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

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Iskra's words hurt alright––once again putting her in alignment with all the other princesses she has ever served, and yet she never once served Verity. Those promises had been a pirate's promise to her prisoner. They had not been, never could have been, a knight's promise to her princess. Verity never regarded Iskra in that way so to suggest that somehow she is just the same, has just the same kind of power over the pirate is an insult to everything that she is in this moment. If the pirate let herself believe that she was a princess, sitting atop some lofty cloud and teasing the pirate from down below, then she is beyond hope––for her delusions make it seem as though Verity ever had power in this relationship. Everything, all of this tricky little dynamic they have, is the captain's fault! Verity will take no blame and no part in being like those other princesses, because those other princesses could have never been like her. While she may not know them, will likely never know them, she knows that their choices had been inspired by an insatiable need to feel powerful and Verity has never once wielded her title in a such a way. Even if those on the outside may disagree, she knows this truth and perhaps it's the only thing she can hold onto in this moment to keep herself grounded. To keep herself still here while disbelief seems to shroud everything else around her.

(How foolish she had once been to feel so guilty over the parallel that Iskra drew; but Iskra drew all those parallels on her own. She decided what Verity was before even asking the prisoner anything about herself. She decided, apparently, that Verity is a princess and with that label attached all those erroneous meanings to her name. At least those who are dragging her name through the mud back home actually know her and can drag it faithfully––not this bastard version of herself that pirate has painted. No, she won't feel guilt over being a princess. It is what she is, exiled or not. This comparison she will not anguish herself over any longer; if this is who the pirate believes that she is then so be it. So be it to her who thought she ever knew the prisoner. Who thought she could keep an animal happy behind bars. Who thought through conversation, flowers, poetry, and sparring she could somehow make up for taking away the one thing that every person has a right to––their freedom (nevermind how Verity overplayed her hand to get herself into this position). And to use her as a pawn in her own plight, asking her to sacrifice her people for Iskra's? Oh, how could she not have seen this all sooner? It was never audacity that inspired the captain, but dumb foolishness that seems to have led her astray again and again and again. Well, Verity does not plan on being around when this fool falls once more. If she wants the secrets to her people, she will have to figure out how to get them on her own, because Verity will not humiliate herself or spit on her people if this captain wants to paint false images of her.)

(Then, how foolish she had been yesterday for pledging herself to Iskra, to a pirate, to someone who will never have empathy for her people. Oh, she knows now with certainty that fixing the problems in her country are not her burden to bare, but how had she ever thought she could make up for that by making amends with this woman? Just because she killed her––she let that guilt inspire her when it had been her every right to do so, as a prisoner. To think she allowed yesterday to trick them, or at least her, into thinking there was hope. Once more those rose colored lenses have been broken in her eyes and this Time around she will let herself go forward blind, because seeing has never once helped her.)

Without so much as a warning, Verity's head snaps to the side in motion with Iskra's slap. All the fire raging inside of her stops––the flames do not die, mind you, but they are frozen somehow. They are just as stunned as she is and as a result the sharp sting that blooms across her face hardly registers. Thankfully, her hair somewhat obstructs Iskra from being able to see her expression or the tears that have automatically sprung into her eyes. She lets out a breath, something between a sigh and chuckle as her hands raises to touch her hurting cheek. Never once has she been struck before––aside from fights and battles where such would have been expected––but never once has she been struck for insolence. Even the queen who she once shared a tryst with, cruel as she is, had been nothing but tender with her while they shared their hearts. (And the only Time she struck Verity in anger, it had nearly been warranted given that she had found out about her betrayal.) So now she sees exactly who Iskra is when she has power over others. She is not a kind captain, willing to let her subordinates speak freely. No, she is as cruel as any other leader she has ever known––she only has a semblance of control and morals that only crumble around prisoners. Power truly corrupts the soul.

Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession, for a moment it looks like she is about to say something––to do something to get the last word. But she decides silence is her best weapon in this moment and she wields it as she would her trusted blade. She merely shrugs the pirate's coat off her shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. With a steely look at the captain, one that can sear into the very depths of another's soul, she turns and gives the pirate that space she so desires and returns to her cell. She truly has nothing more to say to this pirate. When Iskra eventually grows tired of the goose chase she will doubtlessly send her on, now that it is clear Verity had made a mistake to believe she owed this pirate everything, Verity hopes Iskra is as swift with her blade as she says she is. (She may have murdered Iskra, but she had done so with only the intention to save her people; she knew it was wrong and she regretted the action immediately. Perhaps she could have gone into this conversation with more tact, but that never gave Iskra license to raise her hand. At least, now, she can bury their past for good and do what she needs to do to protect her people from further exploitation while Halen saves them from the queen.)

.............
​

A few days later, a few long days of silence––Verity doesn't even think it's awkward or tense, it just is––they arrive at the next location for the trial. It's on some planet that she has never heard of, but doesn't bother asking questions because her curiosity has died around the pirate. She barely acknowledges the captain's presence more than she has to and it only feels natural. Words can never be shared honestly between captor and prisoner and they were deluded into thinking otherwise. (Verity wholly blames Iskra for the confusion, because at least she had been willing to play the role of captive whereas Iskra wanted to fool everyone into believing that captors can be kind, can be layered, can be worthy of seeing past their deeds. 'Pah, that was but a mere show to distract from reality. Isn't always?' After all, Beauty and Pleasure can only be used as a veil for the wicked.)

Anway, the entrance appears before them when presented with the diamond shard the ethereal woman had given to them at the end of their last trial. It stretches high above their heads and looks out of place against the rest of the planet's ambiance––probably because the aesthetics of her people are so different from the aesthetics of others. Though she does not even marvel at how ornate this door is, with a mosaic that shows the outline of a person's head and within this head the mosaic shifts from pictures of trees, to seafoam from the ocean, to rainbows––she doesn't even care to figure out what it means. She figures they will find out soon enough––not that it matters as Verity doesn't really think she wants to be helpful. 'I cannot believe she is still trying to claim this for herself. Does she really think I'll help her now that I know she's just as prone to Violence as any other tyrant?'

 

[Syntra]

Iskra, of course, didn't expect Verity to forgive her-- that would have been absurd, almost like, hmmm... oh, yes! Thinking that a victim could ever forgive her murderer, or something similarly stupid. To be truthful, the pirate didn't even want her to do that. That had been the entire point of the slap, you know? To sever what had once been between them, and to sever it for good. To step on the on rare flower that had blossomed in her heart, for its roots had been false. (Now that she saw what Verity truly thought of her... oh, how stupid had she been! Never once had the princess seen her as anything other than a thing to use-- kind of like a music box, really, except that, instead of music, Iskra had been there for pretty words. For pretty thoughts, wrapped in pretty imagery. 'Amuse me,' the princess had commanded, and she had, and... and frankly, this would have been fine. Why not, after all? Service was to her what breathing was to others, so becoming what Verity needed wouldn't have been a burden. No, quite the contrary. It would have been a relief, you see-- a comfortable pattern to follow, or perhaps a map with no blank spots. Who was she? What was important to her? What drove her? All those questions with their sharp, sharp question marks would have gotten shoved under the metaphoric carpet, as they wouldn't have mattered at all. Just like clay, Iskra would have allowed herself to assume the shape Verity preferred, and swept everything else from her mind. Beautiful, right? Beautiful in the same way water was beautiful-- transparent, changeable, nothing without a space to contain it. ...the prisoner had crossed a line, though. In her foolishness, she had claimed Iskra wasn't a thing, wasn't something to be owned, and, Shade Forbid! Iskra had believed her, for some stupid reason. Not wholeheartedly, of course, since her eyes weren't this blind to the truth, but something within her had dared to hope. Carefully, shyly almost, that little plant had fought its way into the sunlight. Fresh leaves had sprouted from the soil she had thought barren, too, and never before had Iskra seen a more vibrant shade of green-- except perhaps in her dreams that may or may not have depicted her home. Ah, how stunning, indeed! ...winter cared not for her joy, though. Its winds came, carried by the realization of just how much Verity had lied to her, and the flower withered. ...a poor, poor thing. With someone as empty as Iskra, it had never stood a chance, had it? Its corpse was rotting inside of her now, and filling the air with this terrible smell, and... and Verity reminded her of its short-lived existence, every time she looked at her.)

She couldn't stand to look at her.

Not anymore.

Hence the slap, you see? Someone as proud as Verity, Iskra figured, wouldn't want to be around her after she had demeaned her so. A single movement of her hand, and she'd be free from her questions, free from her accusations, free of her, in general. A cause for a celebration, indeed! (...why did she feel so terrible, then? As if another blade had pierced her heart, except that her own hand had guided it this time. An entirely new brand of pain.)

"Captain," Myrne looked up from her notes, "shouldn't you... talk to her?"

"Talk to whom?" Iskra asked, not even bothering to meet her eyes. (The starmap on the wall? Suddenly, it seemed very interesting. The most fascinating thing she'd ever seen, perhaps! Where could this constellation be found, again? Hmmm, hmmm, maybe she should--)

"Are we really going to play this game?" the older woman sighed. "You know very well who I meant. I know what transpired between the two of you, just for the record. Everyone does, for even the walls have ears on this goddamn ship. Are you sure this is wise?"

"I... You go talk to her, if you want," she suggested, with all the warmth of an arctic blizzard. "I meant every word." Every slap. "I don't regret what I did, so there is no need for me to apologize."

"Oh?" Myrne smiled. "I said nothing about apologies, though. Why did your mind wander there, captain?"

"..."

***

Oh, by the Shade. This cannot be true! Please, please, let me wake up and discover this is just a bad dream, Iskra prayed, fervently. The gods had forsaken her people centuries ago, though, so when Inure landed? It landed in the one place Iskra never wanted to visit again. Ashes cracked under her boots softly, kind of like snow-- except that, underneath, there wasn't new life that waited for spring. No, there was just pain, and bones, and the blood that had colored the soil red, but still, still Iskra didn't lift her gaze! For in the sky, that dreadful moon hung. "Don't look up," she recommended to Verity, in a voice that didn't sound like her own. (How long had it been since she'd spoken to her? Days, undeniably, but somehow, it felt like years. ...no, the pirate didn't miss her. Lies were all this princess had ever fed her, and she had had enough of that diet. Let them be enemies if that was what they had to be, then! Better than Verity smearing honey on her lips, only for her to bite them off later.) "The sky... it's abnormal. It will hurt your eyes. Burn them, if you let it." Thankfully, they located the temple of Verity's people swiftly-- partly because the style was so distinct, partly because there just wasn't anything else. (This region, Iskra supposed, was beyond saving. A barren moonscape, much like a reflection of her own soul. How come this place had survived, though? What kind of technology did they have at their disposal? With these questions burning a hole through her tongue, the pirate entered.)

The room was empty, aside from the sparkling pond in the center. Many carvings adorned the walls, yes, but what were they to do with them? Perhaps they meant to convey a story of sorts, but Iskra understood it not-- they were abstract, geometrical shapes rather than pictographs, and didn't speak to her imagination. "Princess," she asked, "can you tell what these symbols mean?"

Whether she could or couldn't, however, that didn't matter-- mostly because, with a loud splash, a faceless woman emerged from the pond. (She, too, was beautiful. Starlight hadn't created her like her sister before her, yes, but she was one with water, with her skirt made of seafoam and seaweed instead of hair.) 'Welcome, seekers,' she said, in a voice that reminded Iskra of the whispers of the sea. 'Welcome, welcome. The wayfinder, is it not? Very well. In this trial, you shall bare it all. Can you stand the thought? If so, discard your clothes, and let me embrace you.'

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

'This planet is a wasteland,' she thinks, though her thoughts do not stretch beyond that. She has no wonderings about what happened or if there is even any hope for flowers to grow from ash. The only curiosity she really has is if the first world looks like this now. Or if its end was not in fire, but fissures that ran so deep it split the planet in two. Either way, she is strangely removed from her current whereabouts, most likely because the stain on Inure is standing right beside her. (So funny how she had been coming around to the idea that the pirates were not parasites, but caretakers of another origin. Now, with everything that has transpired, the prisoner has rescinded her brief thought that Inure can rest easily in inept hands.)

While she hears the pirate's warning, she does nothing to acknowledge it other than through heeding it. Ordinarily such a recommendation would have immediately had Verity flying in the exact opposite direction, because it's only natural to want to stare in the eye of danger and assess the opponent for yourself. However, for reasons unknown, even that reaction is as quiet as the prisoner herself.

They step into the temple and it immediately reminds Verity of home and she frowns, the dull ache in her chest suddenly sharpening itself against whetstone as her eyes sweep over this new arena. One that really doesn't remind her of the arenas common to her homelands, but of the spiritual chambers used to enhance connection with the ancestors. With that association the descendant worries that if this trial requires a trip to the Ether that she will surely fail (once again). However, the water sage says nothing of this in her welcome and only invites them both to join her, with the warning that they will have to bare all. Still wordless, still with her eyes forward, she does not hesitate in removing her garb, discarding each piece of clothing like shedding snakeskin. Without waiting for Iskra, she steps into the pool until she is standing in front of the sage, with just her head and shoulders poking above the water.

Knowing what is expected now, Verity floats herself on her back and the water sage beckons Iskra to do the same. Once both seekers are in position, the sage places her watery fingers on their foreheads. Verity closes her eyes just as the water woman's own begin to glow.

A scene presents itself in Verity's mindseye. Instead of being in a pooling chamber, she is now fully submerged underwater. When she looks in front of her, she sees Iskra and behind the pirate there is a light that calls to her and tells her to swim towards it in order to find out what it means to accept. Similarly, there is a light behind Verity that also cries towards the pirate and begs her to come forward.

When Iskra inevitably does as she is told, she will find herself emerging from the ocean and climbing onto a pier. A little girl will be there to greet her; this girl looks to be no more than five and resembles what one can imagine a young Verity to look like; except that this girl has distinct difference that make her, well, not Verity. Her hair, for example, is about three shades too dark; the birthmark above her lip is missing; and, the most telling evidence are her golden eyes. Whoever this little girl is, she will take Iskra's hand and guide her through the city that is attached to the pier. In this city, with its oddly shaped buildings that zigzag and twist as they stretch towards the Cosmos, the streets are suspiciously quiet. Come to think of it, there hardly seems to be anyone about; the figures that line the streets all seem to be frozen in place and Time. The most interesting thing about these figures, however, is that each one is Verity––at different stages in her life; some show her mid-laugh with an unseen audience; others show her carrying bags of groceries; some show her hiding in the bushes under what appears to be a classroom window. The little girl walks past all of these Veritys and seems to be going towards a specific one located in the residential part of the city. Here, there is a teenage Verity, rain soaked, carrying a child against her hip and she seems to be speaking with someone through an intercom. The little girl taps this Verity and suddenly the eerie stillness of this city drops and Life is breathed into the scene.

.............​

Storm clouds cover the sky above and they are so heavy with rain they are practically black; there is no evidence of sunshine despite the clocktower indicating that it is midday. The only light comes from lightning itself and the wind whips around them––them being Verity, the infant she is carrying, and about six other children huddling close to their second eldest sister. In this group of children, the oldest appears about ten and the ages seem to descend in twos.

"Miss Ava––sorry to bother you, but can we stay with you tonight?" Verity chooses to leave out the reason she is seeking safety in a neighbor's home, but she also knows it simply goes without saying why she is there.

The woman, Miss Ava, responds through the intercom, "Oh, yes, yes, of course––your mothers are good friends and their lot is always welcome here. I'll phase you in."

The scene shifts and suddenly Verity and all her siblings are inside a small one bedroom apartment. All of them are shivering and wrapped under towels strewn with holes, whose cotton is so worn it feels like sandpaper against her skin, but Verity appears mostly grateful to be out of the rain. Ava passes them each a mug of hot broth and each child offers a thank you before taking a half step from the kitchen into the living space, where Ava's own children are playing. Soon, screaming erupts among the group, but neither Verity or Ava appear bothered or concerned. Instead, with the children distracted, Verity and Ava both sit at the table in silence.

"You know, this is the worst storm we've had in years... Have you heard from your mothers? Priscilla?"

"... No, but I trust they will return. I trust the ancestors, sages, and Divinities all are watching over them," despite her apparent conviction, her words sound empty and she stares down into her mug, letting the steam rise up to warm her cheeks before her fingers sap away its warmth. "I didn't want them to go, but what other choice did we really have, you know? Grendel has been so stringent about making sure we meet the demands of the contract on Time and, well, she finally pulled everything from us. But I promise this will only be for tonight. I have a feeling, by the end of tomorrow, we'll have this all sorted out. I just have to speak with her."

The older woman's expression remains neutral though her eyes suggest a frown. "I am glad to hear that your hopes are still alive. Hope is a dangerous thing to have, but it is all that we really have out here, I suppose. May it warm you," she pauses, clearly mulling over her words, clearly struggling with how to deliver reality to a child, "hmm, nevermind. If you need to stay here for longer, you're more than welcome. Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, could you watch the children tomorrow? There's an emergency down at the clinic––apparently, the governess's daughter is ill and you know what that means: the world itself must stop to nurse her bitch of a daughter back to Health. I'm almost sure it's just a cold––those upringers are such babies about their ailments. I often wonder what they'd do in our shoes."

---​

Once more the scene changes, flashing through the rest of that first evening with Miss Ava and shifting to the morning with Verity trying to wrangle and corral the children into the living room. On top of her own sisters to manage, Ava has four of her own and while their families do get along, they are also prone to starting chaos. Ordinarily, Verity would send them outside to play, but the storm continues to rage on outside making that an impossibility (and quietly Verity worries for the safety of her family while they are out at sea).

"Please, hey––stop hitting your sister!" she calls out, clearly frustrated. She pinches the bridge of her nose and then turns around to check on another group of unruly children, only to purse her lips together and mutter, "Oh... Miss Ava is going to murder me," as she finds a guilty sprite coloring on the walls.

"Aria, Isla, Serenity, sprites––please..." the girl seems to give up as she watches the chaos continue to unfold in this tiny apartment––the wind outside must be attuned to the children with how wild they are all acting; climbing on couches, body slamming each other, and giving each other makeovers with make-up they really should not be playing with. "Oh, sages help me," she mumbles, again, pinching the bridge of her nose as she presses her back against the wall and slides down, defeated.

"Can't we please go play outside, Miss Verity? It's sooooooo boring here! I'm going to die!" one sprite says, full of drama as she drags her hands down her face, pulling her lower eyelids down. "I promise to not get sick! I will ask the sage, Health, to protect us all."

"No, no––that's not how Health works. You must stay inside––the wind might whisk you all away with how fierce she is," she says sternly, with her eyes closed as she tries to think of things to entertain these children for the next, she looks over at the clock, six hours.

Finally, an idea seems to come to her, and she gets up from the ground and walks over to the kitchen. She beings to pull out ingredients from the pantry, setting them out on the large round table in the kitchen. Without announcing what she is doing she begins measuring out careful portions of flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, eggs, some anise, into separate bowls and one by one the children start to come over to her. They all have questions about what she is making and they all wonder if it is possibly for them––with how much sugar is going into this mystery treat, they all hope for a taste. "Well, if you all help me, I think I can manage to share some of this treat with you all..." Enthusiastically, the children all agree and Verity assigns them small tasks to do and teaches them how to bake these anise flavored muffins.

During all of this, she also decides to entertain the children with a story––the first story she has ever told and the start of her journey as a storyteller for the neighborhood. "Do you all know what dragons are?" the children shake their heads, "I thought not, because they do not exist here. But on other planets, I have heard that they soar across the skies and protect precious treasure. They are giant beasts, with fangs that are as tall as myself! I've heard some are so large their wingspan can cover the sky, but what makes them most fearsome, as if that all is not enough, is their ability to breathe fire. But they were not always so large and they could not always breathe fire. They started out as lizards, you know. Much like the ones that skitter through the streets when the weather is warmer. So you see how tiny they used to be? Not very frightening at all and certainly not ferocious enough to guard treasure.

"So just how did lizards become so large and learn to breathe fire? Well, their path to becoming dragons was inspired by their need to protect their own––see, lizards were being mercilessly hunted for their eggs, a delicacy among the local peoples, and were nearly at absolute extinction as a result. There was one lizard, in particular, who was fed up with not being able to defend her loved ones so she begged her deity, the sun, for guidance. The sun, seeing how grief stricken this lizard was, decided to impart a little known secret unto the lizard. She told the lizard how to harness the power of the sun itself and that if she were worthy of such a power, she would be able to protect all that is important to her. To test her worthiness, she had to swallow a sunflower whole––but it had to be the largest one, the one with a stalk so tall that the head of the flower scrapes the Cosmos. If she could manage that, she would become the most formidable opponent in all the lands. The lizard thanked the sun a thousand times over and went to search for this flower.

"She scoured the globe, searching in fields of sunflowers for the tallest one she could find; one that scraped the Cosmos like the sun said, but it seemed an impossible task. There just were no sunflowers that tall! This brought her grief, one that nearly had her going mad but she never once gave up! She kept in mind all the things she loved and pushed onward and onward. Until one day, she collapsed, exhausted from her search. As she was slipping into unconsciousness the lizard felt the earth below her rumble, but she hadn't the strength to move. She thought surely the planet was going to consume her, but she found that, instead, she was being pushed up––that something was lifting her higher and higher into the atmosphere. Alarmed, she looked around her and saw that she was now sitting atop a giant sunflower! When she looked over the edge of the still growing flower, she saw that the planet was so very, very far away. She realized, then, that this is the flower she is meant to consume to harness the power of the sun, because soon she felt herself sandwiched between this flower and the Cosmos! Excited, and in all her eagerness, the lizard opened her mouth wide, wider than she even knew she could, and swallowed this flower just as the sun had told her. Though the moment that she did this she began to fall from the Cosmos back towards the planet, since she could not balance on the thin stalk that once supported the head of the plant. However, that did not scare her, for with the sunflower swallowed she could feel herself changing; she could feel herself growing and growing and growing until she was nearly twenty-six times her usual size! Not only that, but she grew teeth and horns and talons so sharp a look alone could cut you. Wings sprouted from her back and she found that she could fly and that allowed her prevent herself from crashing towards the planet. And that sunflower she had swallowed? Well, it became a miniature sun lodged in her throat and when she opened her mouth, flames danced off of her tongue. With her new size, new wings, and fire, she vowed to protect her sacred treasures, such as her eggs. And so you see, that is how the first dragon came to be."

Once the story is finished, the scene shifts through a flurry of other memories––all of Verity telling stories; first in Ava's home, with only her sisters and her neighbor's children as her audience. Then, over time, she begins sharing her stories, eventually her poems, with larger and larger audiences. Moving from the homes of friends, to small cafés, and eventually getting herself a spot in larger competitions. Though the stories she tells are muffled, her influence is clear. An observant eye may notice the hooded figures who begin to attend her later shows.

 

[Syntra]

Bare it all, huh? What kind of trial was that? Not that Iskra was complaining, mind you, but she just... didn't see how nudity would help determine whether she was worthy of the wayfinder of not. (Could the woman perhaps see her character written on her skin, in the same way she could see words on the pages of a book? It must have been something like that, Iskra was sure, for she doubted this was about appearance. Oh no, no, no. An ugly scar or two couldn't destroy your chances-- not when, so very often, scars were the proof of experience. 'Look at me,' they said, 'and marvel over what I've gone through. What I survived, without shattering.' ...her soul, though? That was, uh, a different story. Shattered it was, thousand times over, and put back together-- a cheap mosaic of pieces that didn't quite fit, connected with cheap glue. And, in time? In time, it would fall apart entirely, just like all things did. Nothing in this galaxy could resist the grind, the eternal tendency towards emptiness, and Iskra... Iskra drew some semblance comfort of it, strange as it was. One day, this would end, too! She would end, regardless of the Shade's will. A human or a god, a lion or an ant-- before Time, all were powerless, and reduced to prayer. 'Not today!' most of them begged. 'Please, today,' Iskra asked. 'Let it all turn into dust.'

Without uttering a single word, the pirate slipped out of her clothes-- she did it swiftly, without a hint of shame. (A lot of women, Iskra knew, considered nudity to be something intimate. Something you'd show to your partner, you know? Undressing, in the eyes of many, was part of the ritual that led to... uhhh... consummating one's feelings. Considering the context, Iskra could easily see how that would be awkward, yes-- except that her body hadn't been made for such acts. Why pretend it had, then? This particular meaning didn't apply to her, and never would. Associating it with herself would be terribly presumptuous, just like... well, just like crafting polite rejections in case a pretty princess ever confessed her love to you, when you'd never even been on said pretty princess's radar. ...when, all this time, you'd been something gross stuck to her shoes.)

The water guardian, at least, did embrace her-- her arms were cool and pleasant to touch, like silk almost. (Getting lost in there, the pirate thought, wouldn't be that bad. Perhaps, if the woman dragged her to the bottom of the pond like the nymphs from stories, she would turn into a fish! Or into seafoam, so airy and beautiful, for her to decorate her skirt with. Still, still she'd be a thing, yes, but oh, with such a peaceful purpose! Miles away from all the bloodshed and ruin and all the things that made Iskra Iskra, really. Would it not be freeing, to shed her duties like that? As if they were but old skin-- a shell she had outgrown, somehow, while trying to figure out where to go from there. A uniform she no longer needed, maybe. ...if the woman asked her, would she stay? Would she serve her, her body and soul? Because, oh, everything in her itched to serve! To serve, and spill her blood, and finally be good for something-- to do what they'd designed her to do, long before she'd seen sunlight for the very first time.)

Predictably, the woman asked no such thing of her. Instead, there were flickering lights, and this sensation of ghostly fingers rummaging through her head, and it was cold, cold, oh so cold-- a piece of steel jammed in her brain, in truth. (What was it? A needle? A transmitter? Perhaps both, or perhaps something else entirely. The pirate just knew it pulled on her, and that she had to feed this beast, and... and that nothing but a piece of her would do, for it was hungry for her flesh. Very well, then. Choke on it, for all I care!)

***

Verity, too, received a guide. When she appeared in a forest, with trees so high that the human eye couldn't even see the treetops, someone tapped on her shoulder. Could it be...? The person certainly looked like Iskra, but at the same time, there was something distinctly not-Iskra about the way she carried herself-- this peculiar lightness, as if no weight could possibly burden her. Almost like wind itself! She pointed at her lips, and then shook her head vehemently. (Couldn't speak, huh. Yet another difference from the Iskra who painted whole continents with her with her words, oh so carefully! ...from the Iskra whose words could act like arrows as well, merciless and precise. Both of those dualities were gone now, drowning in the silence.) The pirate's not-twin then motioned at the princess to follow, and waited not for her response. Instead, she ran, swift like a cheetah, jumped over the roots sticking out from the ground, and--

The scenery changed. The lush greenery of the forest? It gave way to the monochrome uniformity of a city, with machines quietly buzzing in the background. The sky was covered by a giant glass lid, too, with the sun rays barely getting through, and... oh. Oh, there she was! Iskra's younger self, sitting on the ground. She was surrounded by rows of other girls, roughly of the same age-- most of them seemed to be no older than in their teens, or perhaps very early twenties. So many of them were there! And yet, yet not a single girl dared to make a sound. Iskra, too, just stared forward, her eyes not seeing anything at all. (...or were they? If so, it must have been something her imagination had concocted-- the direction in which she was looking only contained featureless grey, spreading as far as the eye could see. It ate the scenery like a tumor, wanting more and more and more, and this place? This place had given up long ago, and only waited for its inevitable demise.)

"Precious Seeds!" a female voice called out. Its owner emerged from behind a curtain, clad in red and gold-- a sharp contrast to the girls, mostly dressed in rags. Clearly, this was someone important. "You've endured, over and over. Where others fell, you didn't allow yourself to falter. Where others turned back, you walked forward. Through storm, through fire, you walked. You've proved, indeed, that your shell is hard to crack. For that, you deserve all the recognition in the world. Glory to you, and to your fallen sisters as well! For they paved the path to your victory."

Hesitantly, someone in the crowd began clapping-- the red and gold woman joined her, though, and soon enough, the whole field was drowning in the applause. What a heart-warming moment, right?

"For that reason," she began, only for silence to envelop the gathering once again, "you shall be granted the greatest of gifts. Do you know what that is, precious Seeds?" A pillow materialized in front of each girl, apparently out of nowhere-- a very soft pillow, with a sharp sword resting on every one of them. "That gift, of course, is wisdom. Enlightenment, even. Today, you shall understand the nature of your purpose. Rejoice, for few get to enjoy this privilege!" Unlike many, Iskra didn't even bother to look down at her sword. Stubbornly, she continued to stare forward-- towards that mysterious something on the horizon that nobody else was seeing. The only sign of nervousness? The way she bit her lip, so much that her own blood filled her mouth. (The taste was metallic, and so, so familiar-- almost like a mother's milk, at this point.)

"That gift, Seeds, is the Truth. The Truth, pure and unaltered! And the Truth, of course, can only ever be found at the end of a sword. You know what that means, don't you? Find it for yourselves. Now. Find it, and answer the call of your duty. For the Holy Vessel!"

A fair-haired girl sitting close to Iskra sobbed, so loudly it was a wonder the cry didn't split the heavens. Swiftly, she threw the sword away, as if it was a disgusting maggot she'd found in her soup, and rose to her feet. 'No!' her eyes screamed. 'I won't do this, never!' Several of her companions stood up as well, but Iskra didn't so much as flinch-- not even when their bodies fell on the ground with a loud 'thump', red stains blooming on their shirts. How very synchronized! The Vessel's troops were impressive, indeed. (Eagles, they called them. Thanks to their eyesight, probably? As no prey could hope to escape an eagle, just like they couldn't hope to escape their fate.) "Unworthy," the commander (?) smirked. "Mere weeds growing among roses. See to it that their Shades are removed, for they aren't needed. The rest of you are wiser than that, right? You know what the price of obedience is." And, indeed, Iskra did know. How could she not? That was why, without a hint of emotion, she took the sword and buried it on her own stomach. Blood burst out from her mouth, like a waterfall of rubies, but she kept pushing and pushing, and--

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Once the memory has finished, the world they're in stops once more. If Iskra has questions, the little girl never answers for these are not her memories to share and thus she can have no meaningful opinion on them. Insights as well are not hers to give. So with the world frozen once more and all the Veritys in the memoryscape returning to their paused positions, the sprite takes a leap forward and the world rapidly shifts around them. When the girl's feet hit the ground a second later they're in a different city, that much is clear. The roads are better paved, the buildings, while still retaining their unique architecture, appear newer (shinier), and there appears to be an air of uppityness in the air. Even frozen, the new Veritys that line the streets––ranging in age from her late teens to early twenties––are dressed and painted in excess. At the heart of this city, there is a palace––or to an unknowing eye, a large ornate building that is shaped like a sphere with a bunch of other smaller spheres floating around it; it almost resembles a solar system of sorts. How interesting.

However, that is not where the little girl takes Iskra. Instead, she walks some distance away from the city's heart towards a temple––a temple that resembles the very one that Iskra and Verity are suspended in right now. When the little girl finds the Verity she is looking for inside of the temple, she taps her, and just as before the scene comes to Life.

.............​

The temple is located not at the heart of the city, but at what Verity playfully assumes would be the appendix. Though she has only visited the capital on a handful of occasions when she was younger, finding the temple had not been that difficult. If not for the fact that it stands out against everything else, but then for the well-informed entourage that now follows her wherever she goes (watching her every movement). The young princess doesn't really mind them, she supposes, they are just doing their jobs after all, but she certainly is not used to this level of supervision. She really only hopes that over Time they will warm up to her and will stop being so stiff. Especially her bodyguard, who she has already caught eyes for and likewise has caught the guard stealing looks at her as well.

"Osmunda, can you help me with this? I can't seem to reach the clasp," she says, turning her head halfway to look back at the armored woman. Her green gaze appears innocent enough, but there is something coy about the request as well––probably because it's easy to tell that Verity very well can reach said clasp.

The guard, Osmunda, fidgets in her position and swallows as she takes in what the princess is requesting. Her cheeks color pink and Verity pretends to not notice. The guard is tall with broad shoulders and her uniform leaves her arms completely exposed (already Verity has imagined what it would be like to be held by those strong, muscled arms at night). The attraction is clear on both sides, though Verity has not decided where she wants this to lead exactly. For now, she will revel in the attention and her teenage feelings. Besides, she doesn't really know Osmunda that well and so she figures this is all superficial.

Anyway, the guard steps forward, "accidentally" letting herself bump into the princess's backside before taking a step back and mumbling an apology. Gingerly, she sweeps Verity's chocolate locks over one shoulder and carefully touches the clasp, letting her fingers just brush against the princess's skin. Though despite the guard's apparent confidence, something seems to come over her, perhaps realizing what she is doing and just how impious her actions are and she freezes; her cheeks color once more and she holds her breath. It's not until Verity says, "You can breathe now," that Osmunda's shoulders relax and she steps away from her charge.

Verity offers the other a smile, letting her know she doesn't mind the caresses, and she turns back towards the pool in front of her; she slips out of her silks and they flow to the ground like ripples of water and pool around her feet. The princess steps forward and takes one step into the pool before saying, "Thank you. You may leave." (Of course, she knows that Osmunda won't and Verity doesn't actually expect her to.)

She continues further into the warm pool of salts and scented essences. The water ripples before it settles around Verity. The descendant ducks under the pool, submerging herself in the water. She taps something attached to her neck, something she must have already been wearing, and the coin-sized device blinks on and Verity takes a breath under water through the cybernetic modifier. Now ready, she begins her ritual and calls out the names of her grandmothers, "Alessandra, Cecilia..."

---​

When Verity emerges from the pool, some odd hours later, she taps the modifier attached to her neck and gasps as she switches atmospheres. Though it's not painful, it is uncomfortable––like a headrush when you stand up too fast. As Verity comes back to the temple, returning from the Ether, she finds that she is not alone. In the pool with her now are the two other princesses who were selected to serve Aurora. To her left is Halen and sitting across from her is Seraphina. Both seem to be engrossed in conversation. (Perhaps each of them sizing each other up and deciding whether or not they would like to be friend or foe.)

"No, I never got a chance to attend that match, but I heard it was one of your best," Halen says.

"People only say that because it's where I earned my wings––but enough about me, look who's finally come back," Seraphina says, turning her attention to Verity. "I honestly did not know someone could spend so much Time up there––Halen and I didn't take nearly as long and we arrived after you."

Verity smooths her hands over her wet hair and smiles at the others. "Well, I didn't know I had company waiting for me," she says in a way that makes it difficult to determine whether she is relieved or annoyed. (Truthfully, she doesn't care. Though Verity may even be somewhat glad for their arrival; after all, she is curious to know more about these other princesses.)

"Admittedly, I usually wouldn't be caught dead in one of these temples, but you know, when in the capital may as well see the sights. Besides, apparently Halen's never been either and she's from here! I dragged her with me when I found that out––then when we found out you were here too and we decided to wait for you," she smiles.

The young princess does not know exactly what to make of any of this, but she does go along with it because since their arrival to the capital they have barely had the chance to get to know one another despite sharing a dormitory together. Their onboarding has been so busy that Verity honestly thought she may never get a chance to know either of these two. So far, all she really knows about them is that Seraphina has fought for most of her Life in the arenas to support her family back in the south and Halen is the descendant of a former queen. You wouldn't guess that just by looking at them, in fact you might assume their roles are reversed. After all, Seraphina has long strawberry blonde hair and each strand seems to fall perfectly into place. Her eyes are a clear crystal blue and her cheeks have a natural rose garden blooming on them; they are also heavily sunspeckled. Her figure also strikes Verity as one that would better fit a dancer than a lancer. (Her voice, too, is sweet like honey––Verity cannot even imagine her being as ruthless as her reputation.) When Verity first saw her, outside of a poster or commercial, she couldn't believe how much more Beautiful she is in person. She reads more as the descendant of royalty than Halen.

Verity means no disrespect by that either, because Halen is also Beautiful, but her Beauty is different. Sharper, if she had to put a word to it. The way she carries herself is that of a warrior's confidence––one that dares anyone to step in her way. Her shoulders seem to bear the weight of the world and her features are so hardened that it's hard to imagine she has expressions outside of 'disappointed and not surprised.' Her cheekbones sit high on her face and are so sharp they could cut through an army and her jaw... It's strong as well and makes Verity wonder what it'd be like to make a throne of her face.

If nothing else, Verity has decided that these girls are easy on the eyes and she doesn't mind having to spend so much Time with them for the next however many years. (The projection they were given is between five and seven years before they will have to face each other in the trials.) In the meantime, the princess decides she will make the most of their shared path.

"I appreciate that. I was," she pauses and contemplates what she wants to say next, but she doesn't stay silent for more than a beat, "curious if we would ever have the chance to get acquainted; they really have us busy from dawn to dusk."

"Of course they do––if you can't handle this, Verity, then are you really sure you can stand being queen someday?" Seraphina asks, the jab hidden between her sweet syllables. Verity nearly misses the attack, in fact. "Honestly, I can't believe they actually picked you to serve. It's been so long since we've had a princess from the west, let alone a queen. No offense, but you people don't typically have much to offer. And that they picked a commoner? That's just so interesting, don't you think, Halen?"

Halen doesn't respond, but she eyes Seraphina carefully.

"I suppose you'll give us a fresh perspective, if anything, Verity," the gladiator princess continue as she rises from the water and motions the other two, "C'mon, I'm getting bored and wrinkly just sitting here. Let's see how many people will stop what they're doing to bow at their new princesses while we stroll through the rest of the city."

 

[Syntra]

Iskra's eyes closed, and with that? With that, chaos seized control. The buildings began to crumble, as if they'd been made out of mere sand-- the ever-present greyness stained the sky as well, and glass shards rained down on the crowd. (Strangely enough, however, there was no panic. Nobody screamed in terror, nor was there any sign of them wanting to run away. No, they just... acted as if this wasn't happening at all! Like robots, they moved forward and forward and forward, stuck in their endless loop, and--)

Suddenly, Verity was standing somewhere else entirely. It happened within the blink of an eye, too-- in one moment, she was dodging the shards, and in the other.... hmmm. What was this, even? A palace of sorts, probably, but not the kind you'd imagine when you heard that word. Oh no, not at all. Everything about it was sleek and metallic-- again, wrapped in tones of grey, but this grey seemed purposeful. (The difference between poverty and minimalism, really. Poverty, after all, could rarely afford to be this uncluttered. The nothingness of this place was a statement-- 'Look how much space I am allowed to waste,' it said, with this grin on its metaphoric face. 'Look at how nothing can accentuate the best features of something.' Because, yes, that was exactly what was going on here! The strange machines sitting on pedestals, singing quiet melodies to anyone who was willing to listen in the background? Oh, those looked much more striking with the hall having nothing else to rest your eyes upon. Nothing else aside from, hmmm... Verity's Iskra-shaped guardian emerged out of the shadows then, a mischievous smile on her lips, and winked at her. (What was it supposed to convey? 'Hey, this is our secret,' or perhaps 'You have no idea what you're about to witness?' Without words, it was hard to interpret her gestures! Still, when she tugged on her sleeve and pointed into one of the corners? Her attention was meant to be directed there, surely, so... oh. Iskra.)

This Iskra seemed to be older than her previous iteration-- not by much, most likely, but older nonetheless. (...or could it be the clothes? Those could alter your perception significantly, too. When Verity had seen her the last time, you see, she had been wearing rags, barely sturdy enough to shield her from wind. Today, on the other hand? Today, she was clad in blue steel-- a perfect match with the castle's design, really. Like a gem in a shiny tiara, or perhaps a star in a constellation! Knights from fairytales paled next to her, truly, except that... well, her eyes had been as dead as they'd been before, when the commander had asked her to end her own life. The woman once again stared at nothing at all, probably lost in her own thoughts. She was alone there, too, with nobody to remove the weight of loneliness from her shoulders, till...

...till a dog materialized in the room somehow, via that magical ability all dogs possessed. You know, the ability that could be summarized as 'find the one place where you aren't supposed to go and investigate!' It was a small, black creature, almost drowning in its own hair-- the type to inspire pity rather than fear in potential intruders, indeed, for one had to ask how it managed to see at all. Right now, though? Oh, there was no doubt that it saw Iskra, alright. Even more absurdly, it decided that the guard was its friend! ...that, at least, seemed to be the conclusion it had arrived to, judging by the way it huddled closer.

"Oh. Um. You... you aren't supposed to be here," Iskra explained, clearly not knowing what to do. "It is forbidden for any citizen without the proper clearance to enter these chambers. So, uh... if you'd be so kind as to leave?" The dog seemed to interpret it as a request for cuddles, though, since it proceeded to lick her hand. Blushing furiously, Iskra retreated a few steps back. "A-ah! I know not what your intentions are, Mr. Dog, but I must ask you to leave. Who do you belong to?" That would have been easier to determine had it been wearing a collar of some kind, but nooo, of course that its owner hadn't bothered with that. "The kitchen? Do you live in the kitchen?" They had a cat there, Iskra knew, and so keeping a dog on top of that didn't seem like such a stretch-- perhaps this creature was meant to guard the supplies, which... oh. Which would mean this little dog was actually a deserter! Such a disgusting, disgusting crime.

"Listen," Iskra said, her tone growing stern, "if you abandoned your duties, I will show you no mercy." The proceeded to wag its tail, though, and... well, the soldier may or may not have pulled out a tiny strip of beef jerky from her pocket, and given it to the creature. You know, solely to earn its trust! It being cute had nothing to do with anything, naturally.

The following days were shown to Verity in a fast-forward flash-- nobody was missing the dog in the kitchen, or anywhere, really, and so Iskra reasoned she could maybe keep it. Dogs were reliable guardians, right? And even if this boy didn't seem to be much of a fighter, she just knew she could train him, in the same way her ancestors had trained the dragons of old. With some thoughtful guidance, his potential would shine! ...somehow. Probably. Iskra had ages to figure this out, after all, and--

Steps echoed across the hallway then, light but so, so resonant. (If fate could play a melody, it would choose something like this, the soldier thought. Something this... this...) From behind a pillar, a woman emerged-- a striking, beautiful woman wrapped in white veils, with her hair an even more blinding white and her eyes two sapphires. Sapphires that could cut, judging by the way she looked at her! "Iskra," she sang out. "What it is that you're doing here, my dearest?"

"I..." she lowered her eyes, "Holy Vessel, I was just thinking that..."

"Hmmm, hmmm. Thinking, is that so?" The woman tilted her head aside. "And what miraculous discovery have you made? Is being a scientist your true calling?"

"No! No, I am..."

"Selfish," she supplied, oh so helpfully. "Iskra, do you have any idea what it is like? Existing in this world while not being able to touch anything-- having to preserve my purity, and then watching you being this inconsiderate. I thought you were to help me carry this burden, instead of reminding me of my plight!"

"That wasn't my intention at all, Vessel. I swear. I..."

"Your promises, Iskra, are worth less than dust. Prove it. Prove it to me now." And, as the Vessel spoke? She handed a sword to the soldier, carefully, so that their hands wouldn't touch. "Kill the beast for me," she whispered into her ear. "I command you to do so." ...well. A command was a command, wasn't it? So, without hesitation, Iskra swung her blade.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

This time, when Iskra arrives at the next memory, she will find herself in the Wilds, outside of the protection of the cities. The landscape is dense with lush greenery; the air is thick and sticky; and there are no beaten paths for anyone to follow, as if no one goes out into the Wilds at all. And typically, they don’t.

Yet, despite that, Verity is running through this dense jungle, with a sword in hand. The sword buzzes and the blade seems to act something like a chainsaw. She hacks wildly at the bushes in front of her, trying to cut through the vines, dodging the plants that swoop down with hungry jaws, jumping over the moving roots that try to trip her——with how worried she looks you get the impression she is running from something. Which, she is. As Verity cuts through the foliage, the ground starts to shake beneath her and the sound of hooves thundering through the jungle can be heard some distance behind her.

(Okay, just what kind of trouble did the young princess get herself in exactly?)

The princess reaches a dead end in the jungle having run into a rock wall covered in roots and vines. While Verity scrambles to latch onto the fickle holds, a giant wild boar breaks through the clearing——on all fours, it’s as tall as the princess herself. This animal appears wounded, with its front hoof having been severed clean off and several bone spikes can be seen stuck in its backside. None of that, unfortunately, appears to have stopped or slowed it. When the beast spots Verity trying to scale the wall, it bellows out a strange cry, getting onto its hind legs before crashing back down onto the ground and charging the princess.

Knowing that certain Death is behind her and that climbing this wall is a fruitless task, she turns and braces her back against the obstruction. She appears to be muttering something, but whatever it is it cannot be heard over the boar. Verity closes her eyes, sword fisted in both hands and raised high, though it’s clear she doesn’t really have a plan beyond that. Maybe she is hoping that the boar will run into her sword and die before it can toss her body through the air and watch all her bones break on impact. Either way, it’s not an impressive stance.

When the boar is a meter away from her, it squeals but instead of rage, this sounds more like a cry of pain. The princess opens her eyes, unsure of what has happened and she immediately notices that the boar’s attention is no longer on herself, but the other princess who flies high above the animal’s reach. A spear is lodged in the animal’s neck and before Verity knows it, it’s suddenly flying out of the wound and back into Seraphina’s hand. The flying princess takes aim once more and this Time launches the spear between its eyes; the boar stills, appearing stunned and then it collapses with a thud. Seraphina lands in front of it and pushes her spear further into the animal, either to be sure it is no longer a threat or out of her own fascination with burying weapons in flesh sheaths. Eventually, when she’s finished, she twists the spear and yanks it out from the fallen creature.

She walks over to Verity, who is still shaking, the adrenaline having lapsed into terror as she stares at Seraphina with her mouth opening and closing, but no words come out. “A thank you would suffice,” the other princess says, hitting the signal beacon attached to her armor. “I watched you try to take that thing on back there. You really don’t know how to fight do you? Fuck, you probably don’t know how to kill, ” she says, tilting her head to the side. There’s something predatory about her gaze; is she thinking of killing Verity?

Verity is still speechless as she stares between the dead animal and her apparent savior. (Vaguely, this reminds her of a legend she knows. It’s an almost perfect parallel, because Amaryllis and Iris had been from the west and south, too, respectively.)

“Well…” the strawberry girl smiles, something that’s either cruel or mischievous or coy. “Let me show you. You’ll be out here all night otherwise and then the people will never have their feast, because one of their princess failed to fulfill her duties.”

---​

The duo are now hidden behind some bushes, spying on an unsuspecting boar. “Okay,” the gladiator princess starts, “this one should be easy, even a sprite could take it down. Tell me, Verity, what are its weaknesses? I can think of at least three.”

“Um,” she narrows her eyes, trying to see what the gladiator must see, but her eyes are not trained for this and she doesn’t even know how to make an educated guess. “I’m not sure,” she admits, embarrassment coloring her tone and cheeks.

The other princess rolls her eyes with a grin, “I figured you’d say that––you’d be so helpless without me,” she jabs Verity’s side playfully, “Just look at how it’s walking. It’s being careful to not put too much weight to its left side; I’d guess it’s had an injury that never quite healed. Also notice how it doesn’t even hear us right now––these beasts have notoriously good hearing, so that we can even whisper right now, this close to it, tells me it’s deaf or damn near. Lastly, and most obviously, it’s old––just look at its silver hair––so it’s probably slower and weaker.”

While Seraphina speaks, Verity listens and nods along with the lesson——awe shines in her eye at the other’s clear knack for combat and assessing her opponents. The inexperienced princess grips her sword tightly as her heart races, preparing itself to face one of these beasts again or maybe because she’s so close to the pretty princess. “Okay… and how might I, hmm, you know?” she whispers.

The other princess rolls her eyes, “Kill it? You just do it. Cut open its belly, slice its neck, pierce its head or heart, any of that will work. Hacking off limbs can work too, but you’d need to be quicker than you were back there. It’s not a damn science, Verity.”

“Really?”

“Yes, have you never cut into raw meat before? I’d understand since you’re a commoner, but if you have––it takes just about the same amount of strength. Anger can help too, but don’t get caught up in thinking about the animal. If it’s not strong enough to get away then it deserves to be slaughtered. Besides, this is to feed the people for the feast. Do you want them to starve, Verity?”

Verity shakes her head.

“Thought so. If it makes you feel better, just think about the end goal––I mean either way the animal is dying, such is the cycle.”

Nodding, Verity gets onto her haunches and begins to creep slowly forward through the brush. Reviewing Seraphina’s notes, she approaches the animal from its left and she can somewhat see what the other princess had mentioned before, bearing its weight to the right and all. While her heart races, she scoots closer and closer to the large creature. The creature doesn’t appear to recognize that there is an imminent threat approaching as it continues to graze through the greenery––so Seraphina must have been right about its hearing too.

Only once does Verity look back towards Seraphina in the bushes. She cannot see the hidden princess, but she steels herself wanting, for some reason, to impress her after all the help she’s offered. (Somehow, all the jabs either go unnoticed or they don’t bother her; although, it’s more likely that they only encourage her attraction to the mean princess––like winning her heart would be the world’s greatest accomplishment.) She turns back to face the boar. ‘Divinities, please take this animal into your care,’ she prays, then breaks into a sprint. As per usual, she has not really thought her plan through, but she assumes it will work.

When she nears the beast, she drops onto her hip, sliding on the ground and propeling herself under the giant animal with her sword raised and held tightly in her hands. She hits a button at the base of her sword, activating the chainsaw-like feature of the weapon. Though the animal must hear the buzz of her weapon now, it is far too late for it to act because as Verity slides under the beast, the sword slices into the boar’s belly with ease. Before it can even register what has happened, its insides are spilling from itself. It squeals, thrashes, and stumbles onto its side before falling over, lifeless.

Before Verity can even gather herself from the ground, Seraphina has already emerged from the bush and dashes towards her, helping the princess to her feet. “That was almost entirely stupid, and now I owe Halen some credits because I bet you were going to get yourself killed out here. I have to admit, though, that was impressive,” she says, beaming at Verity and it's obvious that it's genuine.

Verity clings to the compliment and the way Seraphina smiles at her; of course, she is offended that her and Halen had a bet about her Life, but she decides to focus on how she proved the gladiator wrong. And how she made her smile as a result.

Gingerly, Seraphina smooths her thumb over Verity’s cheek, wiping the blood from her face; she caresses her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. “It takes a lot to impress me, you know,” she smiles, suddenly getting closer––

 

[Syntra]

This time, the memory didn't dissipate. No, Verity simply watched everything happen in a fast-forward montage-- not that there were any twists, mind you. The guard duty wasn't especially eventful most of the time, so she usually saw Iskra just standing there, or practicing with her sword. The one constant to all of this? The loneliness, powerful and crippling. (To the inhabitants of the castle, the soldier seemed to... not exist, really. The staff paid about as much attention to her as they'd pay to the average statue, except they didn't even bother to dust her. And Iskra? Iskra never initiated any contact, either. Silently, she stood there, never so much as looking at anyone who passed her by. What did she think of the arrangement? That wasn't clear, either, for her face might as well have been carved from stone. ...was this some game they played, perhaps? Some rules appeared to be in place, but their nature was ambiguous, and shrouded in mystery. One day, however, the stereotype got broken-- and that was when the events slowed down again, too.)

"Iskra," the Holy Vessel spoke, and the woman in question raised her head to meet her eyes.

"Yes, your highness? Is there something I can help you with?"

"I have to say, my dear, that your services have been... most satisfying."

"Truly?" she blurted out, and immediately, her eyes widened in horror. "I... I mean, I didn't intend to question your statement. I was just..." she gulped audibly, "surprised, that is all. Since, so far, it has been fairly uneventful. You haven't had the chance to assess my skill properly yet."

"Oh!" the Holy Vessel chuckled and waved her hand, as if Iskra had just paid her a compliment and she was too bashful to receive it. "Iskra, my dear, it has been uneventful precisely because you it is you who is standing here. The rebels hear your name," she whispered in her ear, "and they dare not approach the palace. The memory of Shamtaranea is still fresh in everyone's mind! So, finally, I get to enjoy some peace. Isn't that wonderful?"

"...yes? Your highness," Iskra responded, carefully, for she apparently sensed a trap in that question. (Agreeing with her couldn't hurt, right? The only thing that monarchs loved more than listening to their own voice was having their words repeated, after all, and that she could do. Repeat, repeat, repeat! Just like water, Iskra would go with the flow, and everything would be fine.)

"Uh huh. However," the Vessel smiled, "it has been rather boring as well. Ah, the duality of the human soul! Sometimes, receiving what we wish for is our greatest curse. What do you think, Iskra?"

That question, at least, was simple enough to answer. "I wouldn't know, your highness. I am not human enough, as I'm sure you know."

"But of course! That's the best thing about you, my dear," she chuckled, happy sparks dancing in her striking eyes. "Humans are just so, so terribly boring. No sense of adventure at all, and so easily controlled by their insecurities." ...what was the point of this conversation, even? Usually, Iskra could sort of see ahead, in the same way one might guess their opponent's moves in advance in a game of chess, but this seemed to be beyond her scope entirely. (Perhaps, with some luck, the Vessel only needed someone to listen to her? To pour her thoughts into a container as empty as she was, and hear them resonate.)

"That's not why I came, though. No, Iskra, I have a gift for you."

"...a gift? For me?"

"Yes, yes! And for me as well, I have to admit-- it would be inappropriate for a mere guard to receive something while I remain forgotten. Surely you understand, don't you? Well, well! Don't make me prolong this more than I already have, Iskra-- I am very curious as to what you will think. Come with me, if you can." ...if you can, huh. What kind of choice did she have here? That of a droplet which decided to fall on the ground, or a wolf which decided to hunt. Ah, the beautiful, beautiful freedom! So much of it, indeed, that Iskra could choke on it.

Silently, the soldier joined the Vessel-- always mindful to stay at least three steps behind her queen, she walked forward. (Where were they going? The throne room, if she had to guess. That place was usually off limits to the likes of her, sure, but was there even anything else of importance in that direction? Iskra had memorized the castle's blueprint, to the point she knew it like the back of her own hand, and the throne room seemed to be the only point of interest.)

"Did you know, Iskra, that Death cleanses?"

"...I was under the impression that it stains, your highness. With blood, I mean. Blood and... other bodily fluids, occasionally. Such as urine."

For some reason, that answer delighted the Vessel-- once again, she laughed and clapped, and spun around until her skirts resembled a colorful whirlpool. "Don't you get tired of being so literal, Iskra? I don't dislike that quality of yours, but... pffft. Being so wrong all the time sure must be exhausting! Truly, you Seeds are lucky that you get to enjoy such firm guidance. Without me, you'd be lost. But, no, actually. Death cleans in the metaphorical sense-- all sin comes from the spirit, you see, and so it makes sense that I can touch that which already died. It is pure, unlike their living counterparts." With a flouring, the Vessel extended her hand, and painted a complicated symbol on the wall with her finger. For a while, nothing happened, but then? With a quiet 'b z z z' the wall retreated, only to reveal a hidden entrance. "What? Did you think I'd let you into the throne room? Tsk, tsk, Iskra. You're not nearly worthy enough yet. Still, don't be sad! We shall have a lot of fun together, you and I. Oh, you shall love it, I'm sure. You have to, for I know us to be kindred souls."

Not even daring to guess as to what might be awaiting her there, Iskra merely walked forward-- one leg followed the other, in the way it always had. (What a safety risk, the soldier thought. This place wasn't on the map! What if something happened to the queen while she was there, doing... whatever it was that she did? Unacceptable! It would be Iskra who would carry the responsibility in that case, and the Vessel must have known what that meant, and... oh. Oh, by the Shade.)

The room they entered? It was a graveyard, plain and simple. Animal corpses lined the walls, in varying stages of decay-- grave worms were feasting on the flesh, oh, they were, and the smell... the smell... "Don't you feel at home, Iskra?" the Vessel inquired, with a smile sharp enough that it could cut steel. "Your friend is here, too!" ...by 'friend', of course, she meant the dog. Who else could the woman be talking about, after all? It wasn't like Iskra had a whole lot of them.

"I don't have friends, your highness. I only have you. Serving the most holy of vessels is the definition of happiness, to me."

"The right answer, as always!" the Vessel exclaimed, in the tone of a proud teacher. "Still, a creature as steeped in death must feel at home here, no doubt. There's no need to feel shy about it, Iskra. We all have our little joys! ...but, that isn't why I brought you here, actually. I understand that your sword is thirsty for blood, isn't it? You haven't killed for such a long, long time. I've heard that, in order for a blade not to rust, it must be bathed in blood regularly. So, to that end..." The Vessel walked to the center of the room, where something was resting on the floor. (What was it? Iskra couldn't tell, really, for it was covered in a curtain. Judging by the shape, though? It could have been a box, or a cage, or... oh.)

A cage it was, alright-- a large, golden cage, with a sleeping, dark-haired child inside. "I've always wanted a daughter," the Vessel explained, "and I believe it unfair that Seiya gets one while I don't. So, I decided to correct that imbalance. Ingenious, right? Only, I still cannot hold her. Would you make it so that I can, Iskra? Pretty please? I know you've been craving it! That sweet, sweet taste of blood on your lips. Do it. Do it, for me."

With her throat tight, Iskra opened the door of the cage, and--

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

From inside the trial's pooling chamber, Verity thrashes and struggles against the prison of her own mind (or perhaps Iskra's? It is unclear exactly which she is struggling to escape). Her eyes burst open and the prisoner shoots from her dead float to standing upright in the pool. Her chest heaves wildly as she gasps for air, smoothing her hands over her hair while the smell of that foul vile room still clings to her nose. There seems to be no escaping it, each inhale doing nothing to bring in better scents and each exhale doing nothing to push the depravity from her senses. Even if she could rid herself of the stench, those scenes are so fresh, so vivid in her mind that she cannot help replaying them over and over and over again as if they are her own memories to reflect on. Or another ancestor's to cherish. Except, there is nothing to cherish about what she has been witness to. The prisoner, for a long while, remains in the pool, with her face ashen and blank.

When Verity finally clambers out of the pool, she refuses to look at the captain, the wretched pirate. Heat pools in her chest and threatens to burst from her lips like a volcanic eruption, but she bites her tongue until it bleeds because she does not have words for someone full of disease. (At first, Verity had almost let herself soften seeing that first memory of Iskra; even meeting that wistful guide inside of the memory plane almost drew out her remaining pity for the pirate. Both seemed so innocent; the one in the memory seemed so frightened despite trying to remain fearless. It would have been easy for her to see how the captain could have been a mere product of the environment she had been raised in; forced to commit cruel acts upon her own body. Yes, for a brief moment she saw an innocent and while Verity may still not have been ready to forgive Iskra, there was a moment where understanding could have been reached.

And then it was smashed. Shattered. Ground to dust and blown away with a gust of wind so as to never give her hope that this broken thing can ever be fixed. To think she had almost let herself fall into such stained hands. To think she had written poems about the captain's kindness, her radiance, the wisdom that flows like water from her mouth––how foolish she had been, yet again. Again and again this pirate has fooled her, misled her with intellect and pretty promises but Verity sees the truth now. So maybe she should thank Iskra for sharing the rot in her soul. There is no way she can help this woman now––as if she had not already restored her initial convictions that this parasite does not deserve the technology of her people, she is now hard set in her belief that only more cruelty will come if Iskra were ever to wield a relic as powerful as the wayfinder. 'All those conversations we had about choice and yet I see exactly what choices you have made Time and Time again,' she thinks, her thoughts continuing to stew in bitterness. Verity sees now just what choices this pirate has made; she has seen that she has selfishly chosen herself over innocents. Over an animal that had no crimes to its name; to a child.

A child. A damn child! Verity knows she has made choices that have led to the Loss of children, but never was it by her own hand––never did she give the order, never has she struck down something innocent or at least something not set on striking her down first. As shocking as that memory had been to live, it also makes sense. Perfect sense, because Iskra has shown that she will only violate those who have no means to protect themselves. Dogs, children, prisoners––they may as well be target practice for that wicked monster. (Had Verity picked up on Iskra's discomfort in each of these memories? Certainly. It had been hard to miss, but what does that matter when her choice to be an accomplice in the Holy Vessel's cruelty led to innocent blood spilling across that sleek palace? She could have been like that rebel girl in the first memory and taken a stand, but instead she chose her Life over the Life of innocents. That the captain is still alive, still roaming free, still somehow Sleeping at night? Oh Verity has no pity for oppressors. 'May the weight of her evil snap her spine.'))

At some point, Verity must have pulled on her clothes, because when she shifts from her stampede of thoughts, she finds herself fully dressed and getting ready to make an exit from the temple. She does not wait for the captain to make her departure (she doesn't even bother to see if the captain is even still there or if she has already left the temple). The thought of having to look at her, the thought of having to live out anymore of her days as a prisoner on a ship that belongs to her people churns poison in her stomach. She doesn't bother to listen to whatever the water sage is saying either, because it doesn't matter. None of this matters anymore, because this is place Verity never wants to return to; the wayfinder will be lost forever and perhaps that is for the best. (She should have known the captain was misleading her into thinking she could ever have good intentions for that artifact; she does not see a righteous rebel leader out to save her people. She sees only the abuser trying to make amends with those she has abused. How utterly sickening.)

So sickening, in fact, that once Verity is outside of the temple, she doubles over and throws up acid into the ash. At least the smell of her emptied stomach finally masks the smell of rotten corpses. She wipes her mouth and straightens herself. Finally, she decides to locate the captain because the fire on her tongue cannot be quelled with further silence. "How long were you going to let me think you were some poor misguided soul? To think I ever pitied your existence, but I see who you are now. A liar and a coward. You tried to have me believe that monsters can be honorable too; you had me believe I was a monster without honor for what I did. How utterly foolish for me to ever believe the likes of someone like you."

 

[Syntra]

What, Iskra thought, is the meaning of this? Because looking for anything of the sort in the tangled mess the princess had provided was like looking for honor among thieves, or for mercy in her own rotten heart. Just, impossible! ...maybe the lack of a meaning was the point, though. For all the accusations she had flung at Verity, Iskra had committed the same sin, hadn't she? The sin of overinterpretation, tied to her own preconceptions. Through her own eyes had she watched the princess, and through pretty words had she been fooled-- oh, Verity was a storyteller, alright, and such believable stories had she spun! Stories of duty, of responsibility, of carrying the entire world on her shoulders. Of wanting to make a difference, in truth. The narrative had felt familiar to Iskra, like a well-worn shirt, so she had slipped into it easily-- except that its fabric had been woven out of thistle, and now it grazed against her skin. ...you see, Verity had never cared. Instead of seizing the golden opportunity her superiors had given her, she preferred to drown in another's eyes! In another's lips, too, if this went where the pirate thought it was heading, and... and it didn't even seem to matter who the person was. That, of course, didn't bother Iskra. There was no logical reason for the princess's preferences to spark her ire, and so they didn't. Just an innocent observation, you know? Merely one more piece completing the mosaic-- one more proof of Verity's fickle nature. (A butterfly, Iskra was sure, truly loved any flower it had chosen to worship. How could it not? It had given its heart to it, and sung sweet serenades celebrating its beauty to anyone who had ears to hear. ...still, for the butterfly, whole eternity could pass within the blink of an eye. 'Time to move on,' its instincts whispered to it, and it obeyed, for it knew nothing else. As always, the dandelion was left in the dust.)

As she rose from the pond, Iskra could feel the guardian's eyes on her-- the weight of her disappointment, burning through her bones. 'You did not Accept,' she whispered, in a sad voice that reminded her of the waves that shattered against cliffs. 'You didn't offer anything that might be Accepted, either. One of you was given poison, while the other was presented with cheap wrappings. With such wretched gifts, how can you expect something valuable in exchange? Begone. Away with you, so that I don't have to look at your faces any longer. Both of you are unworthy.' Feeling strangely numb, the pirate put her clothes on. Her hands acted automatically, more a machine than an extension of her own body, and soon enough, everything about her was covered once again. (Failed, failed, failed. Ah, such a familiar flavor to her burnt tongue! A foregone conclusion, if you examined the existing patterns closely enough. Why had she tried, even? Always, always had she walked in ashes, and ashes stuck to you, oh, they did. Before you knew it, you were spreading them, too! Like an angel of destruction, you warped the land to your own twisted image, and-- and-- well. Clearly, her hands were too stained to hold a thing this pure. Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps I would have tainted the relic, too, and prevented others from being able to use it.) Where to go from now on, however? The wayfinder had been their last hope! Just a candle flickering in the wind, with its light about go out at any moment, but it had been something, at the very least. A goal to strive towards, even if it had been built out of lies. Now, though? The flames disappeared, and Iskra's eyes only saw darkness.

...darkness and Verity, which might as well have been synonymous now. (And to think she had once called her her guiding star! A true guiding star, the pirate thought, would never have led her to her own doom. Oh no, no, no. Instead, the princess was one of those carnivorous flowers-- you know, the kind that compelled its victims to come closer with its sweet smell, and then devoured them alive. A false prophet. Oh yes, a false prophet, preaching of forgiveness without knowing the extent of her sin! Hadn't Iskra warned her, after all? Hadn't she repeated, thousand times over, that she wasn't worthy of her attention? And yet, despite her best efforts, Verity had convinced herself that the pirate was wrong-- that, for some reason, she knew more about her life than Iskra herself did. Princesses were never wrong, after all! ...and the worst thing about it? For a few seconds, she had bought into it. Verity's words had painted a world in which she could become more than what she currently was, in which she could step outside of her own shadow, and... it was a cruel thing, to light this hope in her heart. To light it only to pour a bucket of water onto it afterwards!)

"Me?" Iskra raised her eyebrow. "A liar? Not once have I lied to you, princess. Not once. You believed what you wanted to believe, based on nothing at all. I warned you, even, but you wouldn't accept it. No, you just knew better. Why did you come to that conclusion, Verity? Because you happened to enjoy the way I formulate my thoughts? Because you liked my hands on your body? Shallow standards for judging a person's worth, indeed. The foolishness is entirely your own, you stupid girl, so don't you dare to shift the blame. And, according to what I've seen," this probably should have been the point where Iskra stopped, but she couldn't, couldn't, couldn't, "this isn't a new tendency, either. A pretty face is more than enough for you, it seems," the pirate scoffed, a thunderstorm raging in her eyes. "Perhaps you should be more concerned with learning to see beyond that? Consider this to be your first lesson, then."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

So this is what the pirate truly thinks of her. That she is another stupid little girl with her head screwed on backwards by her fanciful desires. To some degree, Verity knew this would be the outcome of the memories she had chosen to share with Iskra. No part of her had hoped the other would understand her better. No part of her had been praying the other would try to find deeper meaning in those three little memories. Had she been wishful for understanding, she would have shared the memories that are like shrapnel in her stuck in her heart. However, letting Iskra see that would have risked rattling those injuries and causing her more damage than she has already brought upon herself. Everything Iskra says only proves that she had been right to hide behind a superficial veil. She warned the captain once that Beauty only hides what is ugly and clearly the other had chosen to look no further. Fine. She should have expected that. For a creature like Iskra steeped in destruction and evil could never understand her plight.

Though Iskra's words do rain down on her like shards of glass, just like in that first memory of the former soldier's, she does not panic or run away. She stands and lets each edge cut into her until she is raw and shredded on that outside. So be it if this makes her ugly, she does not care. Iskra has already decided that her crown matches that of the Holy Vessel, so may as way play the role then, right? She can be a wicked princess––she has already learned from the very best. (And that it feels good? That it feels like letting out all the poison that has been sickening her head and heart? That is just a mere bonus.) "Bold of you to assume you were another pretty face I was using as a distraction. How damn presumptuous of you, Iskra, to assume I would seek that solace in a lowly pirate, who is steeped in sins my own mind could have never imagined."

(Iskra can never understand her. And why should she even seek her understanding? She is her captor and there is nothing for her to gain by being understood. The opinions of rats matter not to her. So let the captain think what she will, because at the end of all of this at least Verity knows her own truth. And isn't that what the ancestors always wanted for her? To know herself, to follow her own heart and do what she believes is right so that her essence can be pure? Yes, this is exactly what they wanted and yet why does it taste so damn foul?)

"True, you did warn me. That I can acknowledge, but do you really think you warned me faithfully for the wretched crimes you have committed? Oh, sure you said that you were horrid but you gave nothing to show that side of yourself. You showed me poems, new books, songs, a damn garden––how was that supposed to leave me at the conclusion that you are a wicked little thing, hm?" Because in Verity's mind, the warnings Iskra gave were insufficient. Nothing ever led the prisoner to believe that Iskra was cruel. Sure, there were those rumors of the nasty and fearsome pirate, but rumors cannot be trusted and once Verity had come into the pirate's care she was shown nothing but pleasantness. So how was she supposed to come to the conclusion that Iskra was not just over exaggerating her claim when everything led her to believe the contrary? This pirate just wears a mask of chivalry. Yes, she chose to take those warnings with a grain of salt, she can admit her mistake there, all things considered, but the pirate also never should have pretended to be noble. "You played the role of chivalrous knight so well––were you not trying to deceive me, then? Or would you have me believe that you are both a kind captain as well as an abominable creature? Had I been aware such dualities can exist in another, perhaps I could have heeded the warning. But, be honest with me, Iskra, did you not want me, at least one person, to think you could be better? Is that not why you decided to shower me in kindness? Or was it guilt. Guilt for using me for own quest when you knew I had my own cause to go home to. Try wearing your true colors if you want people to see the beast that you are."

If Verity could have stopped herself there, she might have. But to be honest, it feels good to unleash this all onto the pirate––all her anger, all her frustration, all her devastation finally having an outlet where she hadn't had one before. In this moment she does not see herself regretting any of the fire that pours from her mouth. She only sees herself wishing she had thought of sharper lines to cut this woman down. (Still, the prisoner keeps her distance from the pirate. Should the pirate get too close, she will step back. Her cheek still remembers the last Time they were too close.) "Tell me, Iskra, how does it feel to assert your dominance over that which cannot defend itself against you? Does it make you feel good that you're not at the bottom of the food chain? That there are still beings lower than you that you can use to prove you still have power? It must give you some semblance of control. That you have real power, but real power never needs to be asserted through the end of your sword or your hand. You're just clinging to scraps."

 

[Syntra]

Silently, Iskra studied every detail about the princess-- the fire her eyes, the cruel curve of her mouth, the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders. She wanted to remember, you know? Not just faintly, in that carelessly casual manner in which you recalled what you'd had for dinner three days ago, but for real. With the accuracy of a picture, indeed! (When doubts would come, and they would, Iskra wanted to be able to review this very moment. 'Why did I do this?' her former self would lament. 'How could I?' And, oh, her future self would know what to say, alright. 'This is why,' she'd answer. 'Watch, and tell me whether you want this woman to be your friend.' ...because, you see, Iskra may have been pathetic, but not to this extent. Loneliness was a coat she wore often enough, and, like like a faithful dog, it was waiting for her-- she only had to take it off from the hanger, really, to slip back in. No, the pirate had no need of the princess! Not anymore, anyway. The wayfinder was lost, was to remain lost, apparently, and the union to win it back? That union was cursed, just like the nature of their quest. (Hollow, hollow, hollow! A shell of an egg that contained nothing at all, and yet she'd been foolish enough to sit on it. Why, though? Had the pirate been this hungry for punishment? ...perhaps. Perhaps, because clearly, forgiveness had never been within her grasp. Hands this slick with blood couldn't hold it, you see, and... and it was her fault, for believing otherwise. Dandelions could not be more than weeds, strangling all that was beautiful with their roots.)

...still, the rot within her own soul? That didn't give Verity the license to treat her like this. Oh no, no, no. With the purest of intentions, Iskra had pledged herself to the princess! Had she asked her to bring a piece of the sky to her so that she could make a dress of it, the pirate would have done so. She would have named a star for her, too, and found a way to put it into her necklace-- hell, had Verity wished so, Iskra would have stripped her own skin off her back, solely to keep her warm. How did she deserve this, then? These insults, hurled at her as if they were throwing knives? (The princess meant to hurt her, Iskra knew. Each word was chosen deliberately, with the same amount of care that a gladiator put into picking her weapon for the next big fight, but... well. Unfortunately for her, Verity worked with a false premise. A premise twisted in such a dramatic way, in fact, that the pirate felt like laughing! How could anyone hope to hurt that which was already dead, after all? The flesh which she was tearing to pieces was rotting already, with its pain receptors long gone. No, only numbness remained now. Numbness and astonishment, really, for suddenly, she couldn't understand what it was that had appealed to her about Verity in the first place. The fact that she was easy on the eyes? How well their conversations flowed, maybe? That would make her just as shallow as the other woman, but perhaps that was the point-- these uncomfortable parallels, drawn in her own blood. As the alchemists said, like was attracted to like! ...and, as Verity's mask slid down her nose, Iskra understood exactly what made them similar. Similar, yet so strikingly different.)

"My deepest apologies, then, for not being a convenient enough caricature," Iskra bowed, her hand placed where her heart had once been. "For somehow deceiving you, apparently. Had I known your mind was this ruled by conventions, I would have made sure to present myself as a tyrant from the very first moment." That, after all, was what she had been doing for all of her enemies. A bleeding heart wouldn't do well as a pirate, you see? Cruelty, on the other hand, often offered better protection than actual armor. The best conflict was the one that didn't happen, as any soldier knew. "But, princess, I wish for you to understand one thing, if nothing else-- which is that I only ever showed you myself. Unlike you, I have no need for masks. That is why you think like this, isn't it? Because, for some reason, you expect everyone else to be your mirror. Everyone is a liar, a deceiver, the second you are wrong about them, since surely, that must mean they are putting up a front.Verity, pfft. Your ancestors were wise, indeed, for bestowing this wish upon you! They must have known that this is what you don't have. That, deep inside, you're empty." ...just as empty as she was, in truth. A collection of masks, all connected by a pretty golden thread! They were well-made, Iskra couldn't deny that-- thanks to the one with the sweet smile painted on her lips, Verity had even gotten close enough to her to murder her. Once that had failed, though? Slowly, it had crumbled away, and the princess was left with nothing but her true face. Oh, how frustrating that must have been!

"And," perhaps shockingly, Iskra smiled, "no. I don't at all think I'm not nothing. I've always known. You are the same, though. My soul's sister. Did you not murder someone you thought to be pure? You were wrong about her, yes, but in your own mind, you did kill an innocent. Did you not abandon your people, too? Hmm, hmm. For someone so submerged in filth, you sure are quick to judge. Since you're trying so hard to tease a reaction out of me, however, I'll deliver: I hate you, Verity. From the bottom of my heart."...did she, though? Oh yes, yes, she did! Once, her feelings for the princess had been a source of confusion, but this was something Iskra knew intimately-- a path she walked often, to the point she'd find it with her eyes closed. "There, satisfied? Was it to your liking, or are you going to waste more breath on trying to get under my skin?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

No. Verity cannot believe anymore of this pirate's lies. She refuses to believe that Iskra ever showed her her true nature. For so long she had wrestled with herself trying to figure out the pirate's intentions. One day she would wake up and think that Iskra were a genuine soul, terribly mixed up in a narrative with chapters that split her open. The next she would wake up convinced that all those little gestures that could be read as genuine were only a means to get her to cooperate. That all those Times the pirate had promised herself to prisoner must have been flimsy lines from a script, because how could they ever become allies in each other's plights when the business dealings had never been on equal terms to begin with? Like the idealist she is, she had let herself believe in the fairytale version of her circumstances because it sang so sweetly and Iskra had managed to do chivalry justice. Of course, it was all a ruse. She realizes this now. Her eyes see everything clearly now, thanks to that glimpse of rot Iskra chose to share with her. It could never have been anything more than some elaborate dance. The pirate only ever cared about her because of her mission. To save the souls she herself already damned. Hardly noble intentions––if anything, it is the bare minimum she owes to the lives she has torn asunder. To the country she devastated with her inept hands. See, Verity cannot believe that the pirate had ever been authentic with her. Even if a hidden part of herself knows it to be true, the Verity who stands before Iskra now, with poisonous malachite eyes and lips that only sneer, has already damned the pirate in her heart.

So she does not believe that pirate has ever shown her anything real, because Verity has seen who the real Iskra is. And she is hidden under the layers of perhaps who she wants to be, but isn't––because the real Iskra only knows how to stick the end of her sword into the bodies of innocents. The real Iskra even came out to give her a sample of that truth. "You have been sutured together with the guilt of your corruption and that does not make you kind," and that is exactly how Verity regards the pirate in this moment. As nothing more than an animal driven by her own guilt; she doesn't even give her the benefit of having pure intentions because Verity does not see that woman anymore. Even the thought of having her name in her mouth makes her want to choke.

Her gaze then hardens and the air around the prisoner turns cold as the pirate speaks and berates her through her own ancestors. If Verity were as low as the pirate, she might strike her now, but that is not her way. So despite her rolled fists, she holds herself back. "My ancestors can be kept from your filthy fucking mouth. Their intentions do not concern you and are not yours to speak on." (She never should have told Iskra about her name. Something as sacred as that should never have been tainted by giving its power to that of an outsider. If she were not so fixed on her ire, she might feel the wound of betrayal but for now she protected from that.) If Iskra dares to try to speak on them again, Verity might not hold herself back from Violence and already she feels that sage's evil tendrils gripping her mind and filling her head with images of cutting out the pirate's tongue. It seems a fair price to her.

Now despite the glaring truths in what Iskra says next, Verity turns her nose to them and looks away. Yes, she may have thought Iskra to be an innocent soul at the Time of her murder, however, she had sacrificed her Life for the lives of her people. To ensure their survival by being able to claim the wayfinder for herself (because the last Time she failed to topple an obstacle in her path, millions suffered and more continue to suffer). In that reality, she can wash her hands clean like she should have done all those weeks ago. No longer does she feel guilty for striking down the captain, because it had been done in good faith and it no longer matters that she fell from the captain's grace. Who even cares about appearing dishonorable in the eyes of a meager pirate when she has an entire country to sing her praise? (Or did, but that is a detail she is not inclined to focus on right now.)

Finally, when Iskra reveals her true feelings towards the prisoner, she isn't even moved. She may have feared this outcome once, but now she embraces the actuality. Tears don't sting her eyes, her lip doesn't quiver, her heart doesn't stop. No, everything is perfectly normal. In many ways, she feels free knowing this. There is nothing left for her here and with that, she feels that her chains of responsibility towards this pirate are broken. She meets Iskra's gaze and with a disturbing amount of evenness in her tone she says, "You know nothing of me, so hate me all you want. The feeling is one our soul's share; sisters they are, truly."

No longer wanting to be in the pirate's presence, no longer wanting to tag along on this adventure she once thought might help the predicament of her people, she decides to leave. She turns away from the captain and begins walking off, not towards Inure but in a different direction entirely. Is it wise to try to runoff on some unknown planet with its threatening sky? She does not know and she does not care. She doesn't even expect Iskra to chase her, because there is no point to her being in the pirate's captivity; so what reason would she have to keep her other than out of spite alone? The way Verity sees it, the wayfinder is gone and somewhere she knows they both feel that, so there is no point to their union. Should the pirate try to keep her, it will only cement in her heart that Iskra is a wicked little thing.

 

[Syntra]

There was nothing left to say. The last verse had been sung, the last note played, and now? Now only silence remained, in this hollow spot in her heart where a symphony had once resonated. The stillness matched that of a corpse, indeed, which... well. Wasn't that fitting? For as she watched Verity put greater and greater distance between them, she could feel something inside of her dying. (No, Iskra didn't chase after her. What would be the point of that? She could catch the princess to show her the pirate's mercy she had craved so desperately, but that wouldn't grant her the wayfinder. It would grant her nothing at all, actually, aside maybe from some new nightmares, and Iskra already had enough of them to last her a whole lifetime. Oh no, no! Verity would win in such a scenario, for her inane ramblings would be proven right. ...not that they weren't close to right, of course. Iskra was a monster, with her claws covered in blood, and gentle intentions couldn't make up for cruel acts. She knew, knew and knew! Had known all this time, in fact, so that she was this upset when the bubble finally burst said nothing flattering about her cognitive abilities. Just, what had she been thinking? What kind of madness had clouded her vision, and summoned phantoms for her to worship?! ...maybe, maybe the pirate had only wanted it to last a little longer, though. The bubble had been so pretty as it had sparkled in the sun-- a diamond belonging to her and her only, but ten times more precious. In hindsight, that should have served as a warning. Soldiers had no need for such trinkets, you see, just as they had no need for a conscience. Oh well! It was time to move on, Iskra guessed.)

Leaving ashes behind, after all, happened to be her specialty.

***

"Are you perhaps planning to eat sometime in this century, captain?" Myrne was wearing that stern expression of hers-- the one that said 'you will obey whether you like it or not, young lady.' (She had many flavors of stern expressions at her disposal, and over the course of time, Iskra had learned to recognize the subtle differences. Privately, she categorized them according to their severity, too, and this one? This one scored ten out of ten!)

"What do you mean?" she asked before once again looking down at the documents. "I am pretty sure I ate, hmmm... yesterday."

"Did you? I, on the other hand, am pretty sure I saw the cook grumbling and disposing of your meal. Untouched meal, might I add. What is the meaning of this?"

"Fine, fine," Iskra sighed, "I just wasn't hungry. Since I lost my sense of taste, it hasn't been the same. I think I may just be adapting to a more balanced diet? To one meant to keep me alive, as opposed to indulging in pointless joys. Perhaps, as a species, we've been seduced by the appeal of food-- taste buds may be what makes us weak. Well, one of the factors, anyway."

"...Iskra, I swear--"

"Captain. I'm still your captain, Myrne. Don't you ever forget that."

"Fine," Myrne rolled her eyes, "captain. How do you hope to retain that title if it turns out you can't even lift your sword, though? I mean, you do need those nutrients still."

For that, Iskra had no answer.

***

"Captain. Hey! Am I, like, supposed to send you an offcial fucking letter if I want you to join us for dinner?"

"Not now, Ylna. Leave me alone. I have some important letters to--"

"Yeah, yeah," Ylna rolled her eyes before grabbing Iskra by the hem of her shirt and pulling her to her feet. (Which, what?! Scandalizing! Open rebellion! ...too bad her mind was wrapped in cotton, and thus failed to send the right command to the rest of her body. Instead of her hand falling to her sword automatically, the pirate just... sorta allowed Ylna to move her around, as if she was an especially realistic-looking ragdoll.) "You write all the time. Should have become a fucking writer if you love it so much, but you didn't. You're a pirate, so act like one! Pirates are contractually obliged to get wasted at least once pet month, so stop fucking slacking."

"I, umm, I don't think I've seen that rule before--"

"NO EXCUSES!"

***

Whole centuries ago, Iskra thought, they had used to stand there-- close to the railing, and close to the stars as well. (...the pirate and the princess, ah yes, yes. What a grotesque pair! Their meeting had seemed scripted, fated, almost, in the same way two protagonists getting to know one another in the beginning of a novel surely was fate, and perhaps that was still true. The catch? In her arrogance, Iskra had misjudged the genre. It had always been tragedy! Their trajectories could never intersect for they were planets, and those had to wander the universe on their own. When they didn't, you see, a catastrophe followed--entire atmospheres burning, whole ecosystems dying with a quiet gasp. Wasn't that what had happened to them, after all?)

...she hadn't been whole before, either, but what remained of her now could have been a speck of dust. A fragment of a fragment, indeed! Not that Iskra minded, of course. This, too, was her destiny-- losing herself, gradually, till the person who stared at her from the mirror was someone she didn't recognize at all. (Once, the pirate had dreaded the prospect. Stepping right into the abyss and feeding it her own flesh, was scary, you know? On some visceral, terrifyingly human level. ...except that she wasn't human, and so that had to be a delusion as well. It was, now the pirate knew! Getting rid of her shell, as Iskra had come to realize, was a boon-- a reward, for years of faithful service. Along with her mind, her guilt would be swept away, too, and that... oh, that was a moment she was looking forward to so, so much. She wished for it, just like a wilting flower prayed for rain!

And, no, Iskra didn't really blame the princess anymore, either-- good for her, truly, for freeing herself from her clutches. Every single insult that had left her lips? It had been right, and she had been right to say it. Demanding loyalty from a prisoner had been foolish, anyway. According to the same logic, shouldn't she have remained faithful to the Holy Vessel to the bitter end as well? (Maybe she should have, actually. Should haves and would haves would lead her nowhere, though, so there was no point in pursuing that path.)

"Are you fucking done moping around, captain? Yeah, yeah, you miss your pet, which is sad and everything," Ylna breached the topic with her signature brand of tact, "but don't you think this is a bit excessive? Like, we would like to do something. Since, you know, we haven't gotten around to that for weeks now. No pressure, though. I guess we can deliver packages as a part time job in the meantime!"

Wearing a tiny smile on her lips, Iskra turned around. "Wise words, Ylna. Why not? We should deliver packages, I think. Since we're traveling anyway, it will generate significant profits without it costing us anything at all."

Had Ylna been drinking something, she probably would have spat it out right now. "What! Iskra, I swear, I didn't fucking sign up for this bullshit--"

"I never said it will be our only source of income," she clarified. "But... well, I did waste a lot of time, and you are right that we should be doing something. Something grand, preferably." Her mission, you see, cared not about her hurt feelings-- and, oh, had it been wrong of her to neglect it! Clearly, that had to be rectified. "I'm thinking we'll need a lot of money. That's the next best thing, if I can't get the wayfinder."

"Wo hoo!" Ylna patted her on her shoulder, her eyes about one hundred percent more lively. "Man, that's the captain I remember. Does it mean what I think it means?"

"If it's robbery, then yes."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕
​

Following the exiled's departure from the pirate, she had made her way to a small trading town that was about half a day's journey from wherever she had left Iskra. The entire Time she walked, her mind remained blank with a sickening amount of clarity that left her going through the motions of the journey. She thought of nothing. Not of Iskra. Not of Halen. Not of her people. Not of the queen. Not of her ancestors. Simply, she kept moving forward driven by only a desire to put distance between herself and her past. When she arrived in the trading town, she quickly learned that the local language was familiar to her in this annoyingly unplaceable way. Though she did not spend too much Time on that mystery. Instead, she figured out which ships were headed off-planet and stowed away on one she thought was heading... well, away. Because away was all she really wanted to go and she had no desire to head towards any particular location. Once aboard the ship and once she had confirmed that the evening crew had taken over, she hopped from her hiding spot and made for the escape pods. Again, the exiled had no location in mind as to where she wanted to go, but staying aboard the ship felt too risky and so she found a way out.

The pod ended up taking her to some frozen planet where she crash landed in the middle of some ice block, with no sight on any civilization. At that point Verity had the idea to remain in the pod and perhaps let herself freeze to Death, but overcome perhaps by a weak desire to survive she clambered and stumbled out of the pod and trekked forward, wherever forward led. 'How strange. I never thought about how large a planet is and how little the population takes up. I suppose it makes sense that I'd land somewhere close to nowhere,' she had thought as she pulled her legs through the thick snow. The ice winds had cut into her cheeks, her fingers turned this strange black color she had never seen before and before she could make it towards anywhere, her body gave out under her and yet the exiled honestly did not seem to mind. When she woke up after an unknown amount of hours, she was no longer outside in what she later found out would turn into the worst blizzard the area has ever seen; instead she was in some small family inn with one of the owners hovering over her. Apparently, she had only been a few miles out from the village and the innkeeper's wife found her while gathering supplies from the town over. Verity was told that she had been lucky. And she only wondered why.

The weeks following her escape and rescue all blurred into one mass. Mostly because all she really did was stay in the room she managed to secure by trading her cape in exchange for room and board at the inn. Her days mostly revolved around Sleep. Sometimes she would leave her bed to eat or drink or to shower, but mostly she just slept in an effort to keep her thoughts at bay. The ice storm raged on outside and sometimes she'd open the window to let the cold in, to remind herself she could still shiver so she must still be alive somewhere inside of herself. It was just hard for her to find meaning in her Life following everything. Though she tried to avoid the nagging truth, she realized quickly after turning her back on Iskra that she was alone. There was nothing in the galaxy to be done about that, because it had been through her own actions that she isolated herself, exiled herself from everyone. Even the ancestors, who still hadn't returned to her and showed no signs that they would. So she lost herself to her dreams, that soon became nightmares.

Nightmares that swallowed her whole and did not allow her any escape. They gripped her mind so fiercely that even with her thrashing, she could not escape. She kept seeing images of Iskra or Halen or the queen all dancing around her. All taking turns stabbing her yet each one of them had bone knives stuck in their backs already. Sometimes she would dream she was that little girl in the Holy Vessel’s gilded cage. Other times she dreamed of Iskra and the queen ensnared together, bathing in her blood while they embraced and kissed each other passionately. 'We have finally freed the galaxy of snakes,' they'd sing in celebration and outside she could hear a thunder of applause. Those nightmares and so many more like them haunted her and yet, between choosing to lie awake and slumber she almost always chose slumber.

But, because stagnation must always come to end, she broke out of this rut. Not in any way she had expected, mostly because she half expected and fully hoped to whither and die on this frozen planet. No, the day she got herself out of her rut happened to be the day she became acquainted with who would become her own group of rapscallions. Though the ice storm had since passed and the sun shone once more and shimmered against the snow, that meant that while Nature no longer threatened these people, the arctic tigers were now on the hunt for food. Now these tigers were vastly different than those that Verity knew because not only were they larger in scale, but they also happened to travel in prides same as lions, and had canines that were so long they hung out from the creatures' maws. So when locals came into the inn while Verity was eating some meal and asked for volunteers, on a whim she offered to help provided she be given something to fight with.

The whole ordeal involved setting out to find the pride, which took a week, and then fighting the creatures, which took an entire day. During all that Time Verity not only managed lead the hunt, but she also befriended a cyborg by the name of Rosal (she was missing everything from the waist down and didn't make a habit of using legs––apparently, too expensive to upkeep when she could apply a hover disk to support herself). Once they had come back to the village, victorious, with fresh meat and fur to be made into clothes, Rosal introduced Verity to her wife, Vega who was an experienced cat burglar. The three hit it off relatively well and the couple invited Verity to help them with some mission of theirs. The exiled figured she had nothing to lose by tagging along and soon found herself caught up in smuggling––drugs, exotic animals, rare artifacts, anything so long as it could bring in money which was all the couple seemed to really care about. Most surprisingly though? Verity didn't seem to care about the work. While she never necessarily had moral superiority over those who turned to illegal means of survival, the work, at Times, did involve using any means necessary to acquire certain items. More than occasionally, it involved innocents being hurt. But why should Verity have cared? Thus far, her Life had only shown that those who come out on top were those who were willing to dip their hands in sin. As far as the exiled was concerned, she was tired of being chewed up and spit out. And, simply, she just did not care. It became like going through the motions of the day and, scarily enough, it became easier and easier to dip into the wickedness that she had always been too afraid of. The one that filled her head with intrusive images of harming others. Of wishing most Violent Deaths unto her enemies or those who stood in her way. The one that caused her to kill Iskra, ultimately. She had Feared this side of her once, but honestly? It only seemed fitting to fully don the mask of a snake.

Over Time, the trio earned more money and hired another couple to help with their raids, Hina and Nadira, who specialized in pyrotechnics and codebreaking, respectively. They had even earned enough to claim a larger ship that had been aptly named The Serpent's Curse. Though there was no official leader for this group, Verity seemed to have taken on the role. Perhaps out of habit, having been a princess once. While she was surrounded by people now and found them to be decent company, they hardly knew a thing about the woman. She made up a story about her background, explaining that she served a pirate once and grew bored of the role and deserted. She told them the scar over her eye was from a bar fight. She told them that her family left her and she has been on her own for a while. Most of her made up Life had been built on half- or quarter-truths so she never felt guilty about lying. Nor did she really care. While she laughed more than she had wasting away at the inn, she was still filled with emptiness that never made any sense to her but she gave up on trying to understand it. Perhaps hollowness was her new bedfellow and perhaps she did not mind that so much. She was getting used to it, after all. Though still, underneath that hollowness, she felt embers of her own Wrath ignite and while she tried to swallow it and suffocate it, it seemed to be made from something eternal for it never died. It accompanied the hollowness, actually, and while somedays it made her want to scream and rip her own hair out, with the hope it would offer herself some reprieve, it more often came out in Violent bursts that earned her a reputation of being hot headed (which was not too far from the truth).

Never had the exiled ever felt more distant from herself with no way of knowing how to even get herself back. There was a wall, high and strong, that had hidden whoever she used to be in favor of the angry thing she had started to become.

 

[Syntra]

For some, Iskra knew, their profession was also their life's mission-- a badge of honor they wore pinned to their shirts, and displayed proudly. Ah, how lucky these people were! Not having to feel ashamed for the way they earned their bread must have been freeing, indeed. A gift from the heavens. (Still, the pirate supposed, her fate was only fitting. How could a swine wish for pearls, after all? Worms didn't get to be worshiped, either, and escaping the Holy Vessel's clutches... oh, that hadn't changed the nature of her essence. No, not at all. The darkness within her grew and grew, and demanded to be fed, and eagerly, Iskra had done exactly that! From her own flesh she'd carved scraps, only to force them down the creature's throat. 'Eat,' she had commanded, for there was no other purpose to her existence. And the Shade? The Shade had consumed, as mindlessly as she breathed! ...a poor, poor beast, shackled by its own instincts. It knew not what else to do, you see? The pangs of hunger were tearing it apart, always, relentlessly, and whenever Iskra thought of its plight, she almost felt sorry for it. They weren't so different, the pirate and the beast! ...you were what you ate, after all. Perhaps, with a better host, the Shade could have blossomed into a flower thousand times more beautiful-- into an orchid, maybe, instead of this... this twisted, misshapen thing. A seed could never be more than it was, though, and you'd be a fool for thinking otherwise. Who had ever heard of roses growing from carrot seeds, after all?)

"Captain, you're thinking too much again," Eran pointed out. "I can see it in your eyes! What is it you're pondering over, hmmm?"

"Why do you think I'm thinking too much?" she raised her eyebrow. "To me, it feels that I think as much as the situation requires me to. Not more, and not less. Doing anything else would have been awfully inefficient."

"Oh? Well, why do you look like a puppy that's been kicked, then? Because you have been kicked, I'm sure. By your own silly thoughts! I've never met anyone who could tear herself down more artfully, you know." Ah, by the Shade! What was this, an impromptu therapy session? Needless to say, Iskra was not impressed-- why everyone on this ship felt entitled to dissecting her mind was beyond her, truly. Did they not have their own thoughts to concern themselves with? Their own dreams, spun out of hope rather than misery?

"Don't you have a wedding to prepare, Eran?"

"Don't you have an ambush to plan, captain?" ...ah, okay. That, if nothing else, was a valid concern. (The presentation was more than a little lackluster, but Eran wasn't a soldier. Her mind was governed by more than just absolute obedience, and that... that was a thing of beauty, honestly. A single diamond in a heap of trash, shining from afar. No, Iskra thought, she shouldn't be punished for this. Perhaps we may learn from her, even.)

"Is that why you came? Did something... worthwhile... show up on our radar readings?"

"Oh, you bet, captain. A true prize!"

***

A prize wasn't the word Iskra would use to describe the ship, really-- it was too small and thus too manoeuvrable, especially when compared to Inure. As if that wasn't annoying enough, the drawbacks didn't end there, either. The amount of cargo it would be able to carry, for example? Not large enough to make the chase worthwhile, most likely. It didn't even look like a mechant's ship, which meant there didn't have to be anything of value at all! Still, this wasn't one of those fancy markets where you could choose to pay only for the finest, shiniest apples. Oh no, no, no. This corner of the galaxy had almost been picked clean, and the captains of the truly rich ships were aware of the risks-- so, more often than not, hired guns accompanied them on their travels. This ship, in contrast, seemed to be sailing among the stars on its own! (It was worth a try, Iskra supposed. As any hunter worth their salt knew, a skinny rabbit was still better than no rabbit at all.)

"Ylna? What about our cannons?" she asked her colleague, not even bothering to look away from the map.

"Calibrated and ready, captain. If need be, I'll blast them straight into the afterlife!"

"Don't, please," Iskra rolled her eyes. "It would be hard to retrieve their cargo from there."

"Pffft. You never fail to be a killjoy, do you?"

"Saavika, Myrne. What about our... less conventional weaponry?"

"Everything is ready," Myrne said, and Saavika only nodded in agreement.

("She's saying she's willing to kick ass," Eran supplied, rather unhelpfully, but Iskra didn't feel like pointing that out. Crushing others' joy was a cruel hobby, and one that brought her no satisfaction.)

"Alright," Iskra finally turned to her women. "I see. I shall get us closer to this ship, then. What was the name, again?"

"The Serpent's Curse," Ylna smirked, not even trying to hide her amusement. "Someone has a flair for the dramatic over there, that's for certain."

"...uhh, do I have to remind you that, not so long ago, Inure was called The Perilous Wind?" Eran asked. "I mean, I don't really think we have the right to judge literally anyone."

"Not the point! It's fucking different when we do it, and besides--"

"Ladies, ladies," Iskra waved her hand. "You may argue later if you must. Now, we are discussing the strategy! So, Ylna, once I give you the signal, you'll target the boosters. We cannot allow them to escape from our reach. After that, attack the engines. Not the main one, though-- we don't want to blow them up. This time, we're shooting first and negotiating later. Any questions? No? Then you're dismissed!" And, with that? With that, the wheels of fate began to spin, and everything was set in motion once again.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

"Verity, you look as if you've seen a damn ghost––what's going on?" Rosal asks as she readies the ship's defenses. Not but a mere three minutes ago the cyborg had informed the exiled that a ship by the name of Inure had shown up on their scanners and didn't seem as though it was going to let them sail by peacefully. The woman had even gone so far as to pull up reports of the ship, its captain, the reputation it held and everything that Verity distinctly already knows. So of course, she looks as if she's seen a ghost, she practically has. It's hard for the exiled to discern exactly what storm passes through her body at the mention of Inure or even being able to see her just outside of their own spacecraft. It stirs some beast inside of her and she doesn't know whether it howls in Pain or Wrath or some dreadful combination of the two. Memories of her Time on Inure crash through the shore of her mind––though it would be more accurate to say that it is her memories of Iskra that surface and overwhelm her, getting caught somewhere in the hollow of her throat.

("I hate you, Verity," she had said back then. Back then it hadn't hurt the exiled. She felt it was deserved, earned even. She remembers the fire that whipped from both of their mouths and burned their flesh. In retrospect, she does wish they had ended on different terms. But the bridge had been burned and she has fed on the ashes since, in the middle of the night when she haunted by sages that offer veiled messages in her nightmares. She isn't proud of what she had said––as good as it felt in the moment to give into her anger, once she left the flames she realized how much she, herself, had burned. Most interestingly? Verity hardly thinks of the slap that truly hammered the wedge between them. Perhaps if she had more dignity she would keep that memory as something sacred to remind herself of all the rot in that wicked pirate––but, truly? Does Verity still think that of Iskra? She isn't sure. It's been so long and with that distance, all the sweet memories have returned to her as well––the ones where Iskra had been hers. Yes, she had been convinced at their last encounter that Iskra had fooled her, but she doubts that now.)

Despite Verity's ashen features, she recovers quickly and shakes her head at her co-pilot. Rosal misses that signal, however, much too focused on the dazzling appearance of her people's ship and continues, "Thing a beauty––seems ill-fitting for a pirate's ship if I do say so myself," she sighs, then eyes Verity through her peripheries, "there's an asteroid belt up ahead. They'd be insane to try and follow us through there. I can navigate us through it and then make a jump at the otherside?"

"No," the exiled starts, snapping out of her fog. "That won't be necessary. I know this ship rather intimately." A strange look crosses over her features and it's near impossible to discern what's even passing through her mind. Though these days that's not all too uncommon given her abysmally low-affect that not even the neutral grin she can usually be found wearing is present on her features. Only the ghosts of old laugh lines exist now, former Joy that once belonged to her but seems somewhere out of reach. "I know its captain as well. Hina, Vega, get in position. Rosal, continue readying the defenses and make sure to stay out of range. Nadira, suit up. We're going to drive these parasites off that ship."

Appropriately so, her crew looks at her as if she has truly lost her mind and maybe she has, because a group of five smugglers against an entire pirate crew does not seem like a wise battle. Verity can understand this, she supposes, but the thought of Iskra still being on that ship seemed to move something in the exiled. She's not sure what, but the pang in her gut she reasoned must be from parasites still infecting the last known piece of her people's pilgrimage. Verity knows her crew could never out power Iskra and her crew were they to try and board the craft––skillful as they all are, the team doesn't have the necessary cohesion to pull off such a heist. However, from the outside? She does believe she can get the pirates to flee with only minor damage to the craft itself. Afterwards, she'll make sure Inure is in a descendant's hand. That, however, she will have to keep to herself if she wants her crew's support in this endeavor. They wouldn't understand.

"I do believe I gave you all an order," she says cooly, as she looks back towards Hina and Vega with a stern gaze. That seems enough to get them to at least pretend as though they are willing to trust in their de facto leader––if she seems confident then they are willing to follow her. So with that, Hina breaks into a grin and then shoves Vega to the side with some claim to the favored turret. That, at least, gets Vega to spring from her seat and from behind, Verity and Rosal both can hear the two women fighting through the passageways. Once everyone seems settled, she continues with her plan through the commlinks. "The scrap metal will be worth a fortune and will sell for high prices across the galaxy," she hears herself say, knowing she doesn't really plan to sell Inure for parts. Though she knows her crew is driven by money and would never understand her loyalty to something they can only comprehend as a ship and not a holy relic. "It's formidable, sure, but it has weaknesses. Rosal, we're going to fly towards the underbelly of the ship and locate the shield generators. Once those are in our sights, Nadira, you're going to climb out of the ship and disable them. You're much too small a target to hit and I doubt they'd risk doing more damage to their own ship. In the meantime, we'll fly around the exterior and target their blasters."

"Mothering fucking Monster, Verity, what the fuck you got against these fucks? I don't mind trying to blow shit up and collecting scrap metal––just seems like, hmm, like a squirt of a shot," Vega calls through the link. "Not sure the Monster herself is with us on this one."

At that, both Rosal and Verity roll their eyes though for entirely different reasons. Where Verity can appreciate Vega's interesting use of language, and she will admit that at Times she really has no idea what that woman is trying to communicate to her, in this instance it is grating on her nerves. Somewhere she knows her plan is formed out of petty revenge, out of wounds she inflicted on herself, and her own unhappiness with how things ended between herself and the usurper captain of Inure. The questions from her crew only call attention to that glaring reality––that even if she is sure they can drive this crew away, she knows it doesn't make much sense to go after something like this given their numbers. Escape would be much easier––especially with the precious cargo they are currently smuggling.

"Vega," Rosal interrupts before Verity can, "sweet pea, when is the last time you've seen a ship like this? Even I can tell this ship is made of priceless materials. If Verity knows the crew, the captain, and the ship itself that gives us a clear advantage. Now..." Thankfully, she closes off the communication channel so the rest of the crew does not have to hear whatever Rosal is promising to her wife in exchange for full cooperation. Well, at least that is one less thorn the exiled has to deal with and at least they seem convinced of future riches.

"Rosal, if they try to make contact, you take the call and keep me offscreen. I trust you to handle the negotiations," because the captain of the ship, she knows, is a dunce, "They don't need to know who they're dealing with. Surprise will be our greatest asset." Then back into the communication channel with her crew, "Once the shields are lowered, we'll circle back for Nadira and drop those detonators that bastard tried trading in exchange for our last haul. Should be enough to get the parasites to scramble if they want to remain in Life's fold."

With everyone on board and briefed with her plan, the dogfight starts and, to Verity, it almost seems like a familiar dance she once shared with Iskra during their first encounter.

 

[Syntra]

"...what the fuck are they doing? Shouldn't they be, like, trying to get away from us? That's what you do when pirates are chasing you, dammit. You run, otherwise it is no chase at all!" Ylna frowned, with all the exasperation of a physicist who couldn't get her experiments to match her initial hypothesis. (And, just like the best of scientists? Instead of formulating a new theory, the woman decided to bend over backwards to find a way to still make her old assumptions true, somehow.) "Do you think they're trying to confuse us? As in, to pretend they're going to fight us?"

"And why, pray tell, would they do this?" Eran rolled her eyes. "I mean, that's just stupid. Wouldn't it be easier for them to escape now, when there's some distance between us? That's what I'd do, anyway."

"Yeah, yeah, but you are a civilian."

"Uhhh... you are aware that, technically, we're all civilians here, right? The label literally means 'not serving in an army,' not 'not being badass enough,'" Eran pointed out. (She'd never admit that, Iskra knew, and yet she was willing to bet that this woman revelled in her silly little word games. 'Words have meanings,' Eran proclaimed often, as if they were damsels in distress. And if that analogy was true? Why, then she surely was their knight in shining armor!)

"Well, you still know what I meant by that, though! You aren't a fucking warrior, which means you can't adopt a warrior's mindset. It's not as easy as putting on a different shirt, Eran. Nuh uh. Like, when your entire personality has been forged in the heat of battle, you can't--"

"...didn't you just say that they were trying to run away? How does this make them warriors?"

"Silence, you two," Iskra commanded. "Must you argue now as well? If I didn't know you any better, I'd wager you're trying to give me a headache." Just, ugh. Was it truly so hard to keep your insights to yourself? Every day, the pirate had thousands and thousands of thoughts, and yet only the pages of her diary ever learned of them! (...now, at least. Back when Verity had been traveling with them, she had filled her head with her ideas-- the princess had drunk from that fountain, too, like a woman who had just crossed a desert, and... well. It had been a mistake, Iskra realized. How not? Out of words, they'd woven an impression of intimacy, but an impression was all it was. A trap, that was what it was. A pretty cloak, shining with the brightest of colors, except that there were needles stuck in the fabric as well! ...it had decayed by now, mostly, but the needles remained somewhere under her skin. It took ages for metals to decompose properly, you know?)

"Well, what do you think about this, captain? What are they trying to do?"

"I think that," Iskra began, as she observed the readings, "we should retreat."

"What?!"

"We aren't running away," the captain reassured them. "We just need some distance between us, is all." Because, the other ship's increased mobility? Oh no, no, no-- they didn't need to play according to the rules that benefited them. Inure's firepower was greater, that much was obvious, and in order to be able to shoot without fear, they couldn't be too close to The Serpent's Curse! (A hunter could trigger her own trap, too. Tragic, yes, but it happened to those who didn't respect the sanctity of the blade. In order to wield it properly, you see, you had to respect it-- which always, always contained a healthy dose of wariness as well.)

"Hold onto something," Iskra recommended. And, after that? Swiftly, she spun the steering wheel-- Inure groaned, like a bear that had just been awakened from its winter slumber, but as always, she bent to her will. The ship turned around, and, yes! Yes, just a few more degrees to the right. The acceleration would take care of the rest afterwards, and if they were lucky, they'd end up in a good firing position, which... Damn. By the Shade, how did they get there so fast?

"Captain," Myrne finally spoke, "the shields. They are now close enough to--" Vroom. The miniature earthquake taking place underneath their feet? Oh, it told them what Myrne couldn't, alright. (How? How did they know, even?! The position of the shield generators wasn't at all obvious-- in many ways, Inure's unique design was its best defense. Usually, they could blast the enemy to pieces before they even discovered what was going on! Had these mysterious hackers somehow received their blueprints? Unlikely, Iskra would like to think, but not entirely impossible, either. Inure's core was still a riddle only half-solved, so who knew whether they would be able to tell if it had been hacked? Someone familiar with the ship could... oh. What if... what if this was someone Verity knew? A crew made up of her people, to whom this ship held no secrets? Oh, by the Shade.)

"Alright. Alright, I see," Iskra said as she gathered herself from the floor, "Myrne, help me pilot. Take the other steering wheel. We have to find some kind of cover before we can even think of retaliating. Saavika, can you get the shields up again?"

"..."

"She's saying that, yes, she can, but it will take a while. Like, thirty minutes." Thirty minutes! As far as battles went, thirty minutes might as well have been an eternity.

"Fine, don't even try. For this fight alone, we won't have shields. Instead, go and fetch our favorite explosive cocktail. You know what I mean, right?" And, judging by Saavika's expression, she did-- at this point, there wasn't any other option. "Quickly!" Inure shook with another explosion then, and... shit. If this went on, Saavika wouldn't make it in time! So, what now? The other ship was too fast, so running wouldn't really buy them any time! ...something else might, though. "Ylna," she turned to her subordinate, "assume your position at the cannon. Wait for my signal. Myrne, let's see if we can't get the captain of the ship to speak to us." Stalling, stalling, stalling! Time was what they needed, and Iskra was determined to secure it.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" she asked when the call finally connected, her voice firm like steel. (...why was her heart beating so fast? It wasn't like this was... no, the pirate wouldn't even dare to think of that name. It had brought her nothing but pain, anyway-- pain and disappointment, coiling in her stomach. Bitterness the likes of which she'd never tasted before, truly.) "You are speaking to captain Iskra. Who commands this ship? What do you want from us?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Meanwhile, aboard The Serpent's Curse the women are all fixed on their individual assignments. While whoops and hollers can be heard from the turrets, Vega and Hina both making a competition over who can gun down the most cannons, the rest remain silent. Verity only speaks to make last minute addendums to her plan and Rosal pilots them through space expertly, as if she were trained in the very art of evasive maneuvers. However, if Rosal spins this ship one more Time, the exiled is certain she is going to eject the contents of her last meal. While she can appreciate her co-pilots skill, it also reminds Verity why she hates flying in smaller spacecrafts. 'Sweet sages, please let this end quickly,' she prays, for a moment letting her eyes close so that she can regain her sense of composure.

"Verity, they're attempting to make contact. Would you still like me to handle the negotiations?"

"Yes, I'll open a private channel and assist as necessary. Though I doubt you will need my help as I already believe we have a fair shot at outsmarting her as well as outplaying her," because, again, she doesn't think that the captain is that difficult to outwit. Without a sense of worry in the world, Verity takes over the main controls of the ship while Rosal focuses on talking to the pirate. When Iskra's voice travels into her ears, the exiled is glad she had decided to leave the call to Rosal, because hearing her voice for the first time in months––outside of memories and nightmares––only twists a knot into her stomach. (She'll call it anger, but the truth is more complex than that and there really isn't a name for the cocktail of emotions currently swimming through the exiled. Though each one makes her uncomfortable and each one only adds to her resolve to beat Iskra and claim the ship for herself. She isn't even convinced doing so will make her feel any better about her situation, but she cannot, for some reason, let go of this fixation. And maybe there is a part of her trying to take advantage of this random occurrence and prolong it even, as if it can act as a true placeholder for the moments she used to share with Iskra.)

"I have ears, captain Iskra, and they are in perfect working order," Rosal says, apparently deciding to lean into this role. "So, yes, I can hear you. You are speaking with Rosal, no titles or honorifics necessary. Are you aware you are attacking travelers? I am with my wife, another couple we know, and a friend. We had been hoping for a peaceful vacation to the dolphin isles, but alas... pirates got in our way. I think the more accurate question then, esteemed captain, would be to ask what you hope to gain from us?"

While Rosal handles the pirates, Verity and the rest of the crew continue to work at plucking off cannons and turrets. Perhaps the general rules of negotiation are to halt all operations, but between pirates and a crew of smugglers, are rules really necessary? No, Verity sees no reason to stop just because they are supposed to––in her eyes, this just gives her more advantages to blindside her opponents. Even if she can acknowledge that she is acting without respect or honor, she figures that being an exile means she has no lower to sink. It's also not like her crew is protesting.

Anyway, she does want Iskra to believe that they are going to destroy her ship if she does not flee and plucking off their weapons does not seem enough. Or maybe it is, but Verity does not want to risk the chance that they will call her bluff. There is one way in which she believes she can make it feel as though a threat is imminent––it has the potential to cause a rather volatile reaction within Inure herself, but it may be enough to scare the pirates into rethinking whatever it is that they are doing. "Vega, Hina––I'm sending you a target to lock onto you. I know it doesn't look like much of anything, but the ship's core is located somewhere around this back region. If we threaten the engines enough, we may be able to get the ship to reveal her heart," she says as she pulls the ship towards the location of the engines and thus Inure's core.

"What in the fuck are you even blip-blabbing about? It's motherfucking ship, not a fucking... fucking... wha––"

"Oh, shut up––you just don't want to lose our competition because you're already three behind me. Tell you what, whoever gets this hunk of opal to open up first wins it all––no questions. This could be your last chance to not eat my socks tonight!" Hina chimes in, apparently not worried about the logistics of what Verity has just said and more concerned with whatever petty bet she has established with her colleague.

That, at least, does get Vega to go along with Verity's plan without the exiled having to explain more than she wants to about this ship and her many secrets. (Or, not secrets, if one ever bothered to pay attention to Inure and realize she is, in fact, a living being. Iskra once showed the potential to understand... but Verity knows now that it had been a trick of her own mind more than anything else.)

"I can assure you," Rosal starts again, "there was no point in attacking a ship like ours and, I think it only fair that we put you, your crew, and your ship out of commision in order to protect the rest of the galaxy from such criminals. What say you to that, captain Iskra?"

 

[Syntra]

"Well, I am... happy for you, I suppose. That you get to have ears, I mean. Not everyone is as lucky." ...what? It was Rosal, not Iskra, who had started this off on a weird note. Just, what was that comment supposed to accomplish? Of course that she expected her to have ears! The connection could have been unstable, however, and so the pirate had figured she'd confirm whether the crew of The Serpent's Curse could hear her at all. (Was this some cultural nuance that her own ears couldn't catch, similarly to how the human eye wasn't calibrated to perceive certain colors? The remark could have meant anything! Perhaps it was a tradition among her people to cut off their firstborns' ears to earn their gods' blessings, or maybe an ear-rotting illness was ravaging her planet, or a large population of their children could have simply been born without them. So, so many explanations, and each stranger than the one before it! The old curiosity stirring within her? It wanted to know the truth, always, just like a compass that always pointed to the north, yet Iskra silenced it. Chasing her ridiculous desires had never won her anything but grief, after all-- the victories had all crumbled in her hand, like castles made of sand, and Iskra... no, Iskra couldn't sacrifice Inure on the altar of her stupidity. ...it was the only memento Verity had left behind, you know? Not voluntarily, and not with charitable intentions, either, but somehow, the pirate felt that she owed it to her to succeed. It only made sense, according to the dream-like logic she pursued! No, really. Just listen to her. If the princess had to lose her ship, her precious link to her ancestors, then it was up to her to ensure that she at least hadn't lost it for nothing. The triumph would be bought with the blood of her people, of course, but it would still be a win. Wasn't that infinitely more worthwhile than sentencing them to their doom, only to then fail as well? Ah yes, yes, surely! ...it had to be, otherwise the pirate wouldn't be able to look at her own reflection in the mirror. All of them would have to be shattered, in order to match the fate of her own soul.)

"Pirates, though?" Iskra raised her eyebrow, deciding to play dumb. (In the past, someone who had been dear to her had instructed her not to be so honest. Back then, she had scorned the advice, but perhaps it contained pearls of wisdom-- those could be found in unexpected places, even in filth. Time to inspect that hill of mud, Iskra supposed! ...besides, it wasn't like her lips could possibly become even more stained. A few lies wouldn't tarnish them further, just like a single empty can wouldn't make a difference in a junkyard.) "I am sorry, Rosal, but I have no idea what you are talking about. We've never shot at you, either. Are you sure you have the right coordinates? Me and my friends are merely passing through, just like you are. To me, this appears to be a grave misunderstanding." A ridiculous excuse to be sure, especially since their less powerful weapons kept shooting at them as she spoke, but who cared? Anything, anything to divert their attention away from what Saavika was doing! (The fluid required some careful handling, from what she understood. It couldn't hurt Inure itself, but the same wasn't true for her subordinates, and the pirate would hate for Saavika to lose her arms.)

"So, um. Surely, you'd agree with me that this is a rather awkward situation? Because it is," Iskra chuckled nervously. (That part, if nothing else, was authentic.) "I'd like to formally ask you, Rosal, to stop targeting us. If you don't, we will be forced to call upon the Guardians of this sector." Threatening them with the police was a new low, but Iskra assumed it could actually work-- mostly because The Serpent's Curse seemed to be about as innocent as a knife drenched in blood. (The fairytale about her wife and friends? Oh, Iskra hadn't believed it for a second. A normal couple enjoying their honeymoon wouldn't have been able to locate their weak spots this easily!) Practically mid-sentence, she spun the wheel to dodge another barrage, and did her best to ignore the sickly shade of green Myrne's face adopted. (I'm sorry, my friend, Iskra thought, but better for you to puke all over yourself than for us to die.) "I'm sure we don't need to drag the law enforcement into this, do we? I mean, I am fairly sure your ship doesn't possess all the identifying features the law requires you to have. Therefore, such an encounter could be unpleasant." And, again, so what if they didn't have them, either? Making sense wasn't the point here-- misdirection was, and just like with fireworks, the flashier it happened to be, the better for her crew. Screaming nonsense, then, was the equivalent of the sky burning! Good. Look at the spectacle, and allow yourself to be dazzled.

"Besides, we aren't criminals. Our intentions are pure, purer than freshly fallen snow, even, and... ahhh." Was that the signal? Why yes, it was! Saavika was grinning like a madman, and showing Iskra a thumbs up. Very well, then. "Do it, Saavika. Now!" And as for what she was meant to do? Well... Rosal and her friends clearly depended on the proximity-- correctly, they assumed Iskra wouldn't blow her own ship up. The catch, though? This little explosive had been made out of a substance Inure itself continuously produced, and so it couldn't harm it. Myrne's experiments had proved as much, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The Serpent's Curse, however, wouldn't be as lucky. Oh no, no, no. If it hit them in the right spot, Iskra knew, it could even tear them apart! With a hiss, the bomb began to follow their trajectory, and--

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

'Oh, sages, has she gone mad?' Verity wonders as she listens to the conversation between her co-pilot and the captain. Perhaps there is a hint of worry in her wonderings, though she does not acknowledge that. Instead, she focuses on her utter bafflement that Iskra is lying, and mind you, the lies are not even believable so she doesn't think they're that good. Yet, they seem to entertain Rosal enough that she happily continues chattering on with the captain––inventing more lies and perhaps even trying to come up with ones as ludicrous as the pirate's own. 'Ugh, it matters not what they say. It only matters that we succeed. Let them banter,' she thinks as she continues to dodge the blasts from Inure's less powerful weaponry. The ship does take a few hits here and there, Verity not being as expert a pilot as her counterpart, but Nadira confirms that they are mostly cosmetic. After all, their own shields are still in working order and are able to sustain hits from these lesser blasts (were they using the cannons, however, that would have decimated their defenses in a single shot, she assumes).

"Oh, if you aren't a pirate––my mistake. Are you aware, then, that your ship is wanted in seven different sectors? You should have cleared its records with the previous owners before making this purchase. Must be a coincidence too that the pirate this ship used to belong to, also goes by the name of Iskra. She has a fairly high bounty on her head, too. What I wouldn't give to become a rich woman off her head," Rosal says, giving the impression that her feet are kicked up on the control board while she files her nails––only half that statement is true. "Really, this is just bad luck then, but I assure you that we mean you no harm." As if Rosal has not just threatened to put them out of commision. As if Vega and Hina are not still shooting away at the panels that should reveal Inure's heart. "We'll be on our way, captain." Another obvious lie, but it just adds to the pile, really.

With such close proximity to the grand ancestor, Verity can feel her agitation with each blast sent towards her most precious life force. Still, she's far enough away that it's like a low ring in her ears and yet it is still enough to tell her that they are close to exposing that brilliant core of hers. (Part of her, the rational part, does understand that what she is doing is wrong––that the end does not justify the means and yet, Verity is unwilling to listen to that part of herself––so desperate to claim this for herself. So desperate to take it away from Iskra. Or maybe it's not even that at all. She isn't sure and she cannot stop herself now.) Just a few more well placed hits and they should be able to––

"Oh, shit––" Rosal says, still on the line with the captain as her eyes follow what appears to be a projectile hurling towards them. Without waiting for an order, the woman takes over the controls and calls out to the rest of the crew, "Everyone, strap in! Vega, that means you too!"

Verity can see the worry in the other woman's eyes and yet she doesn't seem to understand just why Rosal is concerning herself with that projectile. Sure, it looks bomb-shaped and generally that means one should fall back, but the exiled is hyper-focused on the fact that they're just at the precipice of upsetting the ship enough that she'll react and become unresponsive to any of Iskra or her crew's doings. Not able to assess the danger accurately for herself, she decides to take matters into her own hands––if Rosal wants to fallback, that's on her, but Verity is not going to give up when they are so close to destabilizing the ship. So rather than heed her co-pilot's advice, Verity runs through the ship and gathers her supplies––which consists of three detonators and a launching device.

She opens a hatch at the top of the ship and pokes her torso through the opening, with the launching device resting on her shoulder. Though Rosal is working to move their ship away from the target, Verity does not waste any Time to take aim. Hesitantly, though, she looks towards the helm as if searching for someone in particular and it even seems as though she's considering firing off the detonators towards the helm rather than the engines. If it is a thought in her mind, it passes quickly and she redirects the weapon towards her intended target and fires off all of her ammo. She isn't able to see the fruit of her work, because in the next moment the bomb that Iskra's crew had tossed ignites and the exiled is barely able to duck back into the ship before crystal flames stretch towards her and threaten to swallow everything in their path.

Though they avoid the worst of the blast, the ship still tumbles and rolls backwards from the force of it and with it, Verity is also tossed through the ship. It feels like an eternity, but in actuality it probably only lasts a half minute. When everything is settled once more, the alarms are blaring through the ship, she can smell fire coming from various areas, and she can hear the scrambling of her team as they quickly move to take care of the damages.

The exiled groans as she gathers herself from the floor and stumbles back towards the cockpit, collapsing into her seat without even noticing that Rosal is giving her a look that suggests she might as well be looking at someone who is completely unhinged. (And perhaps she is not too far off in her assessment––what Verity did had been entirely reckless, but it's not as if the exiled seems to care.) "I-is everyone okay?" she mutters, touching a cut across her forehead and inspecting the blood as if she is truly surprised she's injured.

"... Yes, no one other than yourself is hurt. You know that was stupid, right? Somewhat brilliant, but also really fucking reckless and I'm married to Vega," Rosal finally says before turning her attention back towards Inure. Whatever else she had to say, she must decide to save it for later because her jaw drops. "––wait a minute, is that a star? Inside of the ship?"

"Nevermind that," Verity says, again not wanting to say much about what she's just exposed. "Just get us inside, but don't land. They won't be able to reach this part of the ship unless I open the gate. It's safe, I assure you."

Rosal looks skeptical and as if she has far more questions than Verity will ever be willing to answer, but she goes ahead with the plan and rushes the ship into the open cavity. Now just what does Verity plan to do from here? That answer comes when she tells Nadira to take over in the cockpit and she clambers into a turret and shoots the core, causing Inure to shake and wail out in Pain. And, yes, Verity can feel every ounce of her grand ancestor's anguish––but she still seems determined to follow through with her plan. Finally, she patches a call through to the helm.

"Are you willing to let your crew die with this ship, captain?"

 

[Syntra]

"Oh, truly?" Iskra raised her eyebrow, trying her best to sound surprised. (It worked out, more or less-- even if for slightly different reasons than her enemy probably would have anticipated. Seven different sectors, huh? Had the pirate been more prideful, this would have felt like a slap in her face! Meager seven sectors, pffft. For years, Inure's shadow had been hanging over the galaxy, and doubtlessly plagued the Guardians' dreams. When they woke up in cold sweat, Iskra was willing to wager, it was because they'd glimpsed Inure's silhouette with their mind's eye. Surely the woman didn't actually think their infamy only extended so far, then? ...hmmm, hmmm. What a curious mix of intimate knowledge and ignorance! Almost as if... as if there were multiple sources of information on that ship. Someone other than the captain, hiding in the background and pulling the strings. No, the pirate shook her head. Just, stop inventing conspiracy theories. It is entirely possible that she just knows how these ships work in general-- it's not like being familiar with Inure specifically is the only explanation here. You're just seeing what you want to see, stupid. She's gone. Ashes in the wind.) "That is unfortunate, indeed. I didn't buy the ship, though. Through my ashewaras' lineage, I inherited it, and in the same way, I received my name. That the previous Iskra used to be such a dastardly woman saddens me greatly." Again, that wasn't even a lie. All of the Iskras, every single one of them, had brought her much shame! ...oh, if only they'd judged her rotten, and snapped her neck during The Reaping. The sky still would have been intact, and The Holy Vessel alive, and... and Verity might have been reunited with her ship, for all that was worth. Her blood would have fed the earth, too, despite its impurity. Something beautiful could have blossomed from it, and everyone would have been happy. Instead, though? Instead, she was stuck in this half-existence, with her soul tainted by rot! Alive yet dead, saintly yet born in sin-- a daughter of contradictions, seven times damned. Oh well.)

"But, yes. The Iskra you're seeking is dead already, I'm afraid! You'll have to find other pirates to hunt, my friend. Although, if I may offer a suggestion? Perhaps it would be more beneficial for you to buy an orchard, and plant trees. Wealth earned in unclean ways will weigh on your mind." ...as Iskra herself knew, better than anyone. The lesson, of course, would be lost on this low-life-- on this woman without honor, who didn't hesitate to shoot during negotiations. Despicable, truly! (And that the pirate was doing the same? Irrelevant. Wickedness settled in her skull, yes, but she was beyond salvation, and had been for a while. Trying to grasp something better for herself would be like... well, like hoping you could rewrite a book that had been published already. A vain endeavor, and foolish one as well. Iskra's last chapters ended in blood, oh, she knew, she knew! ...others weren't quite as hopeless, however, so seeing them throw away their chances was heartbreaking.)

"I won't bore you further, though. Fare thee well, captain Rosal. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you the safest of travels."

And, roughly at that moment? The bomb exploded, sending out a shock wave so powerful Iskra could feel it in her teeth. (Ah, goodness gracious. Had they gone overboard? There wouldn't be much to steal if the ship burned down, after all, and besides, she wasn't particularly interested in murder! The key to maintaining a terrifying reputation wasn't being overly brutal-- oh no, no, no. Quite the contrary. If survivors couldn't tell the tales of your deeds, how were rumors supposed to spread? Every legend needed its bards, and these people did the job for free. Like the wind, they helped to spread whispers, and... and they also hadn't done anything wrong, aside from choosing to oppose her. For that, death was too cruel of a punishment!

So, absurdly, Iskra found herself praying for their survival-- and perhaps far more successfully than she would have liked.

"Wha!" Myrne shouted when Inure shook, groaning in pain. "What is happening? Shooting at us right now is madness! What are they thinking?!" That Iskra couldn't tell, but she knew what had to be done. Swiftly, the captain spun the steering wheel, and... nothing.

"It's... it's ignoring me," Iskra said, astonished. "I don't understand."

"Well, that's fucking fascinating, and I'm glad you're amused, but do you have like, a solution to this goddamn mess? 'Cause I'm not having fun over there!" Ylna shouted, her voice sharp like glass.

...which, a valid concern. What was she supposed to do with a ship that no longer responded to her commands?! Perhaps, if Iskra went to the engine room, she could discover what was troubling Inure-- if not, then a song could calm it down, potentially, and soothe its fears. ('I'm with you,' the pirate wanted to say to the ship. 'Worry not. If you just let me know what's wrong, I shall remove the danger.')

Except that it turned out she wouldn't get a chance to do so.

A different message arrived, one that was much more threatening in tone, and... huh. Was this Rosal? It didn't sound like Rosal, yet there was this flavor of familiarity that Iskra couldn't place. (Sweet and sour at the same time, truly. A memory that made her heart want to dance, and also fling itself off the nearest cliff. ...still, despite her confusion, Iskra knew that the time to play games had ended. With the lives of her crew in jeopardy, she had to swallow her vial of poison!)

"No!" the captain shouted. "No, I yield. If it is me you want, then come and take me. I won't defend myself."

"Iskra--"

"Silence. As I said, I won't defend myself. You wish to claim the bounty, right? Do it, if that is your plan. I'm the only one whose head is worth anything around here, though. Let my women go, and I won't cause you any trouble. A fair deal, is it not?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

In all honesty, Verity does not think that the captain's offer had been a fair trade when she had been so close to reclaiming the relic of her people. (A relic she is now responsible for causing Grief, but, just as when she has made any of her decisions, she does not think of this. The guilt would just add to the burden already placed on her back and if another weight is added she knows her legs will give out and she will be crushed. Again, she justifies her actions with knowing that she can restore Inure; that she can soothe her sad songs; that she can treat this ship with care like no other ever has––perhaps save for Celestia and Aurora. Though she can do none of that with parasites still infecting her and commanding her as if she is but a mere machine and not something deserving of her own consideration. In her mind, this is the only way to get her people's ship back and to save the grand ancestors, because she knows that she must be forceful as Iskra will not just hand it over. She has already tried to get the pirate to do so once before––albeit, her methods of negotiation back then had not been tactful though she still assumes the pirate wouldn't have given her up had she been more diplomatic.) The only reason that Verity agrees with the trade? The rest of the team felt it was fair––they don't necessarily care about the ship and her potential value when they know exactly the cost of Iskra; it's more assured and less work for them to hand over Iskra to highest bidder than to scrap an entire ship and haggle for prices. Iskra, on the other hand? Oh, she's wanted in so many different sectors that all they need to do is make a few calls and wait for the bids to come in.

So, in the end, Rosal accepts the deal and Verity pretends to go along with the majority. However, she is not pleased that they are now forced to keep her, that woman, that pirate, aboard their ship. It fills her with an odd sense of dread. At least in the fairytale she had been spinning in her head, when she thought they could take this ship for themselves, she imagined her interaction with Iskra would be brief and more of a, 'Look who bested you. How does it feel?' and now... Now it is just so much more complicated than that. She decides against greeting the pirate when she is taken into their custody, choosing instead to brood in the cockpit while they secure her in the holding cell (The Serpent's Curse did belong to a bounty hunter before it belonged to smugglers, so at least no one has to sacrifice their quarters for the pirate).

Though as much as she wants to avoid the pirate, she knows she will have to face her eventually. (Well, she reasons that, no, she doesn't have to do anything. She can continue to avoid Iskra if she so chooses; she can keep it a secret who bested the pirate; she can let the pirate be carted off to the highest bidder without ever saying so much as a hello or even letting her catch a glimpse of her face. All of those ideas are appealing and yet... yet, Verity knows she owes her more than that.) She decides, then to follow in the footsteps of the pirate who had once been her captor. This doesn't need to be needlessly cruel, as angry as she is––but oddly enough her anger doesn't even seem directed towards Iskra specifically. Some of it is, and rightfully so, but much more of it pulls her from different directions.

With a sigh, she stares down the hallway, knowing at the end, Iskra is hidden behind that steel door. For a moment, she considers asking Nadira or Rosal to take care of bringing their prize her meals, but she had already committed to the task earlier so she walks forward. Each step filling her with trepidation; each step causing her heart to vibrate at a rhythm she is almost certain will cause her to pass out; each step like getting closer to facing her demons, to be honest.

She knocks on the door by way of warning before it hisses open and activates a yellow electric barrier, similar to the one that she had become familiar with while held on Inure. "I suppose I never expected to meet again. Certainly not under these circumstances, captain Iskra," she says, her voice coming off surprisingly steady, despite her own nerves. Despite being entirely unprepared to look at the pirate again. Especially as memories of their last encounter and the ones leading up to it fill her mind once more. She grips the tray of food tighter. She cannot tell if she still misses the captain now that those memories are at her forefront. 'Perhaps this was unwise. I am likely the last person she expected to see... or even wants to see.' Still, for some reason, she says, "I am told that communion can bring people together. A cause to understand one another. If you wish to have company with your meals, I would be willing to oblige such a request." She sets the tray on the ground; on it the captain will find lentil soup, bread, and, most curiously, a dandelion. (Now just where did Verity find a dandelion on such short notice? Is it possible her crew enjoys their nutrients? Is it possible she keeps them around to brighten her room? Who knows.) "As I recall, you no longer feel the cold, but I provided extra blankets anyway."

 

[Syntra]

I suppose, Iskra thought, that this is only fitting. A wild animal, after all, didn't deserve anything but chains-- a cage, a collar, maybe daily meals if she learned how to behave herself. Some semblance of comfort, perhaps, in case they found mercy in their hearts before striking her down. (...which would happen, the pirate didn't doubt. Her undying nature would make it difficult, yes, but oh, were there fates worse than physical death! A death of the spirit, for example. A death of hope, too. And the saddest thing about it? That they couldn't kill her in these ways, no matter how hard they tried. Oh no, no, no. It wasn't because her soul soared the skies like an eagle, and thus couldn't be contained,-- no, it was because those parts of her had died ages ago. Nothing but ashes remained, ashes and the walking corpse called Iskra, and... and perhaps this could be mildly exciting, actually. Wouldn't it be fun, to discover all those ways in which she still could die? Fun and strangely affirming, maybe, for it would also show her the ways in which she was still alive. If nothing else, it is good that the others are safe.)

Ahh, the others. They'd look for her, Iskra knew, and Myrne in particular would move mountains with her bare hands just to see her face again, but the pirate knew better than to cling to foolish hopes. Inure's engines had been disabled, specifically to prevent them from engaging in any meaningful pursuit, and while Saavika probably worked tirelessly to repair them... well. It just wasn't enough, was it? With space travel, every second lost was like a boulder attached to their hull! Too many of them, indeed, and not even the most powerful ship would manage to take off. Among the stars, trails went cold so, so quickly, too-- as if they'd never existed in the first place, much like fata morgana. For those reasons, and many others, Iskra had already said goodbye to her friends in her heart. (Who knew? Maybe they'd meet again, if the Shade willed it so. The pirate wished they didn't, though, for she had no idea what kind of shape her impeding deaths would twist her into. Would she still know them, and the kindness with which they'd treated her? Or would she, like a mad dog, attempt to bite the hands that had once fed her? Oh, the Shade forbid! For the sake of everyone involved, Iskra had to disappear. Let them remember her how she wanted to be remembered, instead of soiling the memory with the cruel reality! ...maybe this was a strange form of blessing, too-- them not having to witness her inevitable descent into madness, that was. In their minds, at least, the pirate could remain herself. Some version of herself, anyway.)

Time flowed strangely in her cell, like molasses, kind of, and the distortion weighed on her. How much time had she spent there already? Hours? Days? Humans would probably be able to estimate it roughly via their hunger, but Iskra didn't even have that measuring stick-- she was nothing, you see, and so her stomach also demanded nothing. (A perfect machine, truly. Why oh why had she tried to break away from her fate? Every single bone in her body, every single cell, even, had been designed for a specific purpose! Following it could have won her some kind of glory, but in its rejection, only suffering was to be found, and... and that was fair, Iskra decided. Grasping that which did not belong to you should not remain unpunished, as the common sense dictated. Always, always you reaped the fruits of your labor! ...and the fruits of your destruction, too. Eh. At least I know that, no matter what, my crew will pursue my mission. In that, I haven't failed.)

Speaking of destruction, though? Iskra's eyes widened when Verity out of all people entered her cell, carrying a tray with food. Oh. Oh! This... made sense, on some level. It worked out nicely, too, as a karmic punishment of sorts. (A captor and a captive, with their roles switched. How entertaining! ...or it would have been, actually, had cold dread not settled in her chest. What did Verity want from her? She spoke kindly, mirroring her own words to the princess, but oh, the pirate didn't believe them for a second. Not for a fraction of it. Stupid she may have been, sure, though not quite stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice! Communion, pffft. Understanding. That was a game they'd played over and over, wasn't it? Back when they'd shared meals, Iskra had gifted so many of her thoughts to Verity-- wrapped in shiny paper, too, and in promises of service. It hadn't worked out, despite everything. Why should it work out now, with this rift between them? (Princesses weren't there to understand the plight of monsters, after all. No, they were meant to be rescued from their clutches, and to dance on their graves, and... and this was what this was, probably. A way to bury her alive, really, even as her traitorous heart kept beating. Whenever Verity had come to her with an olive branch, it had been covered in thorns, hadn't it? This instance, in that case, couldn't be all too different. The pattern spoke for itself. Sweetly, the princess would sing to her, and extract secrets from her mind, and then, then she'd use them like a knife! ...if she let her, that was.)

Finally, Iskra looked up, and her eyes were dead. (Unafraid, yes, but also completely devoid of its spark. Rotting waters.) "I know not what you want from me, but you won't get it. Are you hoping to gain information here, perhaps? Find a better source, then. Ideally one who hasn't been trained not to provide it." Because, no, Iskra wouldn't betray her crew. Prolonged torture could open her mouth, though, and in order to prevent that... well. Shade, give me strength. That short prayer? It was all the hesitation she allowed herself to indulge in before biting down, hard, on her own tongue. Blood filled her mouth immediately, gross and metallic, but Iskra proceeded slam her jaw upwards with her hand, for she had to sever it, sever it--

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕
​

There is no expectation in the former princess's mind that Iskra will actually accept her offer to join her for meals. In fact, the very thought that she might, by some slim estimates, fills Verity with dread. Whatever waterfalls used to spill between them had run out. Despite all the questions that linger in her mind––wonderings about the pirate and how she has fared, wonderings about the pirate and why she has not perished, wonderings about if she misses her––they all sit at the tip of her tongue and she swallows them whole, nearly choking on each one. There are so many things she might still have to say to the pirate, but those days, she knows, are over. The offer, while said in earnest, is one hopes will be declined because even if she has all of these things to say she has no idea how to start. Not anymore. It used to be easy, she remembers. They could have spent hours in silence, reading through the collection of books that Iskra kept, and all it would take is a curious comment or question to light a fire in the room and watch all the colors dance as they wrestled with their words. She does miss that and somewhere she also knows that she doesn't need the pirate to have a stimulating conversation and yet, at the same Time, she wants to share these things with only the pirate. She just does not know how and guesses that ship has sailed anyway.

She also figures it is for the best. After all, why should she want to make peace with this woman anyway? Iskra has never understood her, not in any meaningful way at least and that had been all but proven when she spit on her ancestors. (That memory ignites a flame so hot that Verity can hardly touch it, even after all this Time.) A quest to find the wayfinder should have never been started with an outsider and she will take the blame for even entertaining the idea, for even chancing that the relic of her people will fall into inferior hands. Now she is no closer to regaining the piece––in fact she may be further away. Perhaps Halen had been right to question the pursuit of these objects when she first brought it to her attention; perhaps she should have listened and let them be lost to space and Time. Instead they could have focused their efforts on securing actual resources rather than fantasy items––even if it would have made her claim to the throne unquestionable and likely would have inspired the people to take what is theirs. Truly, though, it was like praying for a miracle. All the search has done is soiled her hands and made her rotten. All it did was help her lose all her friends. Or maybe she did that on her own. She isn't sure. (She wouldn't necessarily consider her current company friends; friendly, sure, but not friends. She only has herself to blame for that too, only telling them partial truths about herself and all. Though the decision to lie to them is not one she regrets, because there are too many thorns in her past and she is not ready to pull them from herself and acknowledge the wounds.)

Though she avoids looking at the pirate directly, finding it far too... not Painful per se, but confusing to do so, she observes her through quick glances as her eyes skirt over the cell. (Does her heart beat because it is mad? Because it is still fond of Iskra? To the Divinities if the exiled knows any of this.) When her eyes cut across the cell once more, she catches Iskra's gaze and allows herself to stare into those eyes. 'These are not Iskra's eyes,' she thinks, noticing that they lack something she used adore. She cannot place what exactly is gone, but they are not the same eyes that caused her to stumble when they sparred.

However, when Iskra finally speaks to her, it is Verity's turn for her eyes to go wide. The words come as a surprise, because Verity herself hardly knows why she had come to see her––aside from the guise that she is bringing Iskra her meals. So the idea that the pirate has anything to offer her is almost laughable. Maybe she would have laughed if the captain's next series of actions did not send ice through her veins that freezes her. At first, she hasn't a clue what the pirate is doing or what she hopes to accomplish. However, it becomes clear when Iskra slams her palm into her own jaw as it does not take a scientist to figure out just what she is trying to do in the context of what she has just said.

Once the initial shock passes over her, Verity immediately launches herself into the cell––not caring about the potential danger she is putting herself in, concerned more that Iskra is going to permanently damage herself for no reason. "Iskra!" she shouts, panic evident in her tone, and if not there then in her eyes, as she tackles the pirate and tries to pry her hand from her jaw––trying to force her mouth open by pinching her nose, trying to get her own fingers into the other's mouth to stop her. "Stop this nonsense at once! I want nothing from you! You have no information that is useful to me!" Just why does she think this is an option? "I-Iskra, please––"