make, she only wishes there had been away to both get them to safety and still have the pirate by her side. Then maybe she could find her strength once again and pull herself from the clutches of this foul beast.) However, for once, her prayers are answered quickly and while she is not out of danger yet, her heart calms at the sight of the woman who has proven the truth of her promises Time and Time again.

With renewed confidence, she stares down at her opponent and lets her gaze cast a curse upon these rotten women. She falls backwards onto the ground once Iskra has freed her arm from the monster’s encasing. It appears intact even though her skin is agitated, pink, and still stings but before she can even fully assess the damage or recover, she’s ducking once more to dodge an acid attack. The display just reminds her how formidable their opponent is with all of these enhancements thanks to the dark magic that has fused them together. Yet the realization does not paralyze the fighter within her. Not ready to give up, especially not in front of the captain whose spirit seems so unconquerable to the princess, she listens carefully to what Iskra has to say. She squints her eyes as she jumps over a swinging arm and spots those same ghostly threads that had enslaved her earlier. “Yes, I see them. I shall be swift so that I may return to your side,” she promises, her gaze lingering on the scarf around Iskra's neck and wishing she could offer the captain more protection than cloth and air. The silly thought that perhaps kissing the pirate's forehead may protect her does cross the princess's mind, but she decides against it as the beast howls and aims to hurl more acid spit at them. She dodges the attack and dashes towards Demetria and Lyria's backside.

‘Sage Victory, show me your path,' she prays. Verity's eyes laser focus on the monstrosity as she moves, rushing through the cabin with such swiftness as if the air is carrying her. Her grip on her sword is tight in her hand as she circles around towards the back of the creature and locks onto the sloppy seam that lines down its spine. With how fast this monster has been able to regenerate itself, she believes the seam will need to be cut in one fell swoop and even then she is not sure how the monster will react. However, there is no Time to think of the finer details because the longer she hesitates to carry out her end of this task, the greater chance the captain has of being injured. So she waits patiently for an opening, sidestepping and dodging Lyria and Demetria's flailing limbs. As the monster slams her arms down on the ground, shaking the entire cabin, Verity chooses that moment to strike. She hops onto the beast's back, jams her blade at the top of its spine where the seam starts and swiftly carries herself down its back. Demetria and Lyria howl the moment the blade enters their back and though they try to shake the princess off and reach for her, their attempts are for naught.

Their bodies don't immediately split apart as Verity may have hoped, but Iskra had been right that breaking the seam is key to their undoing. With the stitches ripped apart, their bodies glitch between a fused state and one where they are merely joined at the hip. Still, waiting for something to happen will not secure the Victory. "Iskra, grab Lyria––we need to pry them apart," she orders, grabbing one of Demetria's limp arms––arms that are struggling to hold onto Lyria's essence for Life with how they animate and drop dead every other second. Despite how grotesque this all is, Verity does not shy away from clamping down on Demetria's arm, ignoring the woman's choked howl as she pulls and pulls, walking backwards until the body is free from its mutated form. While it is fortunate that the monster is no more, as Verity makes the last tug she falls to the ground with her betrothed's writhing body laying on top of her.

"Ve...ri..ty..." Demetria mewls, her dark eyes somehow both lifeless and full of malice, "I... will––" Though before the punk can say anything more, Verity punches a dagger through her throat and pushes the body off of her.

 

[Syntra]

Once, long before her fears had been beaten out of her, seeing something like that might have terrified Iskra. The creature, after all, looked as if it had crawled out of the depths of hell! It smelled of hell, too. Of death and flames and cinder, and if it touched you? Those things would claim you as well, only to drag you down, down, down, down to its level. Your flesh would make a feast for the monster, oh yes, and nothing but bones would remain! Scary, wasn't it? ...except that, you see, Iskra viewed it different eyes. Demetria and Lyria weren't demons-- no, they were just women, and stupid ones at that. Women so stupid, in fact, that they'd couldn't tell trash from treasure! To escape a mayfly's existence, they'd thrown away all that made life precious, so now... now they lived a paltry parody of it, indeed. Kind of like if you played a song meant for an orchestra on a kazoo, or if you stuffed your face with mud and called it a dessert! No, people this foolish couldn't scare her. Try as they might, the pirate saw through them, oh, she did, and the truth that she spotted there? It convinced her that, for them, death would be a mercy-- a release from the cells of their own minds, really, dull and grey and boring. Was that not the ultimate kindness? So, without hesitation, Iskra grabbed Lyria, just as instructed.

"Unhand me! Unhand me, you filthy bitch!" Lyria shrieked. Her body kept shifting under her touch, ever-changing, and Iskra could almost, almost see a hint of beauty in it occasionally-- an inhuman beauty to be sure, one reminiscent of fungi that grew in fantastic shapes, but it was eye-catching nonetheless. Oh, if only she didn't use those powers of hers in such a twisted manner! (Beauty, you see, could be deceptive. A sword may have glimmered in the sunlight, but what was that worth, truly, when it could rob you of the remainder of your sunrises? When it could plunge you in the eternal darkness, and throw away the key? ...still, still was she searching for those answers. Perhaps that would always be true.) "Do it, and I may fucking spare your meaningless little life. Trust me, you don't want to make an enemy out of me!"

Needless to say, however, that it was a little too late for that. With all her might, Iskra pulled and pulled, and the beast filled her ears with more screaming, and-- and, by the Shade! The sound that followed their separation was disgustingly wet, akin to the soundtrack to those unlucky moments when you stepped into a mound of mud, and instantly, Iskra and Verity were showered with... no, she didn't want to know what, exactly, the substance was. Something biohazardous in nature, no doubt! "You will pay," Lyria hissed, "I will--"

"--die," Iskra finished the thought for her, and buried her sword in her chest. "Ugh. After this, I will need to disinfect my sword," she narrowed her forehead in disgust. "I fear it might corrode if I don't. Nevertheless..." she raised her gaze to Verity, and there was a spark of recognition, "good job, princess! I... I knew I could rely on you. When you asked me to escort the wives, I had my doubts, but I am glad I didn't listen to them. Clearly, you are more than capable of taking care of yourself! It's been my honor. Are you unhurt, then? If that is the case, I suggest we go and wrap things up here."

'Wrapping things up,' as Iskra had called it, turned out to be a surprisingly simple affair. Halen, who had stayed behind as Nova in order to entertain Demetria's women? Probably sooner rather than later, the feast had turned into a bloodbath, and they'd found the other princess sitting on a pile of corpses. (Efficient, Iskra had to admit. At least half of the job had already been done for her, considering how many of those lowlives had barely managed to walk straight by the time 'Eurydice' and 'Nova' had walked inside, but still! The pirate wasn't as petty as to deny her her well-deserved credit. No, that she still harbored a grudge towards Halen didn't mean that she hadn't handled her part of the task admirably!) Speaking of competence, however? Iskra's own crew didn't lag behind. The Dark Fate had arrived already, and collected the wives-- Myrne was treating their injuries when the captain found her, and Eran, who sometimes doubled as a cook, was apparently committed to drowning them in food. "No," she pursed her lips, "I don't care that you aren't hungry. Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? You must have forgotten what having a full stomach feels like! So, don't argue with me and eat."

"Will they be alright?" Iskra asked Myrne, quietly enough for the patients not to hear her.

"There's no permanent damage, if that's what you want to know," the older woman shrugged. "Their souls might bear scars that are less visible, though. Still, I presume they'll recover, if given enough time."

"With those monsters gone, they'll have as much of it as they need. Listen, Myrne, regarding Inure--"

"We've sent Ylna for her already, captain. No need to worry!" Except that, you know, there was a whole world for her to worry about-- Demetria's shadow had obscured it before, but without that black stain in her field of vision, Iskra could see it quite clearly. (Old wounds, and old grievances. Words unspoken, and also words flung at the other with venom, and everything in between, really! From a single original injustice, all of this had sprung, which... which was a signal, clearly. In order to root out pretty much any corruption, you had to go to its source, right? Right.)

With that in mind, Iskra then sought out the princess. "Verity?" she asked, almost shyly. "I, um. My women have gone to retrieve Inure, and... I have thought about this, a lot. Stealing her was something I never should have done. Even back then, I knew it was sinful, but with my hands this stained already? I suppose I thought one more transgression wouldn't really make a difference. That ends justified the means. Well, I... in short, I changed my mind. I want you to have her. It's not like I need her given that we have The Dark Fate now, and we are not looking for the wayfinder anymore." Mirthlessly, then, the pirate chuckled. "Besides, the name of my new ship is much more fitting for someone like me, anyway. Wouldn't you agree, captain Verity?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Where Iskra went ahead to check on the wives, Verity decides to stay with Halen among the wreckage she had caused. Bodies lay strewn about the mess hall, some torn apart, some severed, others with their skin completely melted off... The sight leaves much open for the imagination and truly Verity cannot imagine what sparked Halen's ire to cause such destruction. It's not really like her, but the exiled does not worry her mind over it. Especially as the rest of Halen's crew file in to meet with their leader and some tentatively make small talk with Verity before clearing the area of carnage. (With Demetria, Lyria, and the rest of the rotten derby girls vanquished, it had been agreed upon that the ship should go to the wives, to help them start their new lives; leaving them with a mess had not seemed fair or a show of good faith so Halen volunteered her women to clean up the carnage.) While they clear the area, Halen and Verity congregate behind the bar, where the elder of the two cleans up the princess's wounds and washes away whatever goop, for want of a better word, had exploded from the beast once she had been separated. It has been a while since Verity has allowed Halen to take care of her, and she does not protest.

"You must know, Halen, I am not returning with you. I appreciate your assistance and I know that I deceived you in agreeing to––"

"Verity," the woman starts, stopping her ministrations as she lifts her head to meet her friend's gaze, "I know. I am not as stupid as you think me to be, because believing that you would ever return... it was foolish and hopeful. I realized my mistake in ever believing you would leave such an adventurous Life with that pirate of yours once I actually met her. She's not as bad as I had assumed, but she's still not one of us, Verity... I just don't understand, princess, how you can leave your country behind? Your entire planet and livelihood. It makes not a lick of sense and I have spent so many hours trying to figure this out, but I cannot. Do you no longer believe in the Restoration?"

The princess sighs, though Halen's words do surprise her if only because she has never once heard her friend admit that there is a problem she cannot figure out. Halen's frustration, too, is apparent with her furrowed brow that rivals that of a school child first being introduced to the idea of adding together double digit numbers. "I appreciate your want to understand me, Halen, but I truly do not think you ever will. For to understand my position, you would have to acknowledge all the mistakes you alone have made.”

“My––? To what are you referring?”

“Do not deny that you only saw me as a symbol of hope more than anything else––otherwise you would have let me in on what you were up to much sooner and actually given my opinions weight. And by the Time you were willing to listen, I had already made my mind on trying to make things work with our queen, because I believed she could change. Foolish, as I now realize that hope had been.

“And though I cannot predict how our lives would look had you not coerced my involvement in the Restoration, the rebellion became what it was because of the propaganda you aired. I know you believed it to be the right thing, because you knew the people would listen to me, but it came at the cost of so many lives. My own included. Alive, I am, but I cannot say the same for those who I cherished. I can no longer follow you faithfully as I did before.”

“But––”

“No, I am not finished. Listen, for just once in your Life, listen to me, Halen. My mothers are but mere decoration on the palace steps. My sisters are separated and I do not even know how many of them are alive––though perhaps I should be thankful that at least some still live, because the same cannot be said for any of my friends save for the ones we escaped with.

“Though I do pray for your Victory, for our people do not deserve that wretch as their queen, I cannot ever be by your side again. Truthfully, it sickens me to look at you and I only called you here because I know the guilt you must feel demands your loyalty. Perhaps I have used you, but you have always done just the same to me. You cannot hide behind my image any longer if you truly wish to lead; you must trust in your own power and talents and not get lost in what you lack. That is how you will win. You will find your way, trust in that."

While the conversation likely has more and more directions to go in, it is cut short with the arrival of the pirate. (And perhaps Halen is grateful for that, because her friend's biting words are leaving their impression in the princess's head.) Without prompting, Halen slinks off towards the opposite end of the bar to give the two some semblance of privacy while Verity's mind spins and spins at the sight of Iskra. Of course, this had been an inevitability––them talking, that is, and where she normally looks forward to her conversations with the captain, with everything unspoken between them, she may have purposefully let the pirate rejoin her crew to delay whatever conversation is in store for them. Verity pulls Iskra's coat back around her shoulders and wraps it tightly around her body, hugging it close to her since she cannot hug the pirate herself. "That's wonderful, Iskra––"

Oh. She still has more to say so Verity quiets herself and listens. Though no amount of preparation could have ever helped her brace herself for whatever it is that the pirate has just suggested. Her lungs all but stop working, her mouth hangs agape, and her arms drop to her sides as she just stares at Iskra. Words have completely flown from her mind and... 'Oh. This must mean that we are to part ways.' Earlier, she remembers the pirate speaking in a such a way it had tricked Verity into thinking that perhaps Iskra was thinking about the princess's return to her and her crew; admittedly, the prospect had not bothered her. Even throughout the day's events it has been something her mind has circled back to as she assumed that in order for something like that to work they would need to address all the casualties from their last few interactions. But, with what Iskra has just said, she realizes she must have misunderstood.

Her shoulders fall forward and her head drops, visibly upset. "Iskra... I don't know what to say––thank you, comes to mind, but," 'but does this mean goodbye?' "oh, I don't know," she finishes, giving up on trying to find her words or even hiding that she's somehow disappointed with being given Inure. Of course she had wanted Inure since the first day she set eyes on the ship and everyday after. She has wanted to be her captain, her princess, and return her back to her home planet as the last living relic of their great exodus. It's not as though that dream does not still exist within the princess, but that her feelings have somewhat changed in that she... she doesn't want to leave the pirate.

"Are you abandoning your post as captain of Inure? She accepts you as her commander. I-I know she will accept me just the same, but... What use do I have for a ship without a crew? Even if Halen were to join me, we have not enough women to commandeer both Inure and Cynosure. There's no way I can even find a crew of descendants so far from my planet either––so she may as well be left in the care of pirates who at least treat her with dignity and respect. And," she swallows hard, averting her gaze away from Iskra, finding it much too difficult to look into those blue depths, "and are you saying goodbye? If this is how you are saying it, this gift does not cushion the blow for I shall miss you with such intensity a thousand suns could not light up my days."

 

[Syntra]

To be frank? When crafting her proposal, if you were kind enough to call it 'crafting,' that was, instead of 'blurting out whatever came to her mind,' Iskra... hadn't even thought to imagine Verity's reaction, really. Just, why should she? Spending her mental energy on such a thing had seemed wasteful, for surely, her response would be a foregone conclusion. (Inure, the precious artefact of Verity's peoples-- their grand ancestor, still humming her endless song, still capable of reaching her descendants' hearts. Once brought back to her homeland, the pirate was sure, her subjects would kiss the princess's feet! The false queen would fall, and... and Verity would be crowned, doubtlessly. The throne would welcome her back, joyfully, like a wayward daughter who'd finally found her way. Verity's grand destiny was waiting, with its arms spread! And as for the brief dalliances with a certain pirate? Those would become a mere footnote in history textbooks-- probably no longer than a few sentences, really, and those, too, would be shrouded in mystery. 'An unexpected ally,' 'a villain turned hero,' 'a dastardly woman, with motivations far too obscure for us to comprehend'. Those were the descriptors Iskra expected to receive, you know? Since so many of her interactions with the princess seemed to be tainted with shame, and pain, and all things unpleasant, that she didn't really think Verity would be all too eager to share the truth with her historians. No, they'd be forced to draw their own conclusions! ...which the pirate was okay with, weirdly enough. Better to be assumed a hero than let them confirm her villainy, right? The narrative of her own homeworld had condemned her already, so Iskra actually enjoyed this mysterious space in Verity's history, where she could reasonably occupy all roles, all over the spectrum. Innocent, starry-eyed girls would examine her contributions, and call her a knight! Women experienced and world-weary, the pirate assumed, would look beyond the facade and see her for the wretch she was, but that was fine, too. Instead of Iskra the Nobody, you see, she would simply become Iskra the Many-Faced. Constantly, her picture would be shifting, shifting, shifting, and since change was the very definition of life? The captain would finally be alive, in ways she hadn't been before. Long after the Shade tore her soul to shreds, Iskra's legacy would remain bright, shining, beautiful! The subject of research and wonderings, of both nightmares and dreams. 'Contradiction' would become synonymous with her very name, indeed, and that was more than someone like her could ever hope for.)

(Would she miss the princess? Well, duh. The one who had dwelled in the darkness for her entire life, and then finally stumbled out of her cave, was bound to fall in love with the star-covered sky-- with the light and hope and joy, and everything that she very emphatically wasn't. Still, that didn't justify her trying to steal that sky for herself, you see? Verity didn't belong to anyone, least of all her. Caging her in that flimsy cell of hers had been both folly and great injustice, and... and if she wanted to repent, the giving her her wings was the only route she could follow, clearly. Anything else would have been just empty words! Actions are what matter, the pirate told herself. Don't you dare to falter. Your desires are a trap, and should you spring it, both of you will be poisoned by it.)

Except that, for some reason, Verity didn't seem happy. Why? How come? Had Iskra offered too little? Perhaps the princess thought Inure to have been tainted by the invaders now, and so it brought her no joy-- a sad story, but one that Iskra couldn't wring a happy ending out of. It had been her hands that had tainted the vessel, so obviously, she couldn't clean it! But... but, no. Curiously enough, that didn't seem to be the problem here. No, Verity spoke of logistics and personnel issues, and all things that didn't really fit her image of the princess with her head in the clouds, and... the captain couldn't help but frown, really. "I'm sure it won't be a problem to find a crew who would want to pilot a ship as beautiful as Inure, princess. And I'm not abandoning her. She is yours by birthright, so I guess you could say I was... merely keeping her safe for you." A sugarcoated version of events, perhaps, but Iskra felt she needed some sweetness to be able to swallow the bitter pill that went with her offer-- never seeing Verity again, that was. (Still, it had to be done. In medicine, the bitter component was often the one that carried the healing properties, you know? And, as much as she wanted to bask in Verity's light, it was also the same light that caused her skin to burst in flames, and become covered in cancerous growths. They just... weren't good for one another, obviously! You couldn't pour water into your hearth, nor could you keep a wolf among your sheep, and their continued companionships seemed to have similar effects on them. Better to part now, when we can still look one another in the eye, than wait for another violent explosion.)

The Shade was apparently bellbent on laughing her in the face, though, because what Verity said next? Oh, there was an explosion, alright. Directly in her heart! 'I shall miss you,' Verity said, and Iskra's world was suddenly spinning, spinning, spinning-- to the pointed she had to grab the railing, really. (Miss her? Her? Had Verity forgotten already? Did she not remember how sharp her teeth were, and the gusto with which they'd sunk into her throat?)

"I... I don't," Iskra stammered, with her mouth oh so dry. (It felt as if she'd been eating nothing but sand, and perhaps that was true. At least since their separation.) "I don't know what to say, princess. I'd miss you, too, in the same way a moon misses her sun, but do you think this is a good idea? I mean, you..." You made it obvious what you truly think of me. "I know I offered you to stay, and I meant it, but I also did so thoughtlessly. After all, I'm still me. You know now what that means. Why would you wish to spend your days with a monster? And given all those things I said..." Sharply, Iskra inhaled, and looked away. "I'd apologize, except that I meant them, too. It wasn't that I believed in all those cruel things, but I wanted to hurt you, and hurt you I did. I wanted to keep you away. I don't anymore, but that hardly changes anything, does it? Nothing can change the past. Apologies are there in order to fix failings you didn't foresee, not to escape the consequences of your actions, so... so I won't say it. I can't. I can't, just like I can't be anything else but that which I am. Are you sure that this is what you wish for?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Oh, sweet Cosmos! What is Verity even thinking in saying all of these things? The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could even think what they were and like a boulder racing down a mountain she is surely going to destroy everything in her path with what she is saying––and unfortunately the one in her path is no longer Halen but Iskra! A woman she has hurt enough with her words and demands. Oh, she can see so clearly now how Iskra has come to assume that she is like any other princess out there. Surely, the ancestors will strike her down soon for hubris this fantastic must be saved from the rest of the lineage. Just how can she say such a thing? How can she demand the pirate's concern for her own feelings when she is the one who took them to that dark place the moment she chose to murder her? To ask such is thing––how aptly royal of her. If she were Iskra, she too would want to be free of such rotten company. One that can smile in your face and compose poems in your honor only to bare nasty fangs later. Earlier had probably been a cordial invitation, one not meant to be taken seriously because clearly the pirate has given some serious thought to what she had said earlier and decided it best to part ways. And perhaps Verity should have taken that and ran instead of pouring more acid onto their situation––how very like her to ruin a perfectly fine relationship; they could have ended on a more positive note this Time and isn't that what Verity had wanted anyway? Isn't that where all her Regret had stemmed?

Well, somewhat. She does Regret how they ended. She Regrets more that they are no longer each other's company as she had grown quite fond of the pirate during their Time together. Not that it should matter, she realizes. It's arrogant to think her feelings are the only ones that matter when she knows the pirate must be wounded as well. Even if Iskra's words still burn her ears, the memories are not as searing as they once had been and with all the Time-lapsed between them she sees her own fault in this mess. In how they ended up so fractured. Perhaps this is a bold wish for the princess to have given that she so clearly remembers Iskra affirming her hatred for her. In the moment, the flames around them protected her from feeling the sting of those words, but they does stick out to prod her now. Even if the pirate may not hate her now, the damage between them may be far too great to mend.

With all this swarming through her head, Verity is about to apologize for assuming that Iskra should care that the princess is not pleased with their departure, but she quiets herself to listen to what the captain has to say––apparently too late to take back what has already been said. 'Please let this not be another brawl,' she thinks, keeping her gaze fixed to the ground as if that will lessen the blow. And it doesn't. Everything the captain says both brings up the Pain she has been avoiding and the Pain she has caused. 'So I see my words left their impression,' as if Verity can really be surprised. Her words can be syrup or they can be venom and she has heard that her venom, in particular, can be most memorable. 'Foolish of you to think otherwise.' Still, however, what Iskra says does not completely dash the princess's hope; for in her words, her strange words that suggest apologetic feelings but not an apology itself, she seems a glimmer in the distance and it's that glimmer she will follow until it is bright enough to be her beacon.

"You want my honesty, correct?" she asks, taking a sharp breath as she lifts her head to look at the pirate. Though it terrifies her to keep herself steady, she wants to show the pirate her integrity, that she is not just a liar with a pleasing cadence and eloquent words. That she can live up to her name. "Truthfully, I know not if this is a good idea. It's not as though I have forgotten what last transpired between us––not even the strongest acid could corrode that from my memory––but I cannot help but to feel drawn towards you each Time we speak. True, last we spoke I was repelled by both what you said and by what you had done," in the memories she had seen and the slap she had lived, "I was angry, too. I spoke in a fashion that was careless and without thought. So, yes, I intended to hurt you, too, because of how you hurt me," even if she realizes now it wasn't fair to treat the pirate in such a manner. Not after she murdered the woman. "I could not keep my head straight and I wanted you to know how much I was hurting. That excuses not what I did or what I said and when I apologize to you, Iskra, I say it not to avoid the Consequences for my actions but to say, 'I hurt you, I see that and for that I am sorry. Let us fix this, because I do not want to be sour with you.'"

The princess swallows hard and studies the captain's face carefully, as she has done so many Times before. "You succeeded in pushing me away. I succeeded in pushing you. And after all that success I will admit I was not satisfied. I never should have called you a monster, Iskra. That is not what you are––the sins attached to your name, I cannot deny they are monstrous in nature and they were born from a monstrous situation. Something you could not have stopped if you were meant to survive. The situation is not for my eyes to judge, for, compared to you, I live in an ivory tower. I would take back everything I said if I could, but as you said, the past has already been written in stone. If the Consequences for my actions are never having you as a companion or confidant again, then I accept that. But if there is the possibility that we may try for something different, something... honest this Time? I would take that opportunity hundreds of Times over––even if we end in disaster I cannot walk away knowing that I did not at least try to win your favor again."

 

[Syntra]

To be completely honest? Verity may have slapped the pirate with all her might and still, still it would have shocked her less! Just... damn. Had she missed the point of apologies this drastically? Before, the pirate had thought they were basically reserved for those 'oops, sorry, I stepped on your foot' situations-- not to amend moral failings, in other words, but to express that you hadn't meant to do whatever you'd done to hurt the other person. In her eyes, anything else had been cowardice. If you had the gall to swing the sword, after all, then you better accept the responsibility for it as well! You couldn't cut your enemy's flesh, only to then act surprised when blood oozed from the wound. Consequences just... didn't work like that, really. They didn't, didn't, didn't, and the ancient order of the universe wouldn't self-destruct in such a spectacular fashion just to appease those who refused to play by the rules. ...in the end, they were all but pawns. Pawns stuck in a game they didn't understand, moving along the routes that had been designed for them ages before they'd even been born. Only the stars knew where those paths led, and oh, were they silent companions!

Iskra's years of travels? In truth, those had only made her more fatalistic-- you didn't understand just how cleverly the lock that separated you from your freedom had been designed, after all, till you tried to pick it. (She'd tried so, so hard. Once her sword had been bathed in the Holy Vessel's blood, you know, the pirate had promised to herself, 'never again'. Never again would she betray her own principles; never again would she let herself be used; never again would she look at herself in the mirror and recoil at the reflection it showed her. Never again to all of that, indeed! ...except that, as Iskra had learned, 'never' was a very long time, and old habits? Old habits bit, hard enough to break your bones. Kicking and screaming it may have been, yes, but over and over, Circumstances had dragged her back to her old self-- back to the monster she had been, raised on death and despair. ...even as they spoke, she could sense her. Sometimes, Iskra liked to pretend that she wasn't really there, but that couldn't make her disappear, now could it? Despite her refusing to meet her eyes, the beast still rested within, and sharpened her claws, and waited for the right moment to snap her chains. Nature or nurture, that mattered not! Regardless of its origin, the monster craved blood, and one day, as Iskra was aware, that of her victims would not be enough. Only her own death would sate its hunger, which... which was fair, really. The one who swung the sword had to die by a sword, right? Karmic justice in action.)

So, yes, the pirate no longer believed in the fairytales that claimed it was you who spun your own fate, just like she didn't believe in happy endings for monsters. None of that fit the patterns established by her life so far, you see? The most Iskra could reasonably hope for was to die, permanently, in pursuit of something more noble than she was. (A weapon could be used to protect something beautiful, she knew. So what if the captain couldn't change her nature? A wolf couldn't turn into a lamb, but, if nothing else, she could at least choose whose throat she'd tear out. Such was the only freedom afforded to her, really.)

The worldview that had just been described was one Iskra had formed throughout her entire life, brick by brick-- the foundations were unshakable, the whole fortress unconquerable. That, at least, was what she thought! What she had thought, till Verity had come and shattered that castle as if it had been made of glass. So, so easily she defied their fate! The adventures of the princess and the pirate had ended, with the little proverbial 'fin' written at the end of the last chapter, but the princess had said 'no,' and simply pulled out a new book. A new book with blank pages, just waiting to be filled. ...could Iskra do it, too? To leave their past behind like that, and focus on something new?

"I... I have never thought about it like that," Iskra admitted. "Where I come from, apologies weren't a popular currency. Indeed, I am a fool, and I don't mind admitting that, for the one who doesn't see her own limitations is the greatest fool of them all. So, if you conceptualize your apology as an expression of guilt... then yes, I apologize to you as well. I am not going to pretend those words make my sins even remotely lighter, but I do feel bad about causing you pain." No, only actions could ever come close to undoing that, and if she hoped to accomplish such a feat? Iskra had to give herself a chance to be there for Verity, dammit. ...she had to give it to both of them, really. Why, after all, should her own pain matter less? Suppressing it, as she had learned, would only make it explode all the more violently-- like a bottle that had been shaken, shaken, and shaken, and then opened without care.

"Never be your companion again," Iskra whispered. "If there's something I learned from my life, Verity, it's that 'never' is a concept too vast for us to comprehend. Too much of an absolute, really. Months ago, I would have said that, yes, I truly never wish to see you again, but now?" Gently, the pirate grabbed her hands, and raised them to her lips. "Things have changed. I... must confess that I wasn't happy, either. I don't think I've ever been, really-- save for the brief time we spent together, perhaps. That made your absence all the more jarring. It was like... like seeing colors for the first time, you know? And then being plunged back into the darkness again, with next to no warning. So, yes, I would like to see whether we cam be..." the pirate shrugged, "good to one another, I suppose. More than we've been."

"But, Verity," Iskra looked up to her, "where will we go? What will we do? Since the wayfinder fiasco, my travels have been... quite aimless, I'm afraid. I think I may have lost myself again. And, um, I still think you should command the ship. That Inure has been stolen from you is a great injustice, and if we are to start anew, I would like to correct that old grievance."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕
​

In walking into this conversation, Verity had expected it to be about as comforting as knowingly walking through a minefield with the vague belief that at the other side is some promised paradise. It had filled her with nerves so fierce she thought her essence might truly rattle out of its corporeal shell in dire need of an escape. However, despite her overwhelming Fears that they will crash and burn once more, like two colliding stars doomed to become fragments of what they once were upon impact, the pirate dowses all her worries. Not with what she says, but how she is. How she gives Verity her honesty so freely and confesses both the want to stay and reflects the same Fears the exist within the isles of the princess's mind. Knowing that she is just as worried about their course allows the exiled to feel less alone. In sharing this with the pirate, she believes there is hope that they are not doomed to repeat their prior mistakes; that they are not doomed to hopeless patterns. 'Together, we can work through this.' (Oh, she does not assume that working through what still remains unspoken between them will be an easy task. It would be foolish to believe or even hope for as much. Verity knows the journey ahead is long, but with Iskra by her side, she does not shy away from the idea of possible challenge and hardship later. For the pirate, she will brave each step as there is no worthier a woman to the princess than Iskra.)

While nerves once threatened to ravish her mind, they all melt away the more they speak and express their wants. (So transparently too! There are no games or riddles between words––it's so very unlike what Verity is used to and she quite likes it. Though, now that she thinks about it, the pirate has always made honesty seem easy and she's always found herself more honest in her company.) Worry, of course, still exists in her but to a lesser a degree. This, she feels, she can handle. Her gaze softens, lights seeming to dance in her emerald gaze as warmth slowly spreads through her body akin to when the sun first stretches up over the horizon and blankets the earth. Since every moment may not feel like this one, she wants to preserve this memory to the best of her ability to remind her, always, that this is who they are––that they are not just those people who can sling bullets through their teeth.

"I can say the same of my own sins," she admits, sheepishly, because in her mind there is no greater crime than murdering the woman who had been in your embrace. (By these standards, she almost dares to put herself in the same category as Demetria and Lyria––for had they not treated the wives with just the same amount of care as Verity had Iskra? In some ways, yes, but in so many more ways, no. She realizes, at least, that between herself and those women, she feels remorse. Her actions, too, had not been about asserting power over another but had been born of some illness she cannot explain. Still, she does feel as rotten even if she carries a different affliction.)

Softly, a gasp escapes her lips and her cheeks suddenly color as the pirate pulls her out of her head by grabbing her hands and kissing them. The princess all but stiffens, eyes eagerly fixed on Iskra, worrying that if she were to move even a hair, all of this will dissipate before her. Though she realizes that will not happen once she hears Iskra's confession. Something swirls inside of her chest that sends her heart aflutter while tears start to show themselves in her eyes, happy ones, of course, as reflected in her grin. "Iskra, forever more, I shall show you that I can be good to you, for you. I shall give you no reason to doubt this in me, either, for losing you has been one of my Life's greatest Regrets. Just as you have ached for color in your Life again, I have missed the only woman who has ever lit my mind aflame with the ideas sprung from her wisdom. The only woman I have ever felt comfortable enough to be as true with––granted, I know I have not been most genuine, but going forth you shall meet Verity in all her imperfection. As I hope to meet Iskra and all her faults. I can only hope that the imperfections in me can be friends with the faults in you."

Of course, this brings them with how to proceed. Iskra is not wrong to point out that even if they are to rejoin forces, they must have some direction. And, in all honesty, the princess does not want to return to their shared quest as seekers. As curious as she is, and while her goal this Time around would not be to use it as a device to bring down the queen, there is still so much anguish attached to the wayfinder. That from this quest, all their problems had emerged. For the last Time they pursued this endeavor, she had not be able to see a way forward without betraying Iskra at some point; perhaps she worries those inclinations are a permanent part of her character and that she won't be able to resist her nature. So returning to that is off the table––completely out of the question. "I cannot say that my way has become any clearer in your absence, either, but perhaps, together, we can search. I-I," the princess hesitates as an uncharacteristic shyness overcomes her. Though she refuses to back away and she continues, speaking perhaps a little too quickly, "I have always wanted to visit the crystal catacombs. Ever since I read about them in your library. I also wish to find the ancient tortoises that are so large they have tricked astronomers into thinking they are tiny planets, undiscovered. The very ones who contain all the wisdom of the universe who may, if they deem you worthy, part some of their wisdom unto you... And, and I've never had a peach before, but they sound most delectable based on what I have read. Iskra, I want to travel the galaxy as you once suggested we might. I had never left my planet, I had hardly left my home country, before my exile and there are so many things of the universe I do not know that I wish to understand. Will you show me these things? Perhaps, in that adventure, we may find what is missing in us. The pieces we have lost for one reason or another," she muses, the shyness that had briefly taken over completed gone in place of her childlike excitement. "I want to stuff my eyes with wonder, fill my nose with new scents, and, and... I should like to do this all with you. If that is what you should want as well, of course.

"Inure shall be my ship," as she will not reject the opportunity to someday bring her home, "but I will still need a captain and her crew to help me. Obviously, funding such travels shall come with a cost and I do not expect you or your women to work on my ship for free," she says, clearly putting thought into her response. "So, um, we shall do whatever it is pirates do to make their way. Though I will not condone bringing harm to the common folk, for they already have tyrants of their own to deal with. Oh! A-and, whatever you need to complete your mission... we shall do that as well for I know your mission is important to you and I shall not be the one to stand in your way. I will, however, stand by your side."

 

[Syntra]

Words swirled through her mind, as numerous as specks of dust, really, and yet, yet none of them seemed worthy enough! For capturing the beauty of this moment, you see, they were way too weak, way too paltry-- mere shadows on the wall, from which you could only deduce its general shape. As for the colors, however? Oh no, no, no. Those were only reserved for Iskra's eyes, in their blinding radiance, and the tales she'd spin around them could never do them any real justice. It was, uhh... the difference between tasting strawberries, and merely being told what they tasted like. (Maybe Iskra preferred it that way, too. Selfish she wasn't, or at least she liked to think so, but this conversation of theirs simply wasn't meant for third party's ears. Not when they'd sacrificed so much to get to that point, anyway. Each moment of thoughtfulness they'd bought and bought and bought, with their tears and blood, and having to share it with others now? The prospect bordered on sacrilegious, indeed. No, hearing just how much Verity had missed her was hers and hers only! ...some part of her still didn't believe it, mind you. The princess's proclamations of honesty rang true, oh, they did, they did, but how could anyone hold such feelings for her? Her, the daughter of death, born of flames? An empty shell? Verity's words were a siren's song, and one Iskra had wished to listen to throughout her entire life, too, except that... well. That was kinda the point of such a song, wasn't it? It had to sound alluring, really, otherwise it wouldn't be able to draw her to her own doom.)

(To trust her or not, that was the question. Every fiber of her being screamed that, yes, yes, the answer was yes! Yet, simultaneously? The very same parts of her recoiled in disgust, and advised her to stray from that path. 'Are you truly this stupid, Iskra?' some voice snarled in her head. 'Shame on her, yes, but also shame on you, for falling for the same trick twice! If you were going to miss your chains this much, you never should have left the Vessel's service. Wouldn't that be more honorable than choosing a fallen princess?' And, no matter how she looked it, that analysis checked out. You could take a woman out of the prison, but never the prison out of a woman, huh? Forever, it seemed, the pirate would be repeating these patterns, clinging to the soothing certainty of servitude. Do this, do that-- infinitely easier than having to think for herself, indeed! ...even if the only reward that awaited her at the end of that journey was a noose, woven out of her own dreams. You know what, though? Maybe that was fine, too. Maybe it was fine because, despite everything, Iskra had chosen to trust her princess. The universe may have been cold and apathetic, and full of horrors beyond what her imagination could conjure, but her heart didn't have to be, dammit. Rejecting the cynicism that had shaped her life could be a revolutionary act, too! So what if it only earned her more wounds in the end? At least, when Verity pierced her chest again, her blade would target an actual person, and not a rotting corpse. Having lived at some point simply had to be worth the pain, the pirate wagered. ...plus, perhaps she really wouldn't betray her. Who knew what their destiny had in store for them, after all? The stars only, and they wouldn't tell, so sometimes... sometimes, you just had to take the plunge, really. To risk it all, in order to gain something greater.)

"We shall see all of that," Iskra promised. "All of that, and even more. If a rainbow can be stolen from the sky, then I'll lay it at your feet, Verity, for you were the one who opened my eyes to its existence. Perhaps now I will open your eyes to the existence of wonders I am familiar with, too. Did you know there are flowers which sometimes turn into birds, and travel across the galaxy? A color that you can only see after you wash your eyes with water from a certain river? Dust that, when inhaled, shall give you prophetic dreams? I've seen it all, Verity, and... and you can, too. If you want to." The thought would have horrified her mere weeks ago, but... why chase after some grand purpose, really? Her whole mission had been tainted by failure, from the very beginning right to its inglorious end, which could only mean that the Shade was telling her to stop. Now, Iskra didn't plan to abandon it entirely, though perhaps a break was exactly what she needed! Sometimes, the very direction you had chosen was cursed, and you could hardly see that when all you did was walk forward. No, planning was of great importance, too-- planning, and reflecting, and all those things in between.

"Most of all, however, I'm looking forward to discovering miracles together. There must be so many wonders I haven't encountered yet! Do you think that--"

"Verity!" someone squeed, and gripped the aforementioned woman in a bone-breaking hug. Surprisingly enough, it was... Eran? Wow, she certainly didn't look as if she possessed so much strength in her stick-thin arms! "Sorry to disrupt your heartwarming reunion, but princess, I am actually seeking your help. It worked the first time around, you know? The stars really did bless us. I never got to tell you, but yeah," she gave Verity a bright smile. "The thing is, a certain captain doesn't get the importance of a grand ceremony. Like!!! She unironically suggested that we just 'get it over with' and marry during one of our usual drinking parties because 'everyone will be there, anyway.' Please, please, Verity, save us. You're our last hope!" And, her eyes? Those suggested that she was not exaggerating, indeed, for they were filled with genuine dread.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

In the recent months, almost parallel to the Time before she had ever come to know a pirate, her Life had lacked its spark. For so many of her days she had spent in the tight embrace of slumber––refusing to wake for Fear that her mind would only be full of her most cursed memories. Not that her dreams ever offered her reprieve, but back then she had assumed that Sleeping through the Pain was favorable to living through it. The smugglers she had met had somewhat pulled her from the monotony of directionless Sleep, but still her Life had been about going through the motions; living as a passenger in her own body while everything continued to move around her at a pace she wasn't quite sure she could keep up with. Then, just as the last Time her mind fell into Despair, the pirate came along and pulled her into her orbit––perhaps she should be frightened with Iskra's effect on her Life or perhaps she should examine it more carefully, but in this moment where everything feels sweet, she merely chooses to enjoy it. There is a LifeTime to worry. This moment is now.

Her eyes shine with the very rainbows that Iskra speaks of and the princess feels herself drawn further into the captain's pull––not that she minds, of course. This is just as it is meant to be, her heart is so, so sure of it. Oddly enough, perhaps knowing they shall never return the quest that brought them together, she has no Fear about stepping courageously forward into this unknown. 'Naïve or conceited as it may seem, but I think the stars have written our story already, for if entire planets and galaxies could not keep us apart... Then perhaps there is nothing we cannot conquer.' That is not say that Verity does not also step with caution, for she remembers her folly of thoughtlessness and how she had to reap what she sowed in the aftermath of their departure. This Time will be different, she knows that somewhere within her.

Eagerly, Verity nods along to each of Iskra's suggestions––finding each one far more exciting than the last and already wondering if they each have enough years left in them to find all of the hidden treasures of the galaxy and beyond. Not that it is a real concern on the princess's mind, but the thought they might waste another second not pursuing one of these grand adventures? Oh, well she nearly pulls on the captain's sleeve to take them towards her ship and set sail! Though she holds herself back and instead claps her hands together, "That all sounds lovely, Iskra! I want to experience everything there is to experience––I want my Life to be full for I am so tired of of filling my Life with the wants of Desires of others. There had been a Time where I thought that an adventurous Life would never be mine, with all the shackles of my responsibilities... but perhaps this exile is a blessing in that I am now free to do as I please." (For the first Time since her exile, in fact, the princess sees meaning in this new chapter. Before, she had thought her purpose was to get back to her planet––but as Time unravels as she does, she has seen distance between herself and that self-imposed mission... Now, it almost feels necessary for her to experience fulfillment by going after those silly fascinations of her heart; which surely cannot be that silly if it is her own heart that yearns for this adventure.) "And I cannot think of a better companion to be my guide. Perhaps, once we are done with the all the wonders we wish to see, we can search for new or lost ones! I feel that my heart will not rest until she knows everything there is to know about this existence."

So to say that Verity is entirely onboard with these suggestions, is nothing short of an understatement for she is not just floating along with these ideas, she is determined to make them happen! The idea that they may discover new miracles, together, excites her more than there are words to describe in the language that she knows. Once more she almost grabs onto the pirate's sleeve to pull her towards their grand new chapter, but then she finds herself squeezed and nearly lifted off the ground. The princess lets out a small grunt as she looks at the whoever is determined to break her like toothpick. "Eran! How lovely it is to see you again," she gasps out before she is let go and set back down on her feet. (It pleases her that she has not fallen out of this pirate's favor as that is a concern of hers if she will be among Iskra's crew again. She does not expect them to respect her just because they will be on her vessel, but she hopes to earn it again. Even if it means dueling Ylna every other evening.)

Anyway, her brief gratitude that some still enjoy her presence is interrupted as she processes what Eran is saying. Her eyes cut over to Iskra with the look of absolute horror on her face––one might sooner think that Iskra has dishonored her ancestors than threatened the sanctity of a wedding ceremony. (Unfortunately, she wishes she could say that she were surprised with the captain's regard for weddings but, alas, she cannot imagine Iskra understanding these nuances. No offense is meant there, of course, it's just that she once asked the pirate why she chose to match a certain pair of trousers with a certain shirt only to receive an answer that chalked up to, 'It's comfortable.' So, no, that Iskra does not understand things beyond convenience is not shocking.)

"Iskra!" she starts, about ready to lecture her on wedding ceremonies and the myriad of traditions that are sprung from matrimony but decides against it. Instead, her gaze softens and she starts again, much warmer this Time, "Iskra, weddings are a celebration of love. True, the drinking parties are convenient but weddings are not a matter of convenience. They are a show of a union so pure that the stars themselves get jealous." She turns to Eran, then, gravely serious, "Have you checked the star maps to identify a proper date? Of course, the stars shall change depending on our current positioning... So perhaps we ought to identify favorable locations in which the Cosmos will bless this union and figure out a date second. What customs and traditions do you and Saavika wish to uphold? I cannot say I will be familiar with them, but I shall not dishonor the traditions of your people with ignorance. No, no, no––I shall do proper research and ensure that your ancestors will approve of this most holy ceremony. Is there a custom of flowers? Or crystals? Do you have, uh, symbols to exchange? I must know everything, Eran."

 

[Syntra]

'Iskra,' Verity said, with a certain sharpness in her tone, and the pirate? Immediately, tension returned to her shoulders-- not an old friend, not by any stretch of imagination, but a companion for sure, one that had walked by her side for as long as her memory stretched. (What would come next? Reprimands, surely, but how severe would they be? Let them be the lashings of a whip, she prayed, and not the kiss of a sword. It wasn't that Iskra loved the whip, mind you-- no, in the right hands, it could be almost as painful as getting stabbed. Still, leather was kinder than steel, wasn't it? And her back, still covered in wounds, ached for kindness, even if it could only come to her as the less bad of two bad options. Just... there was no space on her for another scar, you see? Every square centimeter of her skin was marred, a canvas to numerous artists, and maybe Iskra didn't want to give up more of herself anymore. Yes, let it be a whip, she repeated in her mind, and let its touch be gentle. Like a blade of grass.) ...except that, as the pirate found out, Verity wasn't holding any weapon at all. Oh. Oh, okay. Visibly, the pirate relaxed-- there was a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and when it finally left her lungs, Iskra felt... exhausted, really, more than anything else. Almost as if she'd been running for ages. (Which, how ridiculous! Not even the Lyria fight had left her this winded, so she certainly had no justification feeling like this now. Was her own body trying to sabotage her, now that she'd found a semblance of happiness? Why? Had the Shade cursed her, out of some twisted desire to see her fail once again? ...either way, Iskra decided she wasn't going to chastise herself. What would be the point of that, after all? Regardless of its quirks, her body was hers, and it had done well enough to support her so far. Exceptionally well, even. Throughout countless battles, it had served her with grace, from which the pirate could deduce that it had a vested interested in keeping her alive! So, no, this was no self-destruct mechanism. It was what it was, and Iskra would learn to cope with it. Like a fledgling who was just mastering the art of flight, she'd understand it one day, too, but till then? Till then, she'd tolerate it. Live and let live, or something.)

"Hmm. Is there any need to make the stars jealous, though?" the pirate raised one eyebrow. "I mean, the whole concept seems rather silly to me. To awaken such malevolent feelings in entities so powerful, and all just to celebrate a wedding... tsk, tsk. Are you not aware that those who displease the stars are practically asking to be cursed? No ship whose crew has insulted them ever found its port. In fact, they usually found a fiery death!"

Eran shot her a glare that could only be described as 'unimpressed'. "You know what, captain? If the stars judge us so cruelly, I will take all the blame. That, at least, I can promise to you."

"Oh? Well, I can't say that such resolve isn't admirable," Iskra had to admit. "Very well, then. I will allow it." It was hard to say, however, whether her hypothetical disapproval would have had any effect-- by that point, you see, Eran had already turned to the princess.

"Ah! I see you are a woman of culture, Verity. Don't get me wrong, I do like this little gaggle of weirdos, but sometimes, they can be such boors. You couldn't explain the complexity of the ceremony to them if you drew it!" Eran shook her head. "Anyway, I'll try to explain. Our wedding will be... hmm, a hybrid between our peoples' habits, I guess. We don't want to elevate one above the other, since where we are from shaped us both. In fact," she blushed a bit, "we wouldn't have met at all had it not been for Inure and the captain and everyone else, so we wanted to incorporate that in some way, too. To sorta commemorate that."

"Saavika will mostly be taking care of the details that are important to her," Eran continued, with a big smile on her face. "In her culture, it's important that a bride makes her own wedding dress, so she'll be pretty pissed if you try to help her. Honestly," she leaned closer to Verity, in this secretive manner, "the woman will probably look like a clown. Not even exaggerating. I've seen her sew once and, uh, it wasn't pretty-- somehow, she managed to destroy the table, too. Don't laugh at her, though, okay? She'll be a clown, but she'll be my clown. Besides," Eran shrugged, "there won't be any pictures, anyway. Where I'm from, it's forbidden because it detracts from enjoying the moment. You're supposed to archive it here, you know?" she placed her hand on her heart. "Not inside of some machine."

Eran's brow furrowed, then, probably in great concentration-- there were so, so many things she needed to say to Verity, after all! "We aren't exchanging anything, no, but the wedding feast will be super important. Like, every course needs to be symbolic of something, you know? The starter has to reflect how we met, which means we'll travel to Saavika's planet and get some local food. I think I wanna try hunting a sarasha for that."

Hearing Eran's words, Iskra's looked up. "A sarasha? You know what these are, right? Eran, you can't possibly--"

"The dessert," Eran ignored her captain effortless practice, "will, on the other hand, reflect our wish for our shared future. Saavika has some idea for that already, but I'm sorta struggling with the main course. Do you have any suggestions, Verity? And, oh, if there's a wedding custom that you particularly like, feel free to share it! As I've said, I'd like to add little nods to my companions as well, and you," she smiled sweetly, "are a dear friend. And, ugh, no, we haven't picked a date and place yet. I swear, there are so many details that have to be accounted for! I don't fucking get how anyone can plan a wedding without, like, dying in the process."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Vaguely, Verity realizes that her initial harshness has an effect on the captain. She doesn't understand the reaction, because she hadn't thought it to be all that awful, but it is enough that the princess makes a note of it along with a reminder to be gentle. After all, this is a woman who she wants to keep in her Life for as long as Time will allow and pushing her away with her tone is not how she wants to lose the pirate. It is part of how she lost her before and she would be a fool were she to make the same error twice. Besides, how can she truly fault Iskra for not understanding this? Admittedly, it is surprising given all of Iskra's past romantic gestures ranging from gifts of flowers to chivalrous promises; in fact, because of those gestures, Verity might have thought that a wedding would be as much a value to the pirate as it is for herself. Clearly, she is wrong and though she has no intentions of trying to change the captain's mind, she will absolutely put forth her every effort to ensure that Eran and Saavika have the most spectacular celebration. If that alone does not convince Iskra of the importance of a celebration, then she does not think mere words would ever touch her. No, no, a wedding must be experienced.

"You misunderstand, my captain, that the goal is not to make the stars jealous––that is foolish as you say. You see, by confirming the position of the stars in the sky, we can ensure that the jealous ones are turned away and the others will twinkle favorably. Stars may be powerful, but remember their existence is most lonely with all the distance between shining sisters. We people have a most rare union that the stars themselves can never experience so we mustn't rub it in the faces of the bitter stars," she explains, moving her hands emphatically to express her point more accurately. Or, it's more than likely, she is excited and swimming in the information she has on weddings––she'd share it all if there were more Time and if Eran had not already moved onto discussing the sacred traditions.

Nodding to every detail and etching each one into her mind, she commits this all to memory. None of this shall be forgotten as Verity will not be responsible for helping plan a failure of a wedding. She will not allow it! On her honor, this will be a celebration to end all celebrations. (Aside from her genuine enjoyment in weddings, there is also the desire to show the rest of the crew that she is not so awful. That she is kind. If she can pull off a party of this magnitude, to celebrate the union of two of their own, perhaps more will warm up to her once again.) "Oh, I adore all of this. If you must hunt this 'sarasha,' allow me to assist. It is tradition among my people that the princesses supply quarry for feasts." (Does the princess notice Iskra's hesitancy with going after a sarasha? Yes, she does. That, perhaps, is why she volunteers to help. Not to give the poor captain a heart attack, but she imagines it being a rather impressive beast to hunt and, hm, maybe she wants to impress the pirate.)

"As for the main course, let me deliberate on that and get back to you. There are a number of dishes that I think to be appropriate for this wedding––though, admittedly, most of my suggestions will be related to seafood so if you care not for those delicacies, I shall need to know so I may refer to other dishes," she says, taking Eran's arm in hers as she heads towards no direction in particular; she simply feels as excited as a schoolgirl and cannot help but to run off with her friend and giggle about weddings. "Oh, trust me, I haven't a clue how a single woman could ever orchestrate such an event so I am happy to be of service. As for a wedding tradition..." she smiles mischievously, "Well, 72 hours before the wedding, it is custom to bind yourself to your betrothed and go those 72 hours connected to one another. A true test of your abilities in communication and compromise! I shall provide the binding agent should you choose to partake in this tradition."

..............​

In the coming days, the flurry of events nearly blends the week into a single day with how rapidly everything moves. In one moment she had been sharing a terse goodbye with Halen, receiving the belongings she had left on Cynosure, and in the next she is arguing with Iskra over who should have the captain's quarters. (In the end, they agreed to relinquish it to the most senior member of Iskra's crew, Myrne. Though Verity may not like the woman, she is an elder and elders deserve respect.) There had then also been the issue of reconciling with the ship after Verity's stunt with her crew of smugglers––and generally cleaning Inure up. However, what occupies a majority of the princess's Time is planning the wedding. While the pirate and princess had shared talks of grand adventures, since Verity has deemed herself the head planner, the wedding takes precedence above all else and she sets them on a course towards Saavika's home planet.

Given how much the princess has agonized over the most minute of details, it's no surprise that as they walk through the markets the princess all but has a fit over whether they ought to purchase five or nine barrels of wine. ("No, no, six should suffice––but should there also be whiskey and rum?") A debate Verity is in middle of when she spots a woman, a presumed stranger, from the corner of her eye and the conversation stops as she follows the woman with her eyes.

"Hold that thought, Iskra... Will you excuse me a moment?" she asks, though it's mostly a courtesy warning before she breaks into a sprint, weaving through the crowd before she loses the woman to the throng of people. "Cressida! Cressida," the princess calls as she chases the woman into, of course, an alleyway. "You have something of mine and I want her back!"

"Oh?" Cressida asks, not at all sounding surprised that she's run into the princess. "Quite a ways away from home, aren't we, your highness? But if you wanted to keep that sword of yours, you should have taken better care of her when she was yours. She's made a fine companion for me and I'm not quite willing to give her up," the woman, smirks, putting her hand on her hip in a way that shows the aforementioned weapon. "Word to the wise, but you shouldn't gamble if you are not prepared to lose. Now––"

Before Cressida even has Time to react, the princess charges her and shoves her backwards into the wall. The woman grunts, surprised, but recovers herself quickly and then it's Verity's turn to be knocked around. Though when Cressida retaliates, she not only shoves the princess to the ground, she draws her blade and pokes it against Verity's throat. "What did I just say about gambling, you stupid princess?"