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

[Syntra]

More blood clogged her mouth, enough of it to fill an entire ocean, it seemed, but oh, she still needed more, more, more! With blood, it was always more, somehow. Perhaps because steel was a soldier's connection to divinity...? Oh yes, yes. Gods demanded their worship, you see, and the best way to worship a sword was to let it do its goddamn job. (Her being the one to bleed was something of a twist, though. A pleasant twist, too-- in a way, it felt like she had had it coming for a long, long time now. A just punishment, like the ones that featured in fairy tales so very often. Concentrated karma, really! Venom had dripped from her tongue, bitter and deadly, and it had tainted everything it had ever touched, and... and losing it struck her as a good thing, all of a sudden. How come it hadn't occurred to her sooner, actually? To save an organism, a gangrenous limb had to be cut off! ...there was no denying that a vicious infection had claimed her tongue, alright. Without it, Iskra might have listened with her whole heart instead of focusing on letting her voice be heard-- without it, she might have not hurt the princess in ways that couldn't be excused. First, my tongue, the pirate thought sardonically, then my hand. How's that for redemption? Fairly unsustainable, even she could see that, but at that point, Iskra was beyond caring. Why should she even try to sustain something like herself? You didn't generally aim to preserve stains, after all. Oh no, no, no. They were to be removed, so they couldn't deface their surroundings any longer! Besides, the prospect was... weirdly satisfying, for some reason. Something about it clicked, like a piece of puzzle she had been trying to place for ages-- the matchiness of it all, undoubtedly. A mutilated soul resting in a mutilated shell? How very, very apt! Surely, nobody could accuse her of being a deceiver if you could look at her and tell with a glance that chunks of her were missing. Large chunks, too.)

It hurt, of course. That pain was a familiar companion as well, though, and so the pirate doubled down-- it was what she deserved, anyway. (The instincts that screamed at her to stop? Oh, their voice was so faint, so faded, that Iskra didn't hear it anymore! Their presence was more assumed than truly felt, really, and happily, the pirate continued to ignore them. What she couldn't ignore, however, was Verity. Verity who, as per usual, lacked the good sense not to stick her nose where it didn't belong. Just, what was she trying to accomplish here?! Did the princess derive joy from thwarting her plans, regardless of their shape? ...too bad, then. Too bad, for her incompetence only played into her hands. Death, you see, could be her gate to victory, too! Many times, Iskra would have to pass through it, but eventually, the merciful fog would fill her head. The memories that could compromise her mission would get lost within, just like the pirate herself, and everything would be... well, not fine, but better than it was. The stain would still be there, though less visible, which had to count for something.)

Struggling was a supremely bad idea, so naturally, that was exactly what Iskra did. As blood streamed down her mouth, she thrashed, and writhed, and tried to shove Verity away-- the exertion only made her breathe harder, which forced the liquid back inside. Except that, whoops, more of it was on the way! (Funny, indeed. On a theoretical level, Iskra knew very well just how much blood was coursing through her veins, but she was never truly aware of it till it gushed out, like a waterfall of rubies. Was it beautiful or terrifying? ...something in between, the pirate thought. Most things in life were.)

Distantly, she could hear Verity's voice-- something about her not wanting to extract any information from her, and blah blah blah. Pleading as well, if she wasn't terribly mistaken. What did it matter, though? The blood had reached her lungs by then, and every breath burned, burned worse than all the fires she had ever lighted, worse than the ghosts of bone blades still stuck in her chest, and--

--convulsing wildly, the pirate collapsed into Verity's arms. Her lips opened, perhaps in an attempt to say something, but the only thing that came out was more blood. Like a waterfall, it continued to flow, without a sign of it stopping! Beautiful, Iskra decided in the end, before the darkness embraced her. It is beautiful, after all. A painter she couldn't be, no, but perhaps she could at least be the canvas-- a masterpiece to be created, admired, spat upon, destroyed, and then resurrected from her own ashes, again and again and again. The image of god, in truth. The Holy Vessel, as always, had had the right idea.

***

If Iskra had to choose a leitmotif phrase that would describe her life, 'as always' would be a good candidate. No, really. A cycle was all it was, without twists, without new developments-- a barren wasteland, devoid of meaning. The same movie played over and over, to the point the tape had caught fire. The Shade not dragging her back, kicking and screaming? That would have been something new, so of course that didn't happen. (Of course, of course, of course. The words sounded like rain in her head, drumming in her ears rhythmically. It wasn't the kind of rain that lulled you to sleep, however-- for that, it was far too annoying, far too disruptive. Gun shots more than rain, now that she thought of it.)

So, just like so many times before, the pirate opened her eyes. She did so slowly, with a certain reluctance, which... huh. Where was she, actually? Somehow, this place didn't feel like Inure. It didn't look like Inure, either, not even after her eyes got used to the new level of brightness, and yes, that should have been alarming. Should have been and wasn't, mostly because knowing that and actually feeling that way were two different things. With her mind still wandering elsewhere, it just... didn't feel as important, you know? Nothing did. "Where," she began nonetheless, her voice hoarse, "where am I?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

To the very end, Verity struggles with Iskra, trying to get her to cease her needless mutilations––somewhere in her mind she might have found it commendable that the pirate is willing to go to such great lengths to protect all of the secrets inside of herself; the other part of her, however, is only reminded that Iskra is still as half-witted as she had been when Verity left her on that desolate planet. Except now, rather than be annoyed with that trait, she finds anger stirring in her belly as she pleads with the woman to stop, even as Iskra's hands push her away she comes back to the pirate again and again, trying to pry her mouth open while also not intending to do more damage. (She doesn't realize how all of this is playing into the captain's ploy in one way or another. Though if she had? Would she have given up and let Iskra mutilate herself or would she still fight against all logic? That hardly matters at this point.)

As Iskra convulses and finally collapses in her arms, complete with that familiar dead weight, a flurry passes over the exiled. She shakes the dead woman in her arms as tears bite at the corners of her eyes and she doesn't try to stop them from spilling down her cheeks and collecting over Iskra's face. "I-Iskra!" she all but pleads, her heart thundering in her chest as the world around her melts into the garden. The smell of all those flowers filling her nose, mixed in with Iskra's blood that now coats her front and hands. Her eyes widen and she drops the body to the ground, realizing she needs to get out. She needs to flee the scene, because otherwise someone is going to catch her and she cannot let that happen lest she fail her people once more––

'No––no, no, no!'

This cannot be where she is. She cannot be on Inure. She is not in the garden. She has already killed Iskra before and when she had done that it had been with her own bone, not through struggle. And yet, when she looks up, the garden remains around her––she can hear the waterfall, smell the flowers, feel the dirt beneath her knees, and most of all she has the dead pirate in front of her. She needs to get out.

"Ver, you okay? I heard someth––oh, shit..." someone mutters from across the garden (down the hall).

The exiled blinks hard, trying to catch her breath and place herself, but nothing, nothing is making any sense to her! Who is this woman? She's not one of Iskra's crew... No, she's... she's––

"Nadira," she exhales, the garden disappearing before her eyes though the dead woman is still at her feet and she is covered in her blood (again). "I––I need air... explain later," she mumbles, dashing past her colleague and heading straight for her room, her hands shaking as she tries to place the recent events in her mind.

.............​

In the coming days Verity remains despondent and distant from her colleagues. While she is able to explain, somewhat, what had occurred and is able to assure them that Iskra is not dead-dead that is about all they are able to get out of her. None are necessarily in disbelief. After all, each of their respective home planets have lore regarding immortal beings; and while Rosal and, in particular, Vega worry about Iskra being an aswang, Verity convinces them enough that Iskra is not a monster––despite what she has claimed before. While they worry all worry over Verity's odd reaction––odd because they have seen her deal with Death before and never once has she been so shaken––they decide to leave her be though Rosal starts to keep an annoyingly close watch on her. (Is it out of concern? Or is it out of worry that Verity is growing soft on them?)

For the most part, however, Verity waits in her room for the pirate's return. She doesn't really know how long it is supposed to take, because the last Time this had happened she had been left alone in her timeless cell without any knowledge of the hours, days, or weeks that had passed. Even when the pirate had reappeared, she was never told whether Iskra had waited to see her or if she had come immediately after her revival. In any case, thinking about how long this should take does not help Verity's mind at all. Though it at least takes her mind off of the flashbacks and nightmares that plague her every moment with no sense of reprieve in sight.

(While she Sleeps, her mind crafts wicked dreams of Iskra in her garden. Iskra, happily tending to the greenery and speaking with the flowers. In these dreams, Verity walks up behind her, her wrists split open from the knives she has produced. The scent of blood must fill the captain's nose for she turns around and looks to the princess, her eyes locking onto the daggers in Verity's hands. Iskra's head tilts to the side as her familiar shy smile graces her lips, "Verity, my guiding star. You can always ask this of me." Without further prompting, the pirate takes the knives from Verity's hands, so gently, so delicately. "Let me take this burden of yours," she says, so kindly as she raises the daggers into the air and plunges them into her chest once, twice, three times until she collapses to her knees. However, when Iskra looks up, it's not the depths of the ocean that Verity stares into but crystalline blue eyes, and suddenly her cheeks look as if they have been kissed by the sun and––Seraphina smiles at her as she bleeds out in the garden. "Oh, storyteller," the queen says, blood falling from her mouth like a waterfall, "may the poets remember Verity the Incorrigible and her insatiable need for her lovers' blood. Well, don't just stand there like an idiot. Feed from my essence. Tell me if I taste as sweet as strawberries.")

Finally, at some point, perhaps in the dead of night or the early hours of the morning, Verity hears the monitor synced to Iskra's vitals humming to Life and she shoots upright in her bed to look over at the device. Quickly, she gathers her coat over her shoulders and heads towards the prison cell––she doesn't know why she is so eager to see Iskra again when last Time, but three days ago (she thinks), had ended in such disaster and yet perhaps the affliction that makes her stupid is getting worse, because her mind tunnels on the fact that Iskra is alive. The notion doesn't make her happy, but it does relieve her.

She arrives just before Iskra's eyes open and positions herself in the corner of the room, pulling out a seat from the wall. When Iskra speaks, in that strained way she remembers from the last Time she had revived, the exiled seems to breathe normally again, for the first Time since her suicide. She doesn't know exactly what to do, internally wondering if she should have maybe brought her sustenance and perhaps wondering if she should have gone to find one of the others to assist Iskra. She shakes her head, shaking away those worries, and deciding it does need to be her here with the pirate. "Iskra," she whispers, her voice soft and still carrying across the small prison cell. (Somehow she is not at all concerned with her proximity to the prisoner. It's not that she thinks Iskra won't attack her, she's already proven she isn't against harming Verity, but more that... more that she doesn't care if that is the outcome.) "You are on The Serpent's Curse––you surrendered yourself to us a few days ago."

She pauses for a beat, either to let the pirate take in this information or for herself to gather her own thoughts. "Iskra, I mean no offense when I say this, but I do not want any information that you have. I have only ever been interested in the relics of my people––the only thing you have is my people's ship. My colleagues care not for the information you have either. They are far more interested in the bounty they will collect by turning you over." Which is imminently approaching, since they have already unloaded their last cargo haul and are on their way to pick up their next job; dropping off Iskra to whoever wants her is simply a side-errand for them at this point. "Iskra..." she says, maybe just to say her name and remember how it feels on her tongue. She likes it more than 'captain' and perhaps she doesn't care about putting up superficial divides anymore. "Do you––do you need anything? I'm not familiar with how to aid someone through re-awakening."

 

[Syntra]

...ah. Ah, yes. When she reached into the depths of her mind, Iskra did remember, in this strangely blurred way-- the Shade had touched those memories with its claw, marked them as its property, but hadn't bothered to claim them. Not yet, anyway. (Somehow, that made it worse. Had it plucked them away from her, in the same way you took ripe apples from the apple tree? Their very existence would be forgotten, and that which you didn't know about could not hurt you. Inure, their meeting with the cursed ship, or her decision to sacrifice herself-- all of those would have existed in a timeless void, inaccessible to the pirate. The Shade would have gorged on them, too! Eagerly, it would have savored every last drop of despair, of sorrow, and like a pig before slaughter, it would have been drowning in its own fat by now. ...except that, you know, in this analogy, Iskra was the one to be slaughtered. The day would come, she knew, when the Shade ripped her meager shell apart, and made a cloak out of her skin. A natural progression to her story, wasn't it? One that had been foreshadowed, over and over and over. Always, always had they asked her to carve more off herself, and put the meat on their plates-- to provide, in the most fundamental of ways. Oh yes, yes. Iskra had trained for this, for the entirety of her life! ...and, besides, debts had to be paid. That was justice, perhaps even in its purest form. It wasn't pretty, but true justice, not dressed in soothing phrases, rarely was. Exchanging eyes and teeth, after all, required a strong stomach.)

Speaking of that old adage, though? The pirate supposed that, yes, this was justice, too-- her being captured by the princess, that was. Hadn't she taken her freedom away months ago, in a strikingly similar manner? Even Verity's attitude mirrored hers! This... this peculiar cocktail of gentleness, with a drop of poison to keep things fresh. A friendly smile that was also so sharp it could cut her, and the unspoken threat of bloodshed hanging in the air. (What? Could you not hear it? But, oh, Iskra's ears could! Finely tuned as they were, they couldn't miss the sizzling of the electric barrier, or how self-assured Verity's words sounded. All the power was in her hands now, just like it had used to reside in hers, and the princess knew it. Which, again, was entirely fair! Nothing that she hadn't done to her first, really. Using the same kind of logic, the pirate wondered idly, am I allowed to murder her? ...not that Iskra really wanted to do that, mind you. No, not even remotely. Staining herself further would accomplish exactly nothing, you see, aside from maybe burying her humanity that much deeper. It struck her in that moment that Verity might enjoy it, though-- Verity, who had asked for the gift of clarity when they'd talked all those months ago. 'Why don't you act like the monster you are, you liar?' the princess in her memories demanded to know. 'Deceiver! Twisted thing! How could you hide your true nature like that?' ...and yet, yet now she spoke so kindly, her words wrapped in what seemed to be sympathy. Had Verity forgotten already? Should she remind her? Should she remind her that the Iskra that was lying on the bed, ostensibly helpless, was the same Iskra that had murdered innocents just to save her pathetic skin?

...perhaps. It would have been the right thing to do, judging by Verity's last words, at least, but Iskra decided she wasn't responsible for the woman's terrible memory, nor was she required to do the right things. For that, the pirate was way too tired! Later, maybe? Later, when the princess' sweetness inevitably turned into acid, and tried to devour all there was to be devoured about her. (...why was she trying, even? With so little meat on her bones, Iskra would make for an exceedingly poor meal. Oh well, though! Princesses ate what they liked, the pirate guessed. With them, it had never been about sustenance.)

"Ah... yes," she said, slowly, with her voice uncharacteristically rough-- sandpaper, really, instead, of the usual velvet. "I do remember now. I don't understand, but I remember." So, Verity wasn't after information, huh? Even assuming that was true, which Iskra wasn't at all sure about, there were a few glaring issues with her logic. "So, if I understand this right," the pirate began, "you are going to sell me to the highest bidder. You may not want any information, princess, but what about them? Can you guarantee that they won't torture me? That they won't make me betray my people, through blood and fire? Because I doubt that whoever agrees to pay for me will do so just to enjoy the privilege of my company." It was hard to think with this fog in her head, when nothing looked as sharp as it was supposed to, but still, Iskra pushed through. She had to!

"I don't need anything, princess. I never do. However, know this-- you won't succeed. You won't hand me over to anyone, or at least not in any way that would matter." Bitterly, the pirate laughed. "Do you know how easy it is for us to die, Verity? Truly, we are ridiculously fragile. I'm very familiar with my own anatomy, too, and so I know a lot of... interesting tricks. You won't be able to stop me. I'll do it, again and again and again, till I become useless to anyone who would buy me. Good luck with your sale, I suppose, for you shall need it. Although... yes, you might still win, in a way. I imagine a lot of my enemies are petty enough to simply want to hurt me, with no grand goal in mind. I suggest focusing on those, because they at least won't feel swindled."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Just what is Verity even doing? The question repeats itself daily. It's one that Verity pushes from her mind, figuring there is always more Time for her to sort out this next phase in her Life. Yet the question rings louder than a gong when she is sitting across the room from Iskra. It's not that she cares about the pirate's opinion of her, but she remembers everything that she has ever told the captain about her plight and her own mission. Even if she doesn't wonder what the pirate might make of a princess who has abandoned her people for vain things, it is a question that gets turned back on herself when she is looking at the pirate who contains a meager fraction of her history... somewhere in that mind of hers. So just what does Verity think about her decision to pursue not even Glory or Gore, but... nothing in particular––because there is nothing honorable in smuggling. While she does not judge her company for their work, she knows that to pursue this path when she has so many others to take is deplorable. Nearly unforgivable if she had more room on her list of her unforgivable crimes.

The exiled presses her back against the seat of the chair while one leg crosses over the other, her hands sit neatly in her lap. She certainly looks composed from the outside, but since she has spent her Life in silence it becomes easy to play charades. (It feels like eons ago when she felt more herself around the pirate than anyone else who had ever stepped into her Life––save perhaps for her own family. Now she just doesn't quite feel she knows how to let her mask drop again. Or maybe she doesn't feel like she can. Iskra liked her roles anyway with how fiercely she has clung to them––with how she cast Verity a classic princess and herself a noble knight. Those had been comfortable Times and yet, they were built on flimsy dreams and solid lies. She cannot make much sense of that Time because where she believes her feelings had been truer than true... the decision to murder Iskra went against all of that. Trying to sort through her feelings is like trying to separate the water in the ocean by its molecules. They are all blended up and mixed together and she doesn't know which scream louder or how her hurt can exist with her fondness; how her horror can exist with her admiration; her curiosity with her apathy; and so, so many other juxtaposed feelings. It nearly makes her sick to think about it all. She nearly feels suffocated trying to make sense of it all––especially in front of the pirate.)

"That I cannot promise, but you know that," Verity says, pulling herself away from her inner battles to perhaps see if they can still create lightning with their words. Another distraction. (Though maybe she should be careful with that want, because the last Time they created lightning there was an entire hurricane that accompanied it.) The thought that Iskra will be harmed once her team turns her over is not one that had yet crossed her mind. She has been too scared to think of what Consequences are to come once they figure out who wants the fearsome captain most. Were she wanting to blind herself with bliss, she might have spun stories in her head that would tell her Iskra would be fine. She would be okay. She would just be locked away for the rest of her days. But those tales are so utterly laughable that she knows Iskra is not wrong. And yet, what can Verity really do about it? The team has all agreed to to sell her off. They hadn't gone through all the trouble of capturing her to keep her as a pet. (Can Verity stand to betray more people who presumably trust her? Has she not already betrayed them by hiding all her truths and never once telling them how exactly she came to know Inure or her illegitimate captain? Which path does she want to walk?)

"I have no interest really in holding you captive or even handing you over," she says, unsure of what she hopes to gain by filling the room with useless words. Verity, of all people, knows words are only wrappings for disgusting gifts. Time and Time again she had told the captain to show her devotion, to show her integrity and Time and Time again she did. Perhaps it is Time for Verity to do the same. 'No––what are you even trying to accomplish in this? She will be free of your mind in a few days Time.' "However I suppose that doesn't really make me any less complicit. As I suppose I am letting this happen," she muses, knowing that she is saying too much in processing her thoughts aloud.

Verity, at least, chooses not to inform Iskra that should she try anything such as suicide or self-mutilation again, they have monitors and cameras watching her and with one simple push of a button, this room will fill with sleeping gas. That, she knows, will not help anyone were she to reveal such knowledge. She doesn't want Iskra to despair anymore than she already might be; at least the exiled knows that much. Everything else remains a mystery shrouded in a fog that threatens to capture anyone who loses sight of their path and she is already dangerously close to that. Still, Iskra's words settle somewhere in her chest and she knows that she cannot let the others hand the pirate over. She knows she would live everyday out in Regret were that to happen. And yet, she already lives her Life in the shadow of Regret so what is a little more to her darkness?

"Nevermind my complacency," she continues, "or my lack of want for your demise. I cannot even pretend to suggest our circumstances say anything else about my intentions, even if they are not my own. You genuinely believe that I am trying to win something out of this? What, perhaps, do you think I will win?" her head tilts to the side, curious. Her tone also suggests she is hurt that this is what Iskra thinks of her, but she also supposes she cannot fault the captain for these assumptions. The circumstances are evidence enough and Verity has done nothing to suggest otherwise. Words are just meaningless without their follow through, as she has learned. As she has taught others––Iskra most of all. "No, nevermind that. What do you think I hope to win? Genuinely, I am curious what you think," 'of me. Do you still hate me?'

 

[Syntra]

No interest in holding her captive, huh? No desire to hand her over? 'I suppose,' behind which the princess hid as if it was a shield? Despite the mist rolling around in her head, thick like milk, Iskra felt her veins burst into flames! Gathering all of her strength, the pirate sat up. "Don't insult me like that, Verity," she hissed, her eyes hard like steel. "Have you not captured me? And I mean you, not your new friends. Unless, of course, you mean to imply that it was somehow their expertise, and not your knowledge, which allowed them to exploit Inure's weak spots. Is that what you're trying to say?" Because, yes, in such a case, Verity indeed could wrap herself in innocence. For all intents and purposes, she would have been a mere travel companion to the smugglers then-- their trajectories would have intersected by accident, and the princess would have been justified in singing this kind of funeral song. ('I'm sorry,' the lyrics wailed, when she listened to the words behind the words. 'I didn't really want this. Which, lies, lies, lies! Did the princess have no shame at all? When you went out of your way to buy a fishing rod, adorn it with bait, submerge it into the water and wait for a few silent hours till a fish finally overlooked the hook, you didn't get to say sorry to the fish afterward. Not how it worked!) "Because, unfortunately, I don't believe that. No, princess-- I can see your handwriting all over this. You captured me, so I'm your responsibility. Hiding behind 'I suppose' won't make it any less less true, that I can promise. It is what it is." The sparks that were born from her words, though? Those seemed to exhaust her fuel, and, completely drained, the pirate once again collapsed on her bed.

"Don't misunderstand, though," she said, much more quiet. "I don't blame you, nor do I wish you to grovel before me. I know you hold no love for me, and that is reasonable. Your victory was splendid, too. For that, at least, you deserve my congratulations. I just... well..." the pirate looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of her former friend's (?) gaze, "I thought that, after everything that has happened between us, we could at least be honest with one another. I'm tired of playing these games." ...ah, what a silly, silly request! To a princess, you see, a lie was her sword, and half-truths her armor. In the presence of her enemy, why should she put those away? That was just common sense. (And, no, it didn't matter that she was broken, broken, broken, thousand times over. Shards could still cut your throat, and Verity would be wise to avoid them. The Holy Vessel had learned that lesson the hard way, so there was no need for her to repeat that mistake!)

(Still, still she missed them-- the times when Verity's words had been soothing rain on her lips, not knives stuck under her skin. Those sweet, sweet times when they'd spoken freely, and cared not for consequences! ...yet, had it not been exactly that lack of care that had led to this? To all the sweetness festering, and turning to pus in her wounds? Too much of everything could kill you, yes, yes, even too much pleasantness, and Iskra... Iskra hadn't been designed with that in mind, anyway. ...perhaps that was why, under her cursed touch, everything turned into rot. To make it feel a little more familiar, you know? A little more like the pirate herself, whose humanity had crumbled into dust before she'd even been born. A fragile, empty shell, truly.)

Despite that, however? The princess appeared to be interested in what she had to say, for reasons wholly incomprehensible to Iskra. (Maybe, the pirate thought, she wishes me to be her echo-- to repeat her words after her, only slightly changed, so that she could revel in her own glory. ...that didn't sound right, though. There were many accusations she could fling at Verity, ranging from hypocrisy to thoughtlessness, but aversion to disagreement wasn't one of them! Very well, then. Very well. The gift of honesty was something she could give to the princess, and it would cost her nothing at all.)

"I... don't presume to know your motivations," Iskra began. "If I had to guess, though? Money. Money is the oil that makes every machine run smoothly, and whatever your goal is, I assume that more cash wouldn't hurt." That reason was solid, though also shallow-- opportunistic, in a way, and she liked to think that someone like Verity would act with greater deliberation. (That, you see, would make it meaningful. A story of two nemeses, grand enough to be elevated among the stars! A nascent legend, in other words, just waiting to be told over and over and over. Something more than just a mere coincidence, as random as it was stupid. Thinking like that, Iskra supposed, only proved how arrogant she truly was, but hey, give her a break! If nothing else, her story deserved an interesting conclusion.) "Besides that... revenge, I assume. I mean, it must feel good, doesn't it? To restrain the beast that spat upon you so. To be able to look at her and think: 'yes, I will be the root of her demise.' Again, I don't blame you. I know what is in my heart, and had it been that simple, I... I would have killed myself ages ago, I think," the pirate admitted, casually, as if she was giving Verity a lesson on how engines worked. "I deluded myself into thinking I could change something instead, however, and so I didn't even try. I suppose I have you to thank for this opportunity, then? For giving me the incentive to explore all those... hmmm, possibilities. Yes," she nodded, apparently satisfied with herself, "I think I shall treat this as a new beginning. That's the most dignified path that is still open to me, anyway."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

"Oh," the exiled says, sounding genuinely surprised by Iskra's assessment of her involvement in how the pirate came to join her company. The surprise almost makes it seem as though Verity thinks herself a passenger to her own Life. Simply existing along with it and not necessarily responsible for all her actions and the reactions that follow. Though that is exactly what Verity has been doing since parting from the pirate, since realizing she has burned all her bridges. Perhaps she assumed if she just went through motions, allowed Life to happen to her, she could absolve herself of whatever she does because can hardly consider herself an active participant.

Even if it may be true that the exiled does not want anything to do with the pirate specifically, it is true that had she not been aboard this ship, the others would not have survived Inure's attack. Their best bet would have been avoiding the altercation together, but with Verity's knowledge of the ship and how to irritate it out of submission... that gave them the upperhand to do what she imagines, no one else has done before: capture captain Iskra, plague of the galaxy. (Not that Verity thinks she's a plague, not exactly, but the Guardian reports sure make her out to be something more than a mere nuisance.) "It is not," she confirms, "I did... I did convince them to attack Inure using what I know about the ship and you as well. Had it just been them, you would have reaped the rewards of our last haul––which I imagine is why you chose to attack us in the first place." She doesn't try to hide herself behind a well, you started it and so I finished it argument, because that just seems entirely pointless. There is nothing to gain from the particulars, because it all led to this outcome just the same. She only mentions it to see if Iskra might explain exactly what she has been up to, though she doesn't count on the pirate giving her an explanation.

Though when Iskra settles again and offers her own clarification, the words come as a shock. The notion that she has no love for the pirate strikes her as an odd thing to say and she cannot place why it disturbs her. She cannot definitively say that she has love for the pirate, but she can say that at one point, she did. Or she might have. At least some form of love had existed for the pirate once; maybe not romantic as she had been hoping their trajectory would lead, but as a companion or a confidant, she did hold that. Maybe that is why she softens now, at least by dropping her composure and letting her exhaustion show as she leans forward and props her head up with her hand. "If honesty is what you seek, there has to be trust enough to believe what I am saying. What I said had been true to me, I did not wish to mislead you... I just. I just had not thought of my involvement in your circumstances, because it was not my intention," she shrugs, "but I see your point. You are my responsibility, undoubtedly."

... Which means Iskra's safety is in her hands. What happens to Iskra in the coming days will be another stain on her hands. (But does it have to be? Does Verity not have agency to still help the captain? Though, if she accepts her agency, she must decide how much she cares. About the captain. About the stain. About everything, really. What does she want from all of this?)

The captain's answer to that question, of course, leaves something to be desired. It's not that she doesn't see where Iskra is coming from, but the answer doesn't satisfy her. Not that she herself even knows what she hopes to gain from any of this. If anything, it almost seems as though she had been hoping the pirate would give her an answer. But she doesn't want the money that will come from this; she has no goals that require it, even. She also doesn't want revenge––the pirate's slights against her, while they infuriate her still, are not worth her energy. Though she cannot tell Iskra that. How can that not be heard as lies when she has offered nothing of the contrary? The pirate asked for her honesty and, well, she doesn't mind giving it but has to be believable. For some strange reason, Verity wants to prove her wrong, about what she said all those months ago when they were those different people... How she said her ancestors always knew their descendant would be a traitorous snake, growing in size with each of her lies.

Though it seems the captain gives her more to focus on than what she thinks Verity might hope for in turning the pirate over. In fact, the claim that she wants to die and would have killed herself if that were a simple option strikes the exiled. She looks at Iskra with a strange sadness in her eyes that seems to be pulling her entire face down. Even if this comes from Iskra's belief that she is wicked, and even if she herself remembers all of those nasty labels she had applied to the pirate all those months ago, she doesn't still hold them to her. Her entire assessment back then had been born out of anger and she has regretted ending things as they had. Since their separation she remembers, distinctly and with longing, all those other sides of the pirate––like the pirate who kept a garden, who keeps her promises, who brings prisoners flowers––her corruption is just one side and all the others she has seen so far do not appear evil or vile; how can Verity even judge that when she would like to believe her own immoral acts are not all that she is, but one piece of her. "I thought you were wretched once, captain. Truly, I did. I saw with my own eyes a glimpse of your Life as a soldier and it shocked me. Horrified me, to be accurate. And I am still haunted by your memories; they visit me in my dreams from Time to Time and reliving them is a torture." They always leave her thrashing and waking in a cold sweat, unable to place herself and remember she is not a little girl in a cage, she is not a dog for slaughter, she is not the Holy Vessel, she is not Iskra... Her mind has torn itself up replaying those disturbing memories that now live within her as well. "So I cannot imagine how they weigh on your own soul. That said, killing yourself would be too easy an option to absolve your guilt and you have never struck me as someone who chooses what is easy, but what is right. Ultimately, at least," she sighs.

Silence passes over them then as Verity deliberates further on what Iskra has said, not just what she had said moments ago but even all those months ago. While the memories of their last moments still set her blood aflame, she knows it is not enough to wish Death or harm to Iskra. If anything, the pirate's words seem to have helped her reach that decision. "You are wrong about my motivations, Iskra. I don't want money––I have no goals to fund these days and greed has never been my motivation. I don't want revenge either; even if I did, your slights against me are nothing in comparison to what you will likely experience. Attacking your ship had been for Inure and perhaps to see the look on your face when you realized who bested you––I admit, your reaction was far more unexpected than I had imagined," she sighs, closing her eyes as she rubs her temples. "I will speak with the girls and see if I can sway them."

 

[Syntra]

'I thought you were wretched once,' the princess said, and... well. That was the past tense, wasn't it? Iskra had never been one for dissecting sentence structures, but this little fact wasn't some secret hiding in the shadows of subtext, waiting to be discovered by those sharp-eyed enough-- no, this was text, plain and simple. The naked truth, in all its glory. (What did it mean, though? If Verity no longer considered her to be a twisted thing, then... then she must have thought something else of her, clearly. The mind abhorred vacuum, you see, so a different opinion had likely sprouted in its place already. What kind of opinion, however? Had the princess adjusted her position only because she had realized Iskra was even worse than she could have imagined, or had she... had she seen a semblance of value in the ashes? No, the pirate reprimanded herself, you shouldn't cling to foolish hopes. Don't you know what happens to those who grasp at straws? Who think that their entire weight can be supported by a single blade of grass? Besides, it wasn't as if Verity's forgiveness actually meant anything. The crimes she had committed against her were meager, in the grand scheme of things-- mere paper cuts, in truth, and she could only ever absolve her of those. Now, how could that matter when she'd also bathed herself in innocent blood? When she'd torn a country asunder, and ripped families apart? ('Ah, my sweet Iskra,' the Holy Vessel's voice resonated in her ears still, 'you're different. Unlike those simpletons, you compose a melody with your sword! Come, play for me. Don't I deserve it, via the virtue of suffering for you all?' Back then, she'd been too weak to say no, and oh, had that weakness cost her everything-- both the person she had been, and the one she could have evolved into. Her past and her future, really.)

Still, Verity didn't seem to understand, and how could she? A princess treasured by her people could scarcely comprehend her plight, in the same way a diamond wouldn't know what it was like to be a piece of coal. (Except that, you know, coal was actually useful. Selflessly, it provided light and warmth, and cared not that it had gone up in flames-- the very opposite of Iskra, who may have burned just as brightly, but who had drowned her world in ashes.) "You don't get it," she whispered, no longer interested in keeping up a facade. What was there left to hide, after all? The performance had ended, the curtain had fallen, and Iskra herself was all that remained, wrapped in her own depravity. ('Look,' she wanted to say. 'Look and see, and never forget who you are dealing with. Don't you dare to blame me again, you foolish little girl!')

"My guilt? My absolution? It's not about those things at all, Verity. It's about..." About what, really? How should she even begin to explain when their realities existed in stark opposition to one another? (The princess, you see, lived in a realm of light-- the stars themselves had given her their blessings, and so she walked boldly, with every step of her path illuminated. The soil itself worshiped her feet. Iskra, on the other hand? For Iskra, there was but a narrow bridge-- a bridge suspended that was suspended in total darkness, too, and it happened to be covered in spikes, and oh, a single misstep would send her tumbling down, down, down! Down, towards her inevitable demise.) "...I suppose it would be about protecting others," she finally said, studying her hands instead of Verity's face. "A shark cannot change its nature, after all. I doubt the animal itself is wicked, but always, always will it crave meat-- that desire is written in its DNA, and so it cannot be erased. That's why, if it lives near a human settlement, it needs to die. And... well. You've seen how I was raised, haven't you? Bits of it, anyway. I can assure you that the parts you haven't seen weren't any kinder, so you can probably imagine the rest. They made me with war in mind, Verity-- with war, and bloodshed, and violence. That's why I'm just like that shark, and that's why I deserve the same fate. Murdering me would be an act of mercy."

When the princess revealed her motivations, though? And when she, for some reason, promised her salvation? Once again, Iskra had to laugh. (Could she truly be this naive, or was Verity playing some twisted game with her? The game of hope, perhaps? You know, the one where you allowed your prisoner to build castles in the sky, only to tear them down as she watched! ...the joke was on her, though. Iskra had lost her blueprints ages ago, you see, and she had never bothered to look for them. Why should she? A worthless cockroach's dreams mattered about as much as the rest of the cockroach did, really.) "Speak to them, Verity, if it pleases you. You can paint yourself a savior, but we both know the ending to this story. Money speaks louder than honor, does it not? I swear, if you convince them, I shall eat my own shoes."

The next few days passed slowly, in this lazy haze. Once, Iskra might have dedicated her energy to crafting a daring escape plan, but frankly? Perhaps this was for the best. Karma had finally caught up to her, slow as it was, and trying to evade it just didn't strike her as a good idea. (It was kind of like barbed wire, you know? In that the more you struggled, the harder you attempted to wrestle yourself out of its grasp, the deeper its thorns went! No, it was better to surrender, and preserve your dignity.)

Bored out of her mind, Iskra decided to drown herself in fantasies-- mostly those of her death, for it felt more topical than usual. (What would be the best way to go? Something acid-related, probably, as the Shade wouldn't be able to resurrect her if it also ceased to exist. Hmm, hmm. Would decapitation work, or would the entity simply revive her severed head? Living like that had to be... interesting, the pirate supposed, but she didn't necessarily insist on seizing every single opportunity to amuse herself. After all those years, she just wished to rest!) The stream of her ideas, seemingly endless, had dried up rather quickly, though, and so the pirate would be lying if she said she wasn't happy to see Verity once again.

"Ah, greetings, princess," she waved at the woman when she entered her cell. "So, how did it go? Did they laugh in your face, or did they have the decency to do that when the door shut behind you? Or did you manage to talk them into keeping me, perhaps? I do regrow certain organs, so I imagine the long-term profit might eventually outweigh the short-term one if they decided to become some hospital's main suppliers." ...what? It was a viable plan! And most likely way more viable than whatever Verity had suggested, too.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

In the following days, Iskra's words sit heavy on Verity's chest and nearly crush her when she tries to Sleep at night. Not just the words themselves but the thousands of implications born from Iskra's lips. Frequently, she thinks about the pirate's wish to die in order to save people from her abhorrent nature and the implication that she cannot change her ways. (Which of course only makes Verity wonder what Iskra truly thinks of choice––always seeming to return to that early topic as if it were an anchor point for her. Clearly, the conversation has stuck with the exiled and even now she thinks about choice and the ones she has at her disposal.) It's hard to accept that Iskra has not changed over the course of Time and after putting so much distance between her past and present. There are at least two Iskras she has seen and only one she has really ever met. (Yes, at one point she found a pattern in Iskra's actions––that disgusting need to assert her dominance over those who have no power to oppose her, but is that really what the pirate is? When Verity thinks about those moments she shared with that despicable version of the pirate, she recalls playing her hand in that altercation as well. Had she not goaded Iskra? In truth, had they not both poked needles into each other until the only option had been to erupt? She doesn't excuse either of them. She sees where she has fault in how they ended as much as she sees all the faults of Iskra.)

And even if there are all these complicated sides to the pirate, as much as there are complicated sides to herself or any other person she has ever met, does it truly justify allowing her to slip into some sadist's hands? She knows not what Iskra has done in her years as a pirate that have warranted her such a reputation, and even if she were to read through the Guardian reports, articles, interviews––what would she expect to find other than vilification? Would reading all of that make her feel any less guilty? Perhaps, if she were objective she could see how this would be a favor to many who have likely suffered at her hands; she cannot pretend that a pirate's work is any less dastardly than, say, a smuggler's. Plus, she has evidence of Iskra's goodness––even if each instant in her repertoire had been to Verity's own benefit, does that not count for something? All those Times she saved her. Her deep care for her crew––so much so, Verity had even used that exploit to get the pirate to surrender. Her deep moral convictions––that all must mean something, right?

All these thoughts swarm the exiled's head and ultimately, she knows what she will do. She has known it since she left the pirate's cell. Just coming to that conclusion took her some Time as she wanted to be sure of this decision. Rash actions have never served her well in the long run, so perhaps it is Time for her to try something new.

"Ladies, I think we ought to celebrate our accomplishment in successfully capturing that bastard pirate––I imagine the Guardians will kiss our feet and let us pass through any sector without question," the exiled says to her team––all of them gathered in the ship's meager common area and sitting around the table. She smiles at them all, wider than she ever has, and produces a sealed bottle from behind her back and sets it down on the table. "I bought this bottle for the occasion––would you all care to join me for a drink?"

.............
​

'That could have gone better,' the exiled thinks as she shoves the last of her collapsed team into the ship's lone escape pod, along with all of their belongings. And perhaps out of guilt, Verity also leaves them with the money she had been collecting since starting this Life as a smuggler. It's not as if she had many things to spend her riches on anyway and she doesn't want this to end entirely in bad blood, but Iskra had been right. There was no way these women would have found it acceptable to keep the pirate––even if Verity had tried to spin a tale about a supposed tryst and how she only ever wanted closure, she could not imagine any of them would have cared. In fact, she imagines they would have marooned her on some asteroid for suggesting such sacrilege and outing herself as someone too soft for this line of work. Verity also knew she could not fight them all on her own––one on one, she could likely take them all out with her training, but it would have been wishful to try and take them all out individually without being heard. So the best option, one that did not involve pushing spikes into their skin, had been to drug them. Vega, though, ever suspicious, had not taken her drink as she noticed that Verity hadn't. That scuffle ended in a bloody nose, bruised knuckles, and Vega being the last to get shoved into that pod once the exiled had finally managed to knock her out.

Anyway, with that all out of the way, she arrives at the captain's cell and opens the door as well as releases the electric barrier. "Salutations to you as well, Iskra," she says, handing the captain a sword––perhaps it's far too early to trust the pirate with such an item, but in Verity's eyes if they are to be boarded and attacked, leaving Iskra defenseless is deplorable. Besides, between the two of them she knows the other woman has more skill than herself and would make for a much stronger offense. And, strangely enough, she just doesn't think that Iskra will kill her even if she has every reason to. (If Verity is wrong, then so be it. Her Life may as well be the pirate's for all the Times she has saved her and protected her from harm. Not to mention that Verity has already taken Iskra's once before, so it would only be just to die by her hand.) "I need a co-pilot and I take it you're competent enough to assist me?"

"And you'll be happy to know there will be no need to keep you as a living organ donor." With that, she motions for Iskra to follow her out of the cell. As they pass through the common area, it is clear there had been an quarrel with the overturned chairs, broken glass, and cabinet doors hanging off their hinges. "Words were just insufficient for the argument I needed to make and so I had to eliminate the threat entirely. They'll be dropped off near some trade town on a nearby moon colony," she explains, rather offhandedly as if it were the most natural conclusion to draw. "Anyway, I presume you know how to get into contact with your crew again so that we may reunite you with them?"

 

[Syntra]

...a sword. A sword, out of all things! Iskra had expected a wide variety of props, ranging from shackles to a gag to perhaps a vial of poison, but certainly not this. "Ah. Are you... are you sure about that, Verity? I mean, what will your crew think?" The probability of them attacking her on sight seemed rather high, and while that wasn't a problem on its own, she could easily see that attitude carrying over to Verity as well-- unless, of course, this was happening with their blessing. Hmmm. (Had they decided to turn her into a gladiator? Giving her her weapon now would be unorthodox to be sure, but perhaps the princess had convinced them that she had no will of her own, and was waiting for a new master to claim her. 'Can't you see?' the Verity in her head asked. 'She's a monster. A thing. Throw her a piece of meat, and she'll switch her allegiance so fast your head will spin. Don't you want a Hatarasheen of your own?' Everyone in this galaxy did, oh, Iskra knew, knew, knew, and this... this was more of the same, inevitably. A spiral was a spiral because it didn't end, wasn't it? And, for her, there would be no happy ending. Oh no, not how these things worked! If you wanted to guess a story's conclusion, you only had to look at the beginning-- the universe liked to follow its precious patterns, you see, and those that belonged to Iskra were drawn in blood.)

...except that maybe not. With wide eyes, the pirate took the scenery in-- the shattered glass, the broken furniture, the distinct lack of people other than her and Verity. This, uh, painted an interesting picture. (You know those surrealist pieces that consisted of shapes so mysterious you couldn't even begin to identify them? Shapes that only grew more complicated the longer you looked at them, and with colors so sharp they felt like needles in your eyes? Yes, it was that kind of picture. Chaos personified! And yet, for some reason, Iskra didn't dare to look away. Maybe she didn't want to, either.) "Of course that I can assist. I just... I just don't understand. Verity, why would you do this? Are you not afraid that I will stab you in the back?" Because, in the end, that was exactly what monsters did. Lurking in the shadows, they waited for their opportunity, and then, when you expected it the least, they struck! (Blood sang to them, you see? It did so in a voice sweeter than a lover's whisper, sweeter than honey smeared across one's lips, and only when it glistened on their claws could they taste a semblance of happiness. ...in theory, anyway.)

Shockingly enough, however, the princess appeared to trust her. Her, Iskra! The one who had spat on her in every conceivable way, and stolen a precious relic of her people, too. (The one who had stolen her kiss as well, seemingly centuries ago. Ah, by the Shade! What was happening, even? The world as she understood it was dissolving, with its natural laws laughing in her face, and Iskra... never before had Iskra felt so uncertain, so drifting. Before, the pirate had been able to cling to logic, at least, but with that concept losing all meaning, what would guide her now? Chance? No, no, surely not. Chance was an unfaithful mistress-- one that showed you her back the moment you began to rely on her, in truth. ...I suppose it will have to be my guiding star, then.)

Verity, in other words. Verity who had, despite her comparative lack of training, managed to best an entire crew! Despite herself, Iskra had to admit that it was... um, impressive. (Not unexpected, though. Stars weren't there only to bestow light upon others, you know? Gracious could their gifts be, yes, but stars were fire, and oh, its wrath was terrible as well. Terrible and majestic, and somehow, it had been called forth for her benefit, which... Practically against her will, Iskra shuddered.)

"But, um, yes. I assume they won't be too happy, but we can't always get what we want in life. To me, such a fate seems mostly fair." Fair for those who wished to sell her to her enemies, anyway. In fact, they should be happy that vengeance wasn't a god Iskra worshiped-- others, such as Ylna, would have called for their blood. "Also, I do know how to do that. Let me look at the control panel." This model was different from Inure, to put it lightly, but Iskra's hands had touched many ships, and a lot of the design choices were analogous, more or less. Without greater issues, she opened the communication channel, and... nothing. Nothing but the sound of crackling static, well-known to all who had attempted to communicate with a line that was dead. "That is... hmm, peculiar," Iskra admitted. "Let me call Myrne directly."

Please, Shade, let it connect, the pirate prayed quietly, and perhaps it did work, for someone picked up. "Myrne? Can you hear me?"

The response, of course, was immediate. "Iskra!" the woman gasped.

"It's captain."

"Yes, yes, captain, of course. The main thing is, are you alright? Can you speak? Where are you?"

"I'm entirely fine, no need to worry. There have been some, uh, unforeseeable circumstances." Such as the princess inexplicably deciding to save her, but they could discuss that later. "I am in control of The Serpent's Curse now. Would you pick me up? If you can, that is. I tried to call Inure, but you wouldn't answer-- are you facing some technical difficulties?"

"Well," Myrne gulped, "about that... we sold the ship, captain."

At that point, Iskra's eyebrow rose somewhere to the stratosphere. "What?"

"It was too recognizable, and also too slow. We didn't know how to repair the damage it took, either, so we got rid of it and bought a faster vessel," Myrne explained, somehow sounding like a schoolgirl who had been caught copying her homework from her smarter friend. "We just wanted to save you, captain! Aboard Inure, we never would have caught up with your captors. ...you aren't mad, are you?"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

"For as many people as I have turned my back on," she starts, reaching for the medical kit tucked in the overhead cabinet, "I assume a knife will land there at some point. I'd rather not be surprised when it happens so, do what you will." In this regard, Verity's decision to arm the pirate may be viewed as her attempting to control her circumstances, in some twisted fashion. For you see, if she gives the captain a weapon and is stabbed in the back moments later, well she knew that to be a possible outcome and so she has prepared herself for it. She'd rather not wait and wonder how the pirate will come to kill her, so she's taken the mystery out of the air by at least giving her means. And if she herself is the one to give the pirate a weapon then it is wholly her fault for being so careless. Even if she does not truly believe that is what Iskra will do, it would be unwise to wrap herself in a false sense of security and call it armor. Her logic may not be sound and perhaps is foolhardy, given all the ways she can still protect her own skin while still saving Iskra, and yet the exiled does not seem to be at all concerned with preserving herself. (It is possible, too, that she sees it as necessary to show the captain her trust, her integrity in full, for it is the only thing she has to offer the pirate at this juncture.) As if it to punctuate her comment as well as her logic, she turns her back to the pirate as she applies ice gel to her knuckles and shoulders. (Doubtlessly, bruises are blooming across her back and sides, but if the Pain bothers Verity she hardly lets it show save for the occasional gasp and wince.)

As foolish as it may be, she does mostly trust Iskra. Even if she shouldn't, because after everything that has happened between them there is no reason for the pirate to keep the peace. Their business partnership had terminated the moment she turned her back on the pirate and left her behind; though, if Verity thinks about it more seriously, she might say it had actually ended the moment she murdered Iskra. Everything that had happened in the interim had just been lip service to old patterns that eventually blew up in their faces. It had been impossible to think their quest could have ever been completed with the bad blood between them; knowing, too, that they both sought the wayfinder for goals that could not afford a second of Time wasted. (And yet look at all this and all the Time wasted because of her harebrained nature... Well, at least Verity has the assurance of knowing there is still one princess of Aurora working to save the nation.)

The exiled continues to tend to her wounds, paying little attention to the captain or her ministrations. "I am almost certain that if I were to run into them again, assuming your knife hasn't already been stuck in my back, theirs would all make a home in me," she shudders to think what Vega, in particular, would do were she to be caught alone. Certainly, it would be lightyears away from the demise she would meet at the hands of the queen, but cruelty is cruelty and does it really matter whether you're beaten to Death or flayed? She hardly thinks so. "They are good women, Iskra. It is the conditions of this galaxy that afflict them with greed and were they afforded different opportunities, I'm sure they would have made something different of their lives." If anything, her Time with those women had taught her a great deal about the ills of the galaxy and how the threads that tangle her homelands stretch to other planets and bind them all together. Incredibly depressing, to be sure, but Verity supposes she cannot be surprised that wickedness exist in every corner of existence. After all, it is a sweet and addicting poison. She should know that most intimately at this point.

Anyway, Verity half listens to the conversation while she checks her nose in a mirror, making sure she had set it right earlier, when she happens to catch onto the fact that Inure is no longer in the hands of Iskra's crew. (Where one part of her is overjoyed the parasites have lost the ship, the other part of her realizes that now the ship's fate is completely out of her control––at least in Iskra's hands she mostly had the assurance of knowing Inure would still be kept largely whole.) Lightning sets fire to her blood and the heat that surges through her nearly causes her skin to blister. The flames inside of her even take over her vision for all she can see ahead of her is brilliant red as she imagines all the ways that Inure is being desecrated.

Immediately, she whips around towards Iskra and practically shoves the pirate over so that she can speak with Myrne directly. (Not at all caring or remembering that this woman does terrify her.) "I'm sorry, Myrne, can you repeat that––please do not tell me that I heard you correctly in that you sold Inure?" poison leaves Verity's lips with each syllable, perhaps trying to kill Myrne with her impassioned words. And with the way her hand grips her the hilt of her blade, one might assume she is going to try and fight the older woman through the communication channel.

"If such is the case, then it is not Iskra's wrath you must fret over, but my own––send us your coordinates and we'll make like lightning," she all but orders, again, not caring that she has no authority over Iskra's women. To her, that matters not when the safety of the grand ancestor is in possible peril. 'Has she already been torn apart, panel by bloody panel? What is left of her remains?' It has been approximately a week since capturing the pirate and who knows how fast junkers work to tear apart ships whose value remains a mystery because of its rarity (an alien among aliens, really). The pirate may not want it back, especially considering that her crew seems to supposedly have a faster vessel in their grasp (which Verity highly doubts, because Inure and ships like her travel faster than light itself when in competent hands), but Verity... Verity is not going to let Inure slip through her fingers for what must be the third time this year. (Each Time, however, she has felt closer and closer to becoming the ship's rightful captain and what do they say about threes on her planet? Why, everything comes in three and that is why third Times truly is the charm.) She's willing to call on Halen, too, to ensure the safety of the ship––even if it comes at the cost of freedom and autonomy, as that is surely what the princess would demand in return.

"Iskra, whether you care about Inure's safety or not, that ship is more important to my people than you will ever be able to comprehend," and she means no offense by that, but it is true. It's like asking Verity to understand why Iskra's sword is so important to her––intellectually, she understands it has been bathed her blood and so they are bonded, but does Verity truly, at the most intimate level, understand that connection? Not in the slightest. So there is no way for Iskra to understand the sanctity of Inure to Verity––but the ship is like her last connection to the ancestors especially since her own have forsaken her. "I am going to take her back. Finish your call so that I may get a message over to Halen."

 

[Syntra]

They had sold her. Sold her! As if she had been a mere carcass, they'd carved Inure apart, piece by piece, and handed her over to... oh, Iskra didn't even want to imagine who, exactly, the highest bidder had been. (Some butcher, no doubt. Inure was a pearl among spaceships, after all-- a beauty shining from afar, and awakening envy in wicked women's hearts. What was happening to her in this very moment, hmm? Had they exposed her core already, and extracted the star hiding there? Had they silenced her song? For some reason, the mere idea of that filled her with dread! ...curious, indeed, considering that, months ago, Iskra hadn't spared the ship a single thought. Back then, it had been nothing but a vessel-- a way of getting from point A to point B, really. An item to use, much like shoes or bread or, say, paper towels. At some point, however? Her mindset had shifted, in the same way a weather vane followed the wind, and now she found the prospect sacrilegious. Infuriating, even!) "No, I'm not," she said still, regardless of the anger coiling in her belly. (Akin to a cobra, it hissed, and bared its fangs dripping with venom, but the pirate forced it back into non-existence. Losing her cool wouldn't help anyone, you see? Screaming at her subordinates might feel good in the moment, but it wouldn't undo their choices, nor would it bring Inure back.) "Your intentions were pure, I'm certain. Your actions were... uh, problematic, but I know that, together, we can--"

What exactly, hmm? It seemed they wouldn't find out, for Verity took over. "Verity?" Myrne asked, her tone colored with disbelief. "What are you doing there?" There were whispers in the background, as excited as they were confused-- women talking over one another, doubtlessly sharing their opinions on the mess that unfolded before their very eyes. (Had they connected the dots? As in, had they realized already what Verity's presence meant? Some of them, Iskra imagined, might think that the princess had rushed to their captain's rescue, but the less romantically inclined among them... oh, those had probably gotten closer to the truth.)

"Well, isn't it fucking obvious?" Ylna shouted in the background. "She's doing what she's best at, and by that, I mean stabbing Iskra in the fucking back."

"...I'm pretty sure she stabbed her in the stomach the first time around," someone pointed out, and the pirate could practically see Ylna staring a hole into the dissenter.

"Not the goddamn point and you know it. Stabbing someone in the back is a set fucking phrase, which means it has a greater impact. That's just common sense. Anyway, Verity, sweet cheeks, when did you gain the authority to command us around, huh? 'Cause I sure as fuck haven't been informed of this development. Let me guess-- was Iskra desperate enough to give you her mantle the second you showed her a semblance of affection? How many kisses did it take? Or did you show her something more fun, perhaps? You fucking--"

Horrified, Iskra seized the communicator before Ylna could finish her thought. "Ylna! How many times do I have to remind you that I insist on you paying me the respect I deserve? It's captain to you, not Iskra. And she... she didn't kiss me, or anything like that--"

"Oh," she could hear the smirk in Ylna's words, "it's even worse, then. You fucking took her back because you're hoping it might happen! Just, ugh. Do you like, not respect yourself at all? How am I supposed to do it when you don't lead by example, hmm?"

By that point, Iskra's cheeks were straight up burning-- that Ylna couldn't see her was the only solace afforded to her in that terrible moment, and for that, she thanked the Shade profusely. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would you even mention kissing? This has nothing to do with such things! I took her back because..." ...wait, had Ylna just baited her into admitting she had taken the princess back? And, more importantly, why had she done so? "...because I am the captain, and I have my reasons. I am not required to share them with you." Yes, very convincing, she was sure. By the Shade, had Iskra's face been any hotter, you could have fried eggs on it! (Kissing, huh. The softness of the princess's lips was a constant in her mind, it seemed-- always, always did the knowledge remain close, and it wasn't ashamed of demanding her attention. 'Don't you want to taste her again?' it asked. Properly, this time around.' ...without bothering to answer, Iskra shoved it aside. )"Anyway, you heard Verity. Inure is a precious artifact, and we are getting her back. Understood?"

The collective sigh may or may not have been just her imagination playing tricks on her, but the official response, at least? That one was satisfying enough. "Yes, captain. The coordinates are..."

***

To her crew's credit, Iskra had to admit that their efforts to locate her were more or less successful-- their new ship, The Dark Fate, wasn't far from them at all, and they probably would have stumbled across The Serpent's Curse sooner rather than later. "I can't believe they went to such lengths just to find me," the captain murmured as they watched them lower the bridge, and connect it to the runway belonging to the other ship. "It's just... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry this whim of theirs manifested itself in this way, however. We will get Inure back, one way or another."

Sadly, her women didn't really share her enthusiasm-- or rather, Ylna and her little group didn't. No, while others seemed confused more than anything else, she appeared to be downright hostile. "Hey, Verity," the woman waved at the princess. "Still as bitchy as ever, huh? Good to see that some things don't change, I guess-- it gives you this sense of, hmm, stability. So, just out of curiosity: how do you like the fact we sold the stupid ship to the demolition derby gals? And, and, and, another question! You do know that this is your fucking fault, too, don't you? 'Cause, had you not damaged the ship the way you had, we would have kept it."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

How presumptuous. How completely and utterly presumptuous of Iskra to not only make the assumption that she had assumed the command of The Serpent's Curse, but to also assume that she has Verity. Still, the thought doesn't displease the exiled, in fact the words seem to spark something inside of her. Hope? Curiosity? Confusion? More than likely, it's unholy cocktail of the three that will surely twist her mind into knots and send her heart racing in five different directions all at once. She doesn't entirely know what she thinks of Iskra's admission, because she had not exactly planned on returning to Inure after reuniting the crew with their beloved captain. That would have been a naïve thought for her to have and while she may harbor that trait within her, she is not so daft to think she would ever be welcomed back on that ship. Verity wholly had anticipated parting ways with the pirate once more, this Time on better terms. (Ignoring the fact that the terms were once more the fabrication of her own actions, but still. The outcome being somewhat of a Victory for the pirate must have counted for something, she imagines. Or hopes.)

Despite her fascination with this recent development, she says nothing of it. And for the sake of the pirate's face, she pretends to not notice how it looks as brilliant as a red giant but she does make sure to capture that look so that she may gaze upon it later in the privacy of her imagination. 'Shall I return to that ship? What purpose would it serve us?' she wonders idly as they make towards The Dark Fate. She is not convinced that they will return to their prior quest as it feels tainted and the taste is still bitter on her tongue; worry, too, fills her that if they are to return to that partnership it will only end as disastrously as before. If this is a second or third chance that she is trying to seize with the pirate, for companionship among this sea of endless stars, then she does not want to return to the old. As comforting as it might be, she just does not see it as realistic––besides, the thought of being a prisoner again does not strike her fancy. So what would it even mean for her return? Especially considering that she has just called upon Halen for a favor––one she knows will come with a steep price and the princess has every right to demand as much as she can from the exiled given how they last ended. That she hadn't brought that up during their short call only tells Verity it is most certainly sitting at the forefront of her mind. (Halen never talks about what is bothering her and so it is easy to figure out what is on her mind based on the topics she avoids.)

While the ship sails, she gathers the few belongings she had kept and clears the rest of the craft of any evidence of who it once belonged to before she settles beside the captain while her crew draws a bridge between the two vessels. The silence that wraps them doesn't bother Verity and so she sees no need to fill the air with nonsense; in fact, she is more or less amazed that silence can still be comfortable around Iskra. She would have thought she might have lost that luxury many, many months ago. Of course, when the pirate does melt away the quiet, the exiled peers over at her with her brow arched. "I would have thought that your eyes are in perfect working order, because only a woman without her sight would miss the adoration your crew has for their dear captain." Verity of all people knows this best with how they have treated her following the murder. It's more than that she killed their leader, normal pirates likely would have kissed the feet of their usurper captain, but not those on Inure. She reckons that even if Iskra had one Life to live they still would have followed the pirate's ghost until their end. Loyalty like that is rare and Verity has never seen it for herself; for her, it only exists in legend and folklore.

"I appreciate your respect for the relic of my people, Iskra, but––" unfortunately, whatever she is about to say is cut off by Ylna. 'Oh this ought to be just splendid,' she thinks in a less than amused way that seeps onto her features. Where a few months ago she would have simply endured Ylna's treatment, believing it wholly deserved, at this point Verity just does not have the energy to waste letting others feed her self-pity. She does that plenty on her own.

So rather unceremoniously, Verity drops the satchel she had been carrying and approaches the pirate––either assured that Iskra will not allow Ylna to murder her or perhaps not caring if that is the outcome of this inevitable altercation. "Ylna, a pleasure as always! Has your mouth missed the taste of the captain's ass or did I imagine the shit on your nose?" her head tilts to the side with all too confident smirk plastered across her lips. However, it quickly turns into a frown as Ylna continues to speak and––

"You what?" the exiled says, her tone carrying all the power of dark clouds waiting to unleash their wrath. Of course, it does not help that the pirate then chooses to hold a mirror in front of Verity's face and forces her to look at how her own hand played into Inure's plight. Already at her wits end knowing these ungrateful brats haven't a clue of how to cherish a living relic and unwilling to accept her responsibility, the exiled wastes no Time in drawing her blade. With the grace one would sooner expect from a gladiator than a former princess she says, "Draw your weapon, Ylna––you have wanted my head since I first attacked your precious captain, so show me how badly you want it. Come on!"

And Ylna? Doubtlessly, the woman has been waiting for the opportunity to strike Verity, so it takes no further prompting for the pirate to draw her weapon and attack. Quickly, Verity dodges her opponent and notes that her style is far different from Iskra's or Halen's or even the queen's––her strikes come in a haphazard manner giving her opponent, Verity, little room to decipher her openings. Still, the exiled does not wear an expression of worry on her features, instead she remains calm as she recalls what she has learned from all of her mentors––Iskra especially. With an arm behind her back, she parries each strike, waiting like a snake in the grass for her perfect moment to attack. All she needs is a single misstep or an all too confident lunge to change the Nature of their duel. It does not worry her that Ylna appears to have the upperhand, because only a fool would let themselves believe in what they see. Sparks fly off their blades, the room echoes with clashing steel and soon the cheers from the other pirates––though the exiled's focus is not on her surroundings so much as it is on her opponent.

At one point, Verity miscalculates her step and Ylna's steel slides across her bicep, cutting into her muscle. Yet in the next moment, Verity's own blade swipes across Ylna's forearm. Then, to the untrained eye, Verity changes the rhythm of the duel entirely. Though those with experience might have noticed that Verity had been adapting her step this entire Time, adjusting to Ylna and catching the patterns in those seemingly wild strikes––even without a true pattern, she realizes how to bait the other woman. And baits her into a trap that allows Verity to drive the woman back, with wild strikes of her own, her arm moving faster than one can think––going for the points Ylna has failed to defend adequately and before anyone knows it, the pirate's blade has been kicked from her grip. She then kicks the other woman backwards.

"I will not be spoken to in such a manner, Ylna," she says, holding the tip of her blade under the other woman's chin, with her boot placed firmly at the center her chest. "I won't pretend to be your captain, either, as I know that is not my place, but while you seek to be a parasite on the grand ancestor of my people, I will not tolerate your insolence. What I have done to your captain is unforgivable, yes, but your forgiveness matters not. So let handle Iskra and I handle our disputes; your intervention is not necessary. Now," and with that she applies more pressure to her blade, careful not to break skin, "do you yield, Ylna? Or is this duel not to the Pain, but to the Death?"

 

[Syntra]

"Verity!" Iskra shouted, clearly scandalized, when the other drew her blade. (Was the princess that thirsty for blood? Because, oh, she wouldn't get to quench that thirst there. Starting anew, aboard The Dark Fate, should have been an opportunity for them to set their differences aside-- you know, to look past what divided them, and focus on forging stronger bonds. Bonds that wouldn't be broken during the fist summer storm, if at all possible! ...except that, instead of pursuing that goal, the women chose to deepen the old wounds. Oh well. Foolishness lurked in human hearts, Iskra supposed, and it was a leader's job to make her women accept reason.) "Verity," the pirate repeated, intending to do just that, "I forbid this. Categorically. Ylna's words were careless, that much is true, but infighting won't solve anything. In these trying times, we have to... Oh, by the Shade, Ylna! What are you doing?" That question, of course, was wholly unnecessary-- mostly because it wasn't difficult to guess what exactly she meant to do, with her sword drawn and that look on her face. You know, the look that said 'I'm going to fuck you up and then send your sorry corpse to your weeping mother'? Yeah, that one.

"Well, well, well, little princess! Let's see if your bite is as bad as your bark, then. I hope you aren't attached to that pretty face of yours too much, because I'm going to fucking ruin it." As if that wasn't bad enough on its own, the others started cheering them on, and, just like that? Just like that, the captain could feel the power slipping away from her fingers, as if she had never held it at all. Oh, how slippery could it be! Worse than an eel, in truth. Why am I still here, even? Iskra thought, her eyes forlorn-- much like those of a gardener who had repeated thousand times that, no, you couldn't step on the grass, only for the ban to be ignored by laughing children every single time. Only to suffer? Is this some personal punishment devised by the Shade, perhaps to show much me how of this is beyond my control? (...captain, pfft. Once, Iskra had naively thought that the title came with a modicum of respect attached to it-- that, in exchange for allowing the burden of decision-making to fall on your shoulders, you received your subordinates' undying gratitude. Such a trade seemed fair to her, more or less. Balanced. In that imaginary world of hers, you see, a captain was the main pillar, and her women supported her! No tempest could shake the foundations that existed in their hearts, which was why they continued to sail proud. The reality, on the other hand? So far, being a captain had felt like trying to herd cats! Cats that could use swords, and design bombs, in some cases, and conspire against her in ten different languages. Just, ugh!)

Very well, the pirate thought bitterly, they can maul each other for all I care. The only words of solace I shall offer to the loser will be 'I warned you!' With clear disapproval, she folded her arms on her chest, and... um. Had the princess always been this good? Iskra did recall her possessing some talent for sword play, yes, but back when they had spared, it had been just that-- a potential untapped, in other words. A grain of sand that could, if given enough time, grow into a precious pearl, or perhaps a caterpillar that hadn't transformed into a colorful butterfly yet. Infinite possibilities, all waiting to be discovered! (Would the princess nourish her talent? Would she spread her wings, and allow the world to marvel at their beauty? And, if she did so, what kind of colors would those wings be adorned with? All questions that had kept her up at night, really, and discovering the answers so suddenly was... dizzying, almost. Like drinking an entire glass of wine at once. Seafoam, Iskra thought, more than just a little stunned. She's like seafoam, and water, and all liquid things. Seemingly formless, indeed, but actually just copying its container, and... oh.)

Iskra saw it sooner than Ylna did-- the point of no return, from which all losses sprang. One careless movement was all it took, apparently, for the woman to end up under Verity's boot! (Uninvited, the pirate's mind edited Ylna out and presented her with a vision of her being stuck in the same position. A disconcerting prospect, right? Except that, um, not, actually. The context seemed to be a little different, too, with them apparently enjoying a much greater privacy and wearing fewer layers of clothes, but yes, the core idea remained the same. ...what was it like, looking up at the princess from such an interesting angle? Being on the receiving end of her searing gaze probably could have been the topic of several poems, especially with her hair all dishevelled from battle, and... gulp. For totally mysterious reasons, Iskra's cheeks darkened.)

"Bloody hell!" Ylna spat out, both upset and astonished. (A little bit impressed as well, maybe? Not that she'd ever admit to that, of course.) "Ugh. Fine, fine, I yield. Don't expect me not to call you out on your bullshit, though. Like yeah, you not be totally fucking hopeless with a blade, but that doesn't mean you can turn me into a loyal lapdog. Not how it fucking works. If you think you can buy my eternal silence with one victory, then think again, princess! I advise you to kill me, if that is the case. That's the only way to seal my lips for good." Uh oh.

Before things could turn even more ugly, which they easily could, Iskra approach the duo. "That is quite enough, don't you think, Ylna? Verity's victory was splendid, so don't dishonor me by refusing to respect it! Never forget that your own behavior reflects on me as well. And as for you," the captain turned to Verity, and her gaze softened, "well done. I'm proud of you. Whatever you've been doing, you blossomed beautifully. Now..." she wiped away the blood from her bicep gently, "shall I clean your wounds? It is, ah, a tradition among my people to honor a warrior who beat one of our own in this way. I-in fact, there is a ritual with fragrant oils to help your mind relax as well, though I don't know whether... whether you'd enjoy that." Why oh why couldn't she look the princess in the eye?! It wasn't like she had ulterior motives, or anything like that-- no, Iskra only wished to celebrate her victory properly.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The sage Victory and her twin Glory must be smiling down from the Cosmos at the young descendant's triumph. She feels the swell of pride in her own chest as she looks down at her opponent, her earlier anger having been dissolved somewhere in the middle of duel. Not that she appreciates Ylna's words anymore than she had at the start of this debacle, but she at least no longer feels that venomous snake inside of her chest calling for the other woman's blood. In fact, it seems satisfied in the simple win of the duel itself. 'Ah, perhaps this is how diplomacy should be,' she muses, though only half-heartedly. That old princess still lives somewhere within her, likely trapped in some high tower waiting for her freedom again, and still wishes that all matters can be solved with words and promises. How foolish that princess is––much too dangerous to be let out now, given all she knows of the galaxy. Her cynicism about the state of existence has only been nurtured and now has a trunk as thick as a world itself and a height that cannot be seen from down below. Yes, perhaps Iskra had been onto something when she had said that not every battle can be won with words and that some require spilled blood.

This, of course, is only a small sliver of an example and Verity does recognize that; however, she also recognizes how good it feels and felt to send Ylna onto her back. Like a surge of power mixed in with her pride. In any case, she does believe the duel had been an appropriate course of action given the other woman's fiery nature. Words likely never would have reached her ears and even if she is not promising any kindness, Verity ventures to guess she will at least leave her alone for some Time. And if not? Well, she would not mind a rematch. "If I were looking for a lapdog, I wouldn't seek out a bitch," apparently, one too many hours spent with Vega has colored the exiled's vocabulary, but she does believe this particular statement has its purpose in using the swear. Though she is about to say more, her quip not even at its best part, Iskra steps in and Verity is once more reminded of her surroundings. With a sigh, she nods and sheaths her weapon, stepping off the other woman and even offering her a hand from the floor. Spending Time with smugglers may have eroded some of her manners, but she still remembers how to be a good sport and figures she does not need to make this situation any worse. Especially as she considers staying with Iskra once they inevitably recover Inure––as she will not allow for any other outcome.

While she does expect to hear something of Iskra's earlier disapproval, eyes even downcast as if expecting to be reprimanded, when the captain offers her praise her heart sings a funny melody and she looks up at the other in disbelief. Though that quickly melts away and seems to also heat up her cheeks––Iskra's compliments on her form have always meant something to her and being that she does admire the other woman's skill, it means the world to gain her approval. (Perhaps, though, she should not let herself get too caught up in this moment for there is still so much unspoken between them and the ghosts of their past selves still haunt her. As with their merry day with the dolphins, she must remember this is but a moment in Time and not a complete story.) "As I have told you before, my training has afforded me such skill and I am but the mere product of my teachers," she says, a glow in her eyes despite knowing she needs to settle her heart lest it get confused again. "My most recent adventures, as well, have offered more practical experience."

Her eyes trail down towards her wound, though she doesn't watch the flow of blood or even register the minor Pain that comes from Iskra's touch, instead her gaze lingers on the pirate's hand and how she touches her. It almost makes her cry with how gentle it is, perhaps having forgotten what it means to be touched in such a considerate manner. "If it is tradition," Verity starts, mischief coloring her tone against her better judgment––all these reactions within her feel so automatic she does not know how to turn them off so that she may hold onto some of her composure and not just throw herself at the first woman who is tender with her. (Is that not what the pirate had chastised her for all those months ago? Even if the pirate before her seems different, softened with Time and space, the words are still in the air around her ears.) She swallows, still holding the other's wavering gaze, "then I would not want to disrespect your ways as you have done so much to recognize mine. Please, show me this custom of yours––I am curious to know this ritual if you will have me."

 

[Syntra]

"And just as I have said before," Iskra insisted, "that's not all you are. Not even the most splendid of teachers can pour skills down your throat, Verity. Mentors can show you the proper way, yes, but none of them can make you walk it, nor can they carry you on their shoulders. You yourself have accomplished this thing, so why won't you let me praise you?" How curious, indeed! Especially since, you know, royals had no problem with being honored for that which they hadn't earned-- millions kissed their shoes, solely for the feat of being born under the luckiest of stars. Verity didn't seem to resent her title of a princess, so Iskra supposed such a mindset wasn't entirely foreign to her, either. (The cultural specifics attached to her country? Undoubtedly, those informed her understanding of the role, and the differences seemed to be quite stark, but... well. In the end, weren't they superficial? A dog, despite the staggering variety in breeds, was always a dog-- could not be anything else, really, for the truth of that had been written into its DNA. On the molecular level, the similarities among them were greater than their differences, too! And, really, wasn't it the same with princesses? To the pirate, you see, it mattered very little that you technically didn't have to be born of a queen's body, or share her blood. Oh no, not at all. What was important was that you were still elevated above others, and expected to wear the crown. The reasons that marked you for a potential future ruler even seemed similarly arbitrary, despite the fact that the flavor of such arbitrariness differed from the one Iskra was familiar with. Could it be, she wondered, that our souls are only able to soak up a finite amount of praise? In the same way that soil can only accept so much water before it dissolves in mud. ...if that was the case, then she pitied the poor princess. Oh, how terrible it must have been, to have praise shoved down your throat till you could no longer appreciate a heartfelt compliment!)

When Verity accepted her proposal, though? Iskra, uh, didn't know what to do. Immediately, her hands were covered in cold sweat-- the same hands that would soon be touching the princess, as she realized with no small amount of horror. (By the Shade, by the Shade, by the Shade! Who would have guessed that Verity would actually say yes? Iskra had offered it on a whim, half-expecting that she wouldn't be interested in pursuing a tradition that wasn't her own, but she was, she was, which... Oh no. That meant meant the captain actually had to follow through, didn't it? With these hands that only knew how to bring bloodshed, she would have to caress the princess, and help her release the tension from her shoulders, and, and, and!!! How did one do that without, uh, exploding? Asking for a friend, of course.) "Ah. I-- I will have you," Iskra finally said, her ears so red they rivalled fuchsias. "Gladly. It will be a great honor, in fact. I am, ah, not that experienced in this endeavor, but I shall try to give you as much pleasure as I can."

At that point, Iskra could practically feel the stares burning a hole into her skull, and it was obvious that it was only a matter of time before someone provided a commentary. You know, someone like Ylna, perhaps! "...wow. Can't you two get a fucking room?" the woman raised her eyebrow. "I thought you were cringey enough even before, but I'm pretty fucking sure some limits are being exceeded here. Like, this is worse than goddamn radiation!"

"Ylna," Iskra put her hand on her hip, "I have no idea what you're talking about. What is it that angers you so?"

Ylna inhaled, probably to launch into a very detailed speech, but Myrne silenced her with a single tap on her shoulder. "Not now," she recommended to her before turning to Iskra. "And you, captain, should follow the same advice. While you were busy dealing with... the desires of your heart, I suppose... I contacted the ones who bought Inure." Ah, good old Myrne! Always mindful of their goals, even when others faltered.

"Oh! And? I presume you asked them whether they'd be willing to sell the ship back to us?"

Hearing those words, however, Myrne winced. "Well, yes, but... you know what, captain? You can hear for yourself." The older woman then reached into the depths of her pocket, only to pull out a small, oval-shaped thing-- a communicator, as Iskra knew. With constant buzzing, the device took flight, and once it reached the captain's eye level? Why, it projected a hologram onto the starry sky! A hologram of a woman with short blue hair, and with her lips pierced so many times that Iskra had trouble figuring out what exactly she was looking at initially. (Those were, umm... some bold choices.)

"Yo! So you are the bitches who want the stupid ship back, huh? A piece of advice: shouldn't have sold it, then! And, no, you can't have it. It's a thing of beauty, you know? So, I shall enjoy smashing it to pieces! Ah, I wonder whether it'll sing as sweetly when the engine room is blown up, or when it loses its wings. I dunno what the ship's made of, but man, I'm sure its destruction will be a feast for the eyes."

"...did you answer the call solely to mock us?" Iskra asked, entirely unimpressed.

"No, actually," the pilot smirked. "I wanted to give you a chance, since I'm nice and generous and shit. "I have to wonder, though: are you strong enough to take it? 'Cause it isn't for the faint of heart. Anyway, you're captain Iskra, right? And the one standing next to you must be the exiled princess! Some of my friends would love to try and test their skills against you, sooo, you know," the woman shrugged, "I guess I'm willing to return Inure, if you beat us in a race. If you lose, though? I want the princess's hand in marriage."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The more Iskra insists on Verity accepting her praise, the deeper the exiled's cheeks color. One would sooner think a sage were lauding the former princess's accomplishments than a pirate captain with whom her relationship is sullied and a tangle in the jungle of her heart. Perhaps it would be easier for her to accept such praise if Iskra knew just how poorly she used to wield her blade and how many hours it took her to learn its humble song. As a child never recognizes how old they've become until their cheeks are pinched by some distant relative, Verity certainly has no gauge on her growth other than knowing she doesn't get knocked down as easily as before. (It also does not help that her mind holds onto all the moments where she is defeated more than it does her Victories.) Rather bashfully, she hides behind her curtain of mussed hair and allows her gaze to linger over to some non-discriminant items on the deck. 'Still, a pirate lights my heart aflame. What ever am I to do about this silly affliction?' because, surely, getting caught up in her girlish desires and childhood fantasies will lead her to more destruction as it has already. Like reciting a most holy verse, she reminds herself that this moment changes nothing in the end. Moments are but mere lapses in Time and she must not cling to them for salvation.

And yet, perhaps always doomed to follow that erratic beast within her...

"Pleasure me?" she says, with her brow raised wondering if Iskra is thinking of the same thousands of implications that run through Verity's mind at the thought of the pirate trying to pleasure her. Of course, she recognizes that this is only about the post-battle rituals of Iskra's people and yet those words invite fantasies that will surely help the exiled sleep at night. Guilty little fantasies they will be, and yet she may as well indulge for her wretchedness cannot be tainted by simple desire. (No, only cold blood on her hands will do that. Or sinking another knife into someone's back, as seems to be her greatest skill.)

Her fantasies, however, must be put on hold as she is once more reminded that this is not a private venue and she is still under the watchful gaze of so many hostile eyes. (Though some, she realizes, seem to be holding their hands over their hearts and so perhaps she does not have as many enemies as she had initially thought. It is not enough to make her feel comfortable, per se, but enough that she does not feel so hopeless about her situation with Iskra's crew. An element that will effect her decision to come join the pirates on their grand adventures once this situation with Inure is resolved.)

Now, when the communicator projects their current adversary into the air before them, Verity fixes her gaze on the bedazzled woman. Her eyes seem to fill with the rage of a hundred storms as the woman speaks of the destruction of her ancestor with absolute glee; the descendant feels her blood growing hot once more, so much so, she worries that if she opens her mouth flames will come out and burn everything in her immediate vicinity. She clenches her jaw to prevent such an outcome and decides to silently delegate the role of diplomat to Iskra as her words will only spark wars. (Ylna's earlier words echo still in her ears and remind her that this predicament is her fault––Inure would have been safe had she not acted in such an aggressive manner. 'Inure, my dear ancestor, salvation of my people, I will come for you. I will rescue you. This fault is my own and your fate is wholly in my inept hands.')

Verity nods to the pilot's assumption that she is a princess, even if she has trouble accepting that title as of late. Then the anger drops from her face with such suddenness and morphs into shock with such speed she almost forgets about her initial feelings in the first place. Just. The audacity of this woman! To threaten the grand ancestor and then demand her hand in marriage if she loses this silly little race to take the ship back? A marriage like that will only last a night if Verity and her poison have anything to say about that. Without thought, fire jumps from her tongue, "Why you little––"

"Verity!" someone, a voice strikingly familiar, calls from behind her and the exiled turns to see that her possible friend, Halen, has arrived. (In her stew of anger, she had not noticed that the Inure's pearlescent twin, Cynosure, is now looming over the deck, her shadowing swallowing the faint glow of all the stars around them.) "Verity, have some class, will you? These women are offering a clean chance at taking Inure back. It would be wise to accept the offer," the princess says, her tone suggesting she is at least going to do her part in ensuring her hand is not taken by an unworthy soul (perhaps that includes Iskra as well, though it's hard to tell. The ice princess does little to acknowledge any of the pirates more than she has to). The princess then confirms this, placing her hand on the exiled's shoulder and whispering into her ear, "Win or lose, Inure will be ours again and you will not marry some street rat."

"Aye! What's that blondie whispering, princess? We got a deal or what? My offer will expire in three... two..."

"Fine, fine––we accept your challenge. If we win the ship is ours and if we lose, you shall have my hand in marriage," she blurts out, before her mind can even have the chance to stop her. Somewhere, she knows this is a cleaner way to solve this dilemma. It beats fighting them and risking injury or even Death to Iskra's crew. Even with Halen and her forces here, she imagines that all parties (perhaps save for herself) would like to solve this without Violence. So be it.

The blue-haired pilot smirks. "Perfect, I look forward to having a princess in my bed sheets," she says, making some lewd gesture with her tongue before continuing down to business, "Meet us by the tracks with your fastest vessel––you're gonna need it."

The call ends and Verity turns to Halen, finally able to take in the arrival of her former companion. While Halen appears as impassive as ever, she imagines that everyone in the vicinity can feel her burning scorn underneath her aloof gaze. "As I was saying earlier, I won't let you fall into their hands and I do intend to take Inure back. However," she gives a quick and pointed look towards Iskra, "I will not be racing so that pirates can desecrate our ancestor and abuse her, but to bring her back to the homeworld. Now that I know she exists outside of the sage sister legends, I do believe she will help us inspire the people. Just as you said and just as you wanted, Verity." Halen gives the exiled a look that suggests she has made some grand concession in accepting Verity's suggestion from all those months ago when she initially pitched the idea to find the wayfinder as a component to their revolution. Though it only bothers Verity the princess had not taken her idea into serious consideration until recently, so she is not impressed despite the look on her face that suggests just the opposite.

Before Verity can respond, however, Halen finally acknowledges the captain. "Captain Iskra. I hope you make your farewell to Verity memorable, because I'm sure you recall that she agreed to return to her people if we are successful. And, to be honest, I do not see you people winning this race in this hunk of malformed steel you call a ship."

 

[Syntra]

This, Iskra decided, must have been some terrible nightmare. Just, how dared she? The woman hadn't even bothered to introduce herself, and yet, yet she demanded so much of Verity! As if the prospect of losing Inure wasn't wasn't horrifying on its own, she also threatened to... to... no, the pirate couldn't even put it into words. That would make it real, you see, which she wasn't at all comfortable with. (A princess, belonging to a creature this filthy? Pfft, what an insult. The stars didn't shine for the lowest of worms, so those who wore crowns didn't yield to honorless ruffians, either. Feeling entitled to that which your hands shouldn't even get to touch, let alone hold, was a great sin! ...Iskra knew that, perhaps better than anyone else, and, oh, this rat would learn, too. In ways far more intimate than she would have liked, the captain wagered.)

Frankly, Halen's arrival didn't even turn Iskra's head. She'd meant her parting words to the other princess, you see? Verity's companion simply wasn't interesting enough, and the pirate sorely doubted that her presence would make a difference. Why did Verity insist on it, even? Halen, who seemed to be so half-hearted in her efforts, couldn't possibly succeed where they failed. Oh no, no, no. The Shade didn't bless those who found refuge in cowardice, only to call it 'strategy'! Halen's entire revolution stood on foundations of sand, Iskra knew, and the more weight she put on it, the more likely she was to drown. (Deeper and deeper was Halen sinking, with the mud reaching up to her shoulders now. Did she even see that, though? Had the woman opened her eyes, or did she prefer to dwell in her own delusions instead? For some reason, the pirate was inclined to believe the latter happened to be true-- lying to yourself, you see, could be nice. Comfortable, in ways facing the reality just wasn't.) Still, even if Iskra didn't rejoice to see Halen again, the fact that she turned up in the manner she did was... interesting. Full of fascinating, fascinating implications! If you looked beyond her arrival, for example, and cared enough to spot the facts visible through the cracks in her facade? You'd see that Verity held little love for her as well. All those months, spent in the company of lowly smugglers, and the princess hadn't bothered to contact Halen, either! (Absurdly, Iskra found a semblance of solace in that-- Verity could never be hers, in the same way she just couldn't be Verity's, but at least she didn't belong to Halen. Why that was important, the pirate couldn't tell, though the beast in her belly roared in satisfaction nonetheless. ...maybe due to the karmic justice? Yes, that had to be it.)

"Wait," Iskra exclaimed, "I demand an adjustment to the deal. I trust you believe it is unfair? A princess's hand in marriage is worth more than any ship in this galaxy, after all." With the power of ten thousand suns burning in her glare, the pirate looked up to their challenger. "If you'd wish to sully Verity's honor, I demand your head in case you lose. A body part for a body part. What do you think, woman? Or are you perhaps not confident enough in your abilities?"

"Pfft!" the pilot smirked. "I accept, captain Iskra. Why not? It's not like you won't be eating the stardust generated by my ship the second the race starts. But... hmm. You care for the princess, don't you? I'm not a cruel chick, you know. Let me throw in a special present for you-- when I win, I shall grant you the access to my bedroom as well. The more the merrier, after all!"

...in truth? The woman was lucky that she only spoke to them in the form of a hologram, otherwise Iskra would have taught her a lesson about the value of manners. To think that she could suggest something like that, and so brazenly! Anger was setting her blood aflame, oh yes, enough for Iskra to see red, which--

--Halen. Out of all people, she hadn't expected her to calm that fury, but stranger things happened, you know? Even though this was but a side effect. (In front of the other princess, Iskra didn't wish to lose her cool. Someone like her deserved not to see her at her lowest! To Halen, the pirate would only ever show the most perfect of her masks-- a facade with no cracks, really. Gaze upon me all you like, she thought, but you won't perceive anything I don't wish you to perceive.) "Coming from you, princess Halen, that is practically a confirmation of our victory. There are many things your eyes don't see, you know? The tip of your own nose is your limit, it seems, so of course that you cannot imagine anything beyond that. But, despair not! We'll show you just how shallow your imagination is."

***

The coordinates their opponent sent them? From those, Iskra read that the route of the race would lead through numerous asteroid belts-- through those, and also through mining colonies. A single mistake, and we'll be scraping the remains of The Dark Fate off some meteor! ...which, she supposed, was likely the entire point. Why have an illegal race if you meant to follow all the safety guidelines, after all? Clearly, this was the equivalent of a pub brawl, in which smashing your enemy's head with a chair could be a valid strategy-- expecting legitimate rules here would be like expecting to eat a donut with a fork and a knife, really.

Sharply, the pirate inhaled. The Dark Fate was standing at the starting point, surrounded by numerous other ships-- ships of all sizes and shapes, indeed, with many of them so bizarre that Iskra wondered how they even managed to take off. Ah, if only there wasn't so much at stake! In that hypothetical scenario, she could have enjoyed this race, perhaps, which-- oof. By the Shade, what was that? The floor shook underneath their feet, violently, and Iskra had to grab onto the control panel to avoid falling out of her chair.

"Wo hoo!" a familiar voice cracked from the speakers, teeming with triumph. (The woman who planned to soil Verity's honor! Oh yes, yes, Iskra would recognize her anywhere, and--) "Let's see how far you get without one of your engines, suckers. Should have dodged that one, eh?"

"Three..." the robot hovering over them announced in an impassioned tone, "two... one... Go!"

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Honestly, Verity can do without Halen's overabundance of (undeserved) confidence––where she used to admire it earlier in their friendship, at this point it is tired. At this point, she realizes how much her confidence rides on her ability to control scenarios and thus the less control she has, the more of an ass she becomes. Not that Verity particularly feels like voicing that opinion; now is not the Time nor the place, especially since she wagers Inure will need all the help she can get, because something tells Verity this will not end with peace regardless of whether they win or lose; an extra set of swords surely will not hurt her cause. The one thing that really keeps Verity from snapping at her former companion, other than the help she is willing to provide, is that she entertains Verity's wish to remain on The Dark Fate if only to let her enjoy her last moments with Iskra. That, at least, is something Halen can understand or, if nothing else, tolerate. (And it is likely the latter as she doesn't seem particularly happy that a pirate's company seems to be more valuable to the exiled than her own. But, for whatever reason, she decides against fighting Verity on her wish. Perhaps knowing, or more than likely believing, if she is able to best them both she can show Verity that she always does know best.)

Anyway, as they near the starting line, Verity feels boundless energy building in her stomach and chest that spreads throughout the rest of her body; so much of it fills her it's as if her essence is trying to vibrate out of the confines of its flesh prison. Rocking on her heels does nothing to settle her agitation and pacing hardly calms the buzzing in her veins. Already the exiled knows it will be difficult for her to remain collected with so much on line––namely, the prospect that Inure will be laid to waste. She is not all that concerned about the possibility of becoming betrothed to a woman whose name she does not even know, mostly because she figures that, being Verity, she will find her way out of that mess should that be the outcome. (Though with Iskra on her side as well, some part of her imagines she will not even have to face that challenge alone. It's not that she imagines Iskra as a knight in shining armor saving her from the metaphoric dragon of being wed to someone so uncouth she'd make obscene gestures with her mouth and then even dare to offer her bride-to-be to another! (How utterly insulting.) ...anyway, perhaps that really is what she is imagining and perhaps the idea pleases her as well, for as much she insists that Iskra has never been her knight the trope just works too well for her imagination to not leap from their former roles. Interestingly, she does not even consider how Halen, without a shadow of doubt, would also work to save Verity from the clutches of unworthy swine. Somehow, that scenario just does not occur to her or if it does, it does not please her imagination as much as the former fantasy. One she would hope would end with a kiss or perhaps, if she is feeling coy, bestowing a token of her gratitude unto the pirate. Perhaps a hair clip? Or maybe her scarf? A scarf would likely be better. Now, just where did she put hers...)

Distracted as she is, she hardly notices or takes in the fact that one of their engines has been taken out before the start of the race or even that the race has started! The exiled, momentarily, remains fixed staring out the window at all the streaks of starlight trying to recall exactly where that scarf of hers is located––not at all realizing she is wearing the garment. Unfortunately, it is likely she will never make that discovery because with the storm of chaos outside, she is soon shaken from her thoughts as two ships collide into either side of The Dark Fate and try to kennel the vessel towards a tight cluster of asteroids that would be impossible for them to navigate through. It also quickly becomes clear that with the positioning of these ships, they are just out of range of The Dark Fate's firing power. That at least seems to be enough for the exiled to find a focus for her earlier energy as her mind works to come up with a plan to place her somewhere closer to the center of the action.

"Iskra," she says, stepping into the pirate's line of view, "allow me to handle those two ships––focus the fire power on the asteroids, if we can blast that large one we should be able to scrape through. Are the shields still up?" However, despite the exiled's question––as if the question were to serve as more of reminder than anything else––she races off to gather together a small group of pirates to enact her partially formed planned. With urgency as her guide, she doesn't have the Time to wait for Iskra's input or approval and, as always, she decides to act with her usual gall and bravado.

With her supplies and small team gathered, pirates who she remembers having a fondness for her before she murdered their captain and seem to at least tolerate her proximity now, she makes towards the railing of the ship and hands each of the women a supply of grenades while she carries a launching device over her shoulder. She then sends half the team over to the opposite wing with instructions on where to aim. At her instruction, the women all rain explosives on each of the enemy ships doing damage to weaken the shields and start small fires within each ship. When an opening presents itself, Verity aims for the ship's wing and fires a series of detonators towards the area in an effort to not only destabilize the ship, but to also send it crashing backwards into the slew of others entered in this race. After all, the less competition the better and if she can take out multiple enemies with a fell swoop then why not? It's just being strategic.

"Nice shot, honey, but is that really the way to treat your new friends? They aren't going to be happy that you wrecked their fucking ships––but I'm sure your sweetlips can find a way to make it up to them," the blue haired women taunts through the communication channel, just as her ship whizzes ahead of The Dark Fate.

 

[Syntra]

Generally, Iskra didn't really mind losing. It just proved that you weren't good enough, you see? Like an UV lamp, it cast light on that which had previously been unseen-- 'look,' each loss said, 'and don't you dare to avert your gaze. Learn from this, or perish.' And ah, how the pirate loved these lessons! When they were written in your own blood rather than captured on the pages of a textbook, you absorbed them eagerly, in the same way water-starved soil drank rain, and... and it gave everything a strange sort of purpose, it seemed. A specific flavor. Wasn't it true, after all, that in order to make sweetness shine in a meal, you had to add salt as well? That a contrast was needed for your tongue to truly know the taste? Victory, as every warrior knew, could be overwhelming-- too much of it, and you'd grow numb to its appeal. With no obstacles to slow you down, you'd just march forward, mindlessly, blind to the wonders along the road. So, indeed, a good loss could be a blessing as well!

...not when it was Verity who to pay the price, though. Not then, and certainly not when the only lesson to be learned from this was 'never trust the word of a criminal!' (Just, how dared she? Honor was in short supply in this corner of the galaxy, the pirate knew, but she had thought, at least, that these women weren't strangers to pride. All the stories claimed as much, if nothing else. To the pilots from the legends, their own skill was their god, and the proper way to worship it was to trust it, dammit. So, why would she betray her own ideals like that? Why would she sacrifice her legacy on the altar of easy victory? Breaking her promise to the pirate was one thing, but to betray her own foremothers... no. No, Iskra could never respect such an opponent!) With her blood practically boiling, the captain opened the communication channel. "Ah, is that so? Were you this afraid of The Dark Fate that you had to resort to sabotage? A justified fear. In fact, you should have confessed your worries to me-- I would have destroyed the engine myself, to give you a fair fighting chance. Oh yes, indeed! I know that, as a mere hobbyist, you cannot hope to compete with the likes of us. We do this for a living, you know? Manoeuvres you cannot even imagine, let alone perform. The universe belongs to me, along with all its stars, and I shall drown you in it regardless. You will regret the day you learned my name, you scoundrel!"

And, with her gaze laser-focused on claiming their victory? Iskra even forgot to complain about the princess risking her life needlessly. "Right," the captain nodded, "I'll blast it to the next dimension. I'm counting on you to take out the ships, then. Let's show them how pirates do these things!" 'Good luck,' she would have added, but that felt somewhat redundant-- the memory of Verity mauling Inure with her grenade launcher was still fresh in Iskra's mind, and so she sincerely doubted she'd need something as fickle as luck to pull it off. "But, Verity? Make sure to always stand in the vicinity of something that can support your weight, and that you can easily grab onto. I may need to... uh, perform some adventurous tricks."

"Oh no," Myrne moaned in the background, her face so pale it would give the average wall a run for its money, "I really shouldn't have eaten my breakfast today, huh?"

...and, as much as Iskra would have liked to debunk the claim, she couldn't. (Not with the kind of plan that had hatched in her mind, anyway.)

With no sign of hesitation, she spun the steering wheel-- The Dark Fate turned around, again and again and again, dancing along the edges of a mad spiral. (One of the asteroids scraped them, almost, but at the last second, Iskra sped by it, and... oh, by the Shade! The sound of her own blood, drumming wildly in her ears? The sweetest song she'd ever heard, most definitely.) "There will be recoil," Iskra warned before letting her hand fall on the lever, "so get ready. We won't be slowing down. Three... two... one... Now!" Liquid fire poured from the canon than, hotter than thousands of sun, and the power of that blast? Oh, it almost sent them back flying! It would have, actually, had the pirate not stepped on the gas with her entire weight. (The Dark Fate groaned in protest, but she cared not for its pain. So what if they were flying right into the maelstrom of flames and melted rocks? They were getting Inure back, which meant that there was no need to be particularly gentle with this ship. No, it surviving the race would be more than enough!) "It's about to get hot in here," she announced to the crew, shortly before noticing that things were, uh, getting hot for their opponents as well. (That explosion? Yeah, it was safe to say that Iskra wouldn't want to see it from up-close, the way those ships' pilots had gotten to. ...just, wow. Verity was good with a grenade launcher, wasn't she? Just like she was good with a sword, and her words, and probably other things as well, and Iskra... Iskra couldn't afford to think of that now, dammit. Focus! she reprimanded herself. Focus on the immediate goal.)

The temperature kept rising and rising, to the point it felt that her skin was going to melt, but stubbornly, the pirate pushed forward. Just a little more. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! The metal skeleton of the ship was creaking, like an old door, almost, and never before had Iskra been so acutely aware of just how easily it could crush their bones if it collapsed on itself-- which, hahaha, was a prospect so funny it almost made her cry. In the end, though? They made it! Just like an acrobat that had mastered the art of jumping through fire hoops, The Dark Fate emerged unscathed on the other side. Whew. Relief flooded her body, despite her brain still feeding her adrenaline, but then... Oh no.

Oh no, indeed. Because, the welcome they received there? It wasn't the freedom to pursue the finish line on their own terms. No, a few more ships were waiting for them there, and before they could do anything about it, they were surrounded, and... What was that, actually? A net? Yes, a steel net that they'd gotten stuck in, like a fly in a spider's web!

"Don't even try," Verity's 'fiance' announced in a sing songy voice. "The magnetic field of your ship is allll kinds of fucked now. If you shoot, you'll only manage to hit yourself! So, just stay there, sit pretty and wait for me to reach the finish line. In the meantime, you can imagine the things I'll do to you when you're mine, princess! Are you looking forward to it?"

...okay, that was so over the line Iskra couldn't even see it anymore. "Verity?" she pulled out her communicator, her voice shaking with barely restrained anger. "Do you know where the flamethrowers are? Since I believe we'll need to go melt the net."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Ordinarily, battle is not something that the exiled favors. Despite it being one of the many burdens placed on princesses' shoulders in her homelands, and where she normally took to each of her responsibilities with the utmost seriousness, this is the one area she would have preferred others be responsible for. However, as of late, Verity has found more reason to call to arms to solve her problems and through the exposure it has somewhat grown on her. After all, it would be a lie to deny that watching those ships succumb to such a fiery end, one in which she imagines their very bones are incinerated and nothing left will remain of the pilot or her crew, is a little more than just satisfying. In fact, the exiled would be remiss to deny that she finds it thrilling to honor the sage Violence. (Of course, she does try to justify her actions with the thought that if they are to lose then Inure will be pried apart until nothing of her remains––not her star, not her memories, not her gems. She will disappear like the other relics that have been scattered and destroyed throughout the galaxy. ...The prospect of being wed to some scoundrel also bothers her, obviously, and yet she concerns herself more with the grand ancestor above all else. The possible wedding is secondary to Inure.)

While hungry orange lights up the scenery outside of the ship, the heat biting into her cheeks and threatening to blister her skin, the exiled gathers some loose pirates and pulls them towards the mast of the ship where she secures them all down with ropes to ride out the fervid wave. Her eyes sweep over the deck, tallying all the women and searching for any who may not be braced to push through their own blast. With assurance that there will be no lives lost due to being tossed about the ship, her eyes finally lock onto Iskra. She finds herself wondering just when the captain had become so confident. Not that she necessarily thinks that Iskra is insecure or anything remotely close to that, but this side of the pirate is only one she has recently begun to get a taste for and... well, awe inspiring is not the phrase Verity would use to describe how she feels, but the display does inspire something within the exiled. Were it not for the nature of their current predicament, she might have lost herself thinking about how Iskra might use her assertive nature in other contexts.

Thankfully, she is spared from those daydreams as the ship exits through the vaporized asteroids and they enter yet another trap. One that comes with another vulgar warning from her "betrothed." Suggestive commentary generally does not bother Verity, but in this context she would like to crush this woman between her thighs if she truly thinks she is going to be doing anything to her. Even as hopeless as this situation seems, she does not plan on giving up and it seems Iskra is on the same page as her as well. "Flamethrowers?" she asks, untying herself from the mast and making towards where she last saw Saavika––as she doesn't think it's a reach to assume that if it involves fire, Saavika is likely a good indicator of where that could be. "Yes, I think I've found them––I'll bring them over," she says, gritting her teeth together as she runs towards the pyrotechnic and, as expected, finds the items she had been looking for.

After she has gathered the supplies, she makes towards Iskra. Again, despite how perilous their situation seems, the exiled has faith in the captain that no matter the outcome of this race, Inure will be safe and she as well. (As arrogant as it feels to think the captain wants to save her after everything that has happened between them, there is an undeniable feeling in her gut that Iskra will protect her. Perhaps because of her earlier fantasies that were born of this same unfounded assurance? However, there is no Time to investigate those minor insecurities any further.) She hands the captain one of the devices and fastens the fuel pack over her shoulders. "Are you ready, captain?" Though the question seems more formality than anything else, because Verity has already found a promising area and begins to melt away the net.

Still, even with her belief that the outcome of this endeavor will always be the same, the worry still sits uncomfortably against her chest. The flames, while they are endless and burn her cheeks once more, she just does not know if there is a way to catch up with the lead racer––which means their only hope at winning, at least, is Halen. That prospect is hardly settling.

The net melts enough that they are able to muscle The Dark Fate through its glowing entrapment and by that point, it nearly seems inevitable that this race will not be their Victory with how much distance they have to make up. "Iskra, I mean not to bring negativity, but we need to think of plan to secure Inure's safety," she says, watching the race on one of the monitors and is actually surprised to see Cynosure is solidly positioned to take third place. (Now, the greater question to pose, is Verity surprised because Halen is doing so well? Or because she is doing poorly? That will likely remain a mystery.) "Were we to make a quick jump into hyperspace it is possible that Victory will be rightfully ours," ah, well she had not meant to couple herself with the captain and her crew, but there is not the Time to investigate that (fortunately). "But such a jump wouldn't leave us with anything to––"

'Sages! What was that?' Because another blast hits the vessel, causing The Dark Fate to rock and groan. The hit isn't entirely unsettling on its own, however whatever lodged itself into the ship is filled with large centipede shaped droids that both attack the crew as well as burrow into the ship, likely on their way to chew up the remaining engine.

"Consider this an early wedding present, princess––love sure makes you do crazy things," the punk chuckles through the line. "Tell you what, though, since I'm just so fucking nice––I won't destroy that pretty little ship of yours, but only if you actually prove your worth tonight. Might wanna practice one last time with that cute little captain of yours."

 

[Syntra]

"Always," Iskra nodded, and then she was grabbing one of the flamethrowers. Clearly, the time for speeches had passed-- grand as pacifist goals might have been, enemies simply had to be drowned in fire. That was why they were called enemies, after all, and not, say, friends in disguise who might come around. (And, oh, would she enjoy putting the punk down! Rarely did Iskra celebrate bloodshed, but certain people were begging for it-- not with their words, perhaps, but with every breath they took, and with that which she could read beyond what they were saying. This woman, for example? To Iskra's ears, every innuendo meant to dishonor Verity was a fervent prayer to her sword! 'Please,' the woman whispered, in that sing songy voice that annoyed her so, 'please, put me out of my misery.' ...which was exactly what she planned to do, mind you. What? Did you think she'd been kidding? Because captain Iskra never stained her lips with a lie. Not even during the occasions when that might have been wiser, in fact.) Sparks danced around them, like a bunch of fireflies, indeed, and-- oh. Surrounded by that kind of scenery, the princess looked rather charming, didn't she? Not that she didn't look charming in other contexts, but the flecks of light bestowed a peculiar glow onto her skin, and Iskra couldn't help but wonder briefly what kissing it away would feel like. Of course, the thought came and went. How could it not? It was foolish, foolish, foolish! ...in her memory, the time when she had claimed the princess's lips was still fresh-- as fresh as the blood that had filled her mouth.)

"Hmm?" Iskra looked up from her section of the net. "Worry not, Verity. No matter what happens, I shall not allow the scoundrel to seize you! She won't have either you or Inure, this much I can promise. That... that fiend," the captain spat out, as if that was the worst curse word she could possibly imagine, "forfeited her right to a fair match the moment she betrayed our trust. We shall still try to win, but if that doesn't happen... I will not hand you over. As long as I still breathe, you shall remain by my side. If, ahh," Iskra stammered upon realizing the depths of her folly, "if you want to, I mean. I am not planning to capture you," the way she had last time. Just, aaargh! Why did this entire conversation resemble a mine field? Step left, and you'd hurt Verity-- step right, and you'd hurt Iskra. How to navigate a space as narrow as this, huh? How to not let Verity walk all over her while also avoiding stepping on the princess's back at the same time? Someone had to act as the living shield here, it seemed, which... which wasn't at all what Iskra desired, in truth. Not anymore. What if they were destined to bring the other pain, though? When the attraction between two magnets was too strong, after all, they collided, and just like that, they could break. ...it was hard not to see the parallels, really. I suppose, the pirate thought, that there is no path but the one that leads forward. That, and treading lightly might help as well.

That lightness of her step, however? Not even that could stop her from walking right into that wretched woman's trap, apparently. "Oh, by the Shade," Iskra cursed. Swiftly, she raised her weapon and showered the droids with fire, but oh, they just kept coming! More and more and more of them, too, like a swarm of angry wasps, which-- ahhh. Somehow, without realizing it, the pirate had fought her way closer to the princess, and now their backs were touching. Oh well! A least they got to protect one another, Iskra supposed? (And as for the blush that colored her cheeks, then that was irrelevant, thank you very much. Just a result of exertion.) "You alright, Verity?" the pirate squinted. ('Alright,' of course, being a relative term-- few people who found themselves on a burning ship that was also being attacked by robots would use that word to describe their situation. Ah, to hell with that punk! ...with some luck, perhaps Iskra would get to send her there personally, though. Hmm, hmm. Did they have anything to lose here, actually? Her women were holding their own against the droids, yes, though the tide was unrelenting, and their forces were growing weaker by the seconds, and... and... Shade have mercy, they were but delaying the inevitable! When in doubt, Iskra reminded herself, always go for the queen. Always.)

That mantra, it seemed, poured new strength into her veins. "Verity!" the pirate exclaimed, in a tone that suggested that she was not, in fact, accepting constructive criticism. "Temporarily, I'm naming you the captain of this ship. Make sure The Dark Fate doesn't fall. You can do that, can't you? Take care of my subordinates, and when I return, I shall give you your terrible fiance's head. Don't you agree that our reunion should be celebrated with a gift, after all? And I can't think of anything better." With that, Iskra pressed one of the buttons lining the wall, and a small, sleek escape pod emerged-- an escape pod that also seemed to have its own canon attached to it, so maybe it would have been more apt to call it 'combat pod'. "In this, she won't be able to hit me as easily," the captain explained, "and I shall get to her faster as well. The pod, you see, runs on hyperfuel." (The super volatile hyperfuel, yes. A single hit and the whole vessel would be torn into pieces, but honestly, who cared? The enemy had toyed with Verity's honor, so she had to pay! ...and, besides, this obviously wouldn't be a problem at all if Iskra managed not to get hit. Silver linings, you know? And speaking of those...) "Will you give me your token?" Iskra blurted out, despite herself. "To, um, steady my aim. You don't have to if you don't want to, though. It's... another tradition of my people, basically. We invoke it when facing overwhelming odds."

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Often, Verity dreams of her fairytale story––the story her people will speak once she has long since passed and perhaps future iterations of her soul will hear. This is the one constant that the exiled has carried with her throughout her Life, even before she ever had worn that tiara on her head. Wearing the tiara had only inspired her fantasies, making them seem possible that she could have a romance foretold by the stars and Cosmos above. Rarely, however, does Verity ever truly get caught up in her fanciful desires, recognizing somewhere that fairytales are just stories and stories rarely if ever capture reality. Even with that in mind, and perhaps even realizing that thinking of such whims is dangerous given the heat that surrounds them and threatens to extinguish The Dark Fate and her crew from existence, the exiled cannot help but to see all the parallels between her own Life and her most cherished tropes. With Iskra defending her back while these robotic creatures skitter through the ship and threaten the safety of the crew; a villain who threatens to whisk away a princess; and a princess whose heart has already been promised to another; the narrative writes itself. While that tale unfolds in her head, the exiled still remains focused on doing everything in her power to ensure that happily ever after despite the situation growing more perilous.

There are not enough hands on this ship to both fight off the centipedes and continue to carry them forward; she is only able to briefly glimpse at the monitor, but it is clear the distance they have to cover makes their Victory less and less a possibility as the other ships in the race sail forward. 'Blessed sages give us the wisdom to see our goals through.' The exiled refuses to give up and with the comfort of the pirate behind her, she does not let her spirit falter. For even if this race does not end in their Victory, with the captain's promise still fresh in her mind, Verity is given the assurance that they will not fail because Iskra is a woman of honor and there is no better person for her to trust in this venture. (The prospect of remaining by Iskra's side even after this race has finished and after their enemy is laid to waste is a pleasing one, Verity must admit. It also aligns with the stories in her head and as comforting as all those are, she knows that she cannot make any agreements while the air is still hot around them. For as much as trusts Iskra, and she wholly does, she must also carry with her the knowledge that action often inspires heroic statements. When it is calm again, that is when she will make her decision. A moment too soon may only result in pulling spearheads from wounds without taking necessary caution to stop the gush that will follow. She cannot damn them twice.)

The centipedes continue to crawl about the ship and Verity almost believes that they are multiplying on the spot with how relentless the waves come in. She can see the women aboard growing tired yet still persisting and for a moment, she believes that should this be their demise. Verity makes peace with knowing they will have to acquire Inure through alternative means. She makes peace, too, knowing that Iskra will protect her from the woman who not only aims to make her into a harlot, but threatens that which is most precious to her. Though when Iskra calls to her, seeming mad with the pursuit of her goal, the exiled forgets about her silent concessions and is lit with new responsibility. (As much as she hates the idea of the pirate going off on her own in one of those volatile deathtraps, there is nothing in her body that remembers how to tell Iskra, 'No, please don't.' If this is how the pirate wants to win, then she must honor that. If this is how she will choose to be a shield, then it is her path to walk and Verity cannot stop her. There is no Time for heated words, only trust.)

"Under my guidance, I shall not let anyone aboard this ship perish, Iskra. That is my promise to you," she nods, taking a moment to turnaround to face the pirate––silly as the desire is, she gives into it. Slick with a sheen of sweat from all the flames, hair disheveled from everything their opponents have thrown at them, radiating with confidence, she has never seen a more Beautiful version of Iskra. There is the temptation to offer her a kiss as her token, but she remembers her earlier concerns of hasty decisions and decides against it with the silent reminder that there will be a more appropriate moment to discover if those old flames still exist. "Tokens, among my people, serve as protection for our warriors. So go forth knowing that my essence is with you and will be your guardian, my dear Iskra," she says, removing the scarf from around her neck and draping it over her companion. Then, before sending the captain off, she adds, "Return with her head and I should like to talk about what my future joining you aboard Inure shall look like."

With the burden of leadership once more placed on her shoulders, Verity waits for none to question Iskra's sanity in passing the helm to the woman who murdered her. "Alright, ladies, we must ensure the captain's protection," she says, not worried about her own safety or that there are still several pirates who would sooner listen to a pile of manure command them than Verity. In her eyes, this is her chance to prove her worth to the others and earn her redemption. She takes to the control panel and eyes the enemy ships that still trail with them, as well as the ones that are ahead, and, of course, she opens a monitor to watch the captain's pod. 'At this rate, Victory is in Iskra's hands. We can only protect her and wreak havoc upon these ruffians' ships.'

That largely becomes their goal. While Verity does not give up on the race itself, she has the crew focus their fire power on the ships that threaten Iskra's pod and the ships who dare try to get in their way. With the knowledge that they are not leaving this ordeal without Inure Verity decides to leave the centipedes be, especially as their numbers have thinned out considerably since their initial deployment. Instead, she orders the crew to primarily focus their efforts on their outside adversaries. She encourages them to pull asteroids closer to them using the tractor beams as a way to create more obstacles for those behind them; she has them deploy a trail of detonators behind them and only activates them once a wave of ships fly over them; and missiles are sent to destroy the ones aimed at Iskra's pod. The scene around them becomes a magnificent spectacle to any onlooker.

Even so, their efforts are not enough. Over the intercom, the robot announcer from earlier proclaims, "Victory! To Demetria and the demolition derby girls. Losers, please hold your fire and yield the spoils to our victor."

"You hear that, princess? You're all mine now," the blue haired punk, Demetria, gloats, "hand yourself over and I won't harm those pirate friends of yours."

 

[Syntra]

In the chaos that ruled this universe, only few certainties existed-- certainties that, if examined properly, could very well turn out to be variables in disguise. Just take a look at gravity, for example. The concept seemed integral to one's understanding of the world and how to operate in its context, but who was to say that the law was unchangeable? That there weren't places which subverted it, and followed some other principle entirely? Iskra's travels hadn't brought her to such a planet, but that didn't mean that it didn't exist. Oh no, no, no! (The vastness of their galaxy was overwhelming, you see, and when compared to that, their eyes saw no further than just beyond the tips of their own nose. Blind like bats, they wandered aimlessly, stumbling over horrors and miracles alike, and... and only a fool would dare to speak in absolutes, given these circumstances. Still, foolishness was a human condition, wasn't it? Some kind of anchor was needed, Iskra thought, otherwise you'd float away-- away from your goals, yes, but also from yourself, and everything that made you that person. What was uncertainty, after all, if not inertia? Fear to move forward, essentially? The one who allowed her mind to be chained by indecision stood in place, thinking that this would keep her safe, but oh, was that stupid, stupid, stupid! The universe didn't stop breathing for the whims of a single fool, you know? Its giant lungs expanded and shrunk, expanded and shrunk, expanded and shrunk, in the same ancient, unchanging rhythm, and every breath moved you, whether you liked it or not. So, trying to remain in one place wouldn't make it that way! After a while, you'd find yourself somewhere else completely, caught up in that stream, and there was no guarantee that you'd like that destination.

Knowing all of that, then, Iskra chose some certainties for herself. They weren't universal, mind you, but they belonged to her, and in that respect, they were perfect. So, what was among those certainties? Why, that she could trust Verity! (In that regard, at the very least.) "I know," she mumbled, her voice barely louder than whisper. "If Ylna gives you trouble, don't hesitate to use force. That woman only understands power." When Verity bestowed her scarf upon her, though? With shaking hands, Iskra took it from her, and tied it around her own neck. "May it protect me from the enemy missiles, then. And... and if nothing else, I have a reason to return to you in one piece now," the pirate smiled shyly. "Regardless of all else, I must give you your token back! You shouldn't be deprived of a garment this pretty, after all."

And so Iskra ventured into the dark nothingness, with the pod as the only barrier between herself and certain death. This, she thought, must be what sardines in a can feel like. The vessel was small, uncomfortably so, and the pirate felt as if she had had to break her own limbs to force herself inside of it, but that was also one of its strengths. Because, to larger ships, she was a mere speck of dust-- tiny, and thus also untargetable. A mosquito that buzzed near their heads relentlessly, indeed, and everyone knew how hard it was to squish those! ...except that, unlike mosquitoes, Iskra could do far, far more to this Demetria than just bite her. The message of the punk's victory flared across her screen, red like blood, but the pirate? The pirate did not care. Not when, soon enough, the woman's blood would be spilled for real! Enjoy the fruits of your treachery while you can, you ruffian, Iskra thought. I hope those three seconds of triumph will be worth it. Someone shot at her, but gracefully, the captain dodged-- the position she found herself in then was perfect for counterattack, too, and so the enemy ship went down in flames. This is for you, Verity, she smirked, my first offering. And for you as well, Demetria! Look, and glimpse a preview of your own fate. Are you regretting your actions now?

More and more ships shot at her, lasers and rockets and everything in between, but among that sea of fire, Verity created a path for her-- one marked by the corpses of the enemy vessels, and the dying screams of their pilots. Ah, was that not the most beautiful of symphonies? Truly, the sound spoke to one's heart, in a way nothing else could! (In the language of victory, which all the history books had been written in. In the pirate's mind, the ink associated with it was golden, and the letters? Those were as tall, to match the giants who had drawn them!) Swift like the wind, Iskra sailed forward and readied her canon. Just a few more metres, she realized. If I can get just a little bit closer, I will be able hit one of their tanks with fuel, which--

"Attention!" a stern voice blasted from everyone's speakers. It sounded nothing like the robotic announcer from before-- this was a woman speaking, undoubtedly made of flesh and blood, but oh, was her tone wrapped in formality! The kind of formality you could only ever find in... "The Guardians of the Sector 47 are speaking. You are surrounded." Oh, by the Shade! Surrounded they were, indeed-- the sleek, elegant vessels materialized seemingly out of thin air, though Iskra knew that that was just their camouflage software at play. All those connections to the Starlight Industries? Well, those ensured that nobody had more advanced tech than they did. "Cease your illegal activities at once, and prepare your ships for our inspection. Regretfully," she announced, in a voice that spoke of triumph more than it did of regret, "we've received the orders to vaporize those who fail to comply. Though our hearts are heavy, of course, we need to obey. Is that clear, or will there be casualties today? What do you say, scum?" ...well, at least they didn't bother to hide their true selves for long, Iskra supposed. (Scum, lowlives, expendables-- that was all her and people like her were to them, really. Yet another anonymous number in the statistics! Did they not see that they contributed to them as well, through the system they'd agreed to uphold? This refusal to accept responsibility, the pirate thought, was staggering. No, when you looked for justice, you wouldn't find it among those who wore the Guardians' uniform!) "Verity," she spoke into her communicator, her tone urgent, "run. Please. Several of my women are... well, they will kill them on sight. Don't worry about me! We will reunite later." ...maybe, if the Shade was kind enough.

 

[starboob]

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Her heart thunders in her ears, loud enough that all of her thoughts are lost somewhere in the storm. That Demetria has won is not all that surprising to the exiled––that outcome had been all but predetermined the second the punk had decided to destroy one of their engines and use other tactics to ensure their demise. With so many ships racing for her as well, the odds had been stacked against them since the start. (Of course, now it makes so much sense why the leader of the demolition derby gals would challenge them to race in exchange for Inure. It had never been about dangling a prize in front of them, because truthfully Demetria had probably never intended to hand over Inure and her larger goal likely was to claim Verity for herself. Not that the exiled is trying to be narcissistic in assuming the punk's intentions, but had she been okay with the prospects of losing both Inure and the chance at the princess's hand in marriage? Well, she probably would not have cheated and the race would have been with honor.)

Then with the punk threatening to harm the crew that Verity has sworn to protect, her options begin to feel more limited than before. Where she guesses that Iskra's women would be up to fight, she cannot ask them to fight for her own freedom. This is a deal she has made and though her opponent has been nothing short of dishonorable, if she breaks her promise to Iskra then what is she if not more of the same brand of wretchedness this galaxy has to offer? She clenches her fists at her sides as she stares at the monitor in front of her, the decision obvious and yet part her hopes she does not actually have to surrender herself to that punk. The thought occurs to her to flee, but in doing so they would likely end up leaving Iskra behind and that is just not something she can afford to do. The crew would never forgive her––

––yet, that seems to be exactly what Iskra wants her to do. With the arrival of the Guardians and their message of warning over the communication channels, the likelihood of a fight becomes ever more imminent. Though her experience with the Guardians is limited, she does know enough to know that these are not reputable defenders of Justice and nearly every division is wrought with corruption. Now, enemies from multiple fronts surround them and Verity must remain calm. Despite the peril of the situation, it is a leader's duty to remain strong and inspire hope among her following. She must remember this. "Iskra, I promise you, no harm will come to your women. May this goodbye be a promise that we will see each other again––you still owe me that woman's head after all," she says, finding it in her to make light of the situation and knowing, too, it might inspire Iskra’s hope.

Through the monitors, Verity can make out a clear path for them to warp into lightspeed and lose the Guardians as well as the demolition derby girls. She begins to turn the wheel, making sure to make the motion as slow as possible so as to not alert anyone that they are planning on making a jump. If anything, she wants those on the outside to assume the ship is drifting on its own. As slow as the movement is, the exiled still shakes, cold sweat beading around her brow line, as she imagines the Guardians will use any excuse to brandish their shiny new weapons. "Ready the engine to make a jump to lightspeed!" she calls to the crew, keeping her eyes trained on the monitor. All they need are a few precious minutes and the path to safety will be clear.

Precious minutes they may not be afforded as a blast from Demetria's ship hits the hull, shaking the vessel and causing Verity to nearly lose her footing. The blue haired punk's voice travels breaks through the communicator, "Yo, what the fuck? I don't see your pretty little ass moving out to the Guardian platform. I'd rather not kill such a darling set of lips, but if you don't hand yourself over, The Dark Fate is gonna meet an explosive fucking fate."

"I––wait, the Guardian platform?"

"Uh, yeah, duh––we own Sector 47 and that fucking includes the damn fuzz. Now, quit keepin' me waiting––I'm just dying to know how you taste."

If Verity had any trust in Demetria before, it is decimated with the knowledge that she owns the Guardians and it becomes obvious that it does not matter whether or not she hands herself over––The Dark Fate will be vaporized, along with anyone aboard. It is clear what Verity must do. "Demetria, don't you think it would be far more romantic if you came out here and gathered me yourself? I mean, I hardly know what you look like and I just adore the idea of you carrying me off to my new Life," she giggles, making it seem as though she is wholly into the prospect of being married off to someone so vulgar. As if she has no standards at all, but she reasons this is a necessary ruse to keep the promise she made to Iskra.

When Demetria agrees to meet her, Verity turns to Estrelle, "She is not going to follow through on her promise, that much is obvious. By the Time Demetria gets over here and I surrender myself, The Dark Fate will be in position to make a short jump into lightspeed. So long as I cooperate, you are afforded that Time to turn the ship."

"But, princess––"

"My mind is made. Get into position to make the jump. I reckon you will only have a second between when I leave and Demetria making her final move," she says, with such finality in her tone that there is no room for anyone to question her. Not allowing herself to think of other solutions to this problem, she waits for her "betrothed" to arrive at the edge of the railing, watching all the ships that surround them and taking a final look at that small pod she knows contains Iskra. 'Sages and Divinities alike, please protect them. Your descendant begs this of you, please hear me.'

Demetria's ship arrives and a light bridge is connected between The Dark Fate and the demolition derby ship. Slowly, Verity steps onto the bridge and makes her way towards the punk, keeping her stride small to ensure that the crew behind her is afforded the most protection she can provide by giving them enough Time to settle into their position.

"There's my princess," Demetria smirks, meeting the princess halfway across the bridge and kissing each cheek. "We're gonna have so much fun together." And just like that Verity is whisked away by the demolition derby gals and The Dark Fate disappears behind her.

***

Meanwhile, aboard Cynosure, Halen opens a communication between herself and that escape pod she knows belongs to that dreadful pirate her friend seems to adore. For whatever asinine reason she may have. "Captain Iskra, I offer you protection aboard my ship from the Guardians. On my honor, I swear no harm will come to you. For the sake of transparency, know that I do this for Verity. The choice, however, is yours."

 

[Syntra]

Everything went according to the plan, sort of. Well, fine, nothing did, actually, but what did it matter? With Verity and The Dark Fate far away from Demetria's clutches, not all was lost-- Iskra merely had to find an escape route that wouldn't end with the pod exploding. (It would be nice to avoid captivity, too, but if push came to shove... well, the pirate would accept her destiny. As far as she was aware, they knew not of her undying status, right? Because captain Iskra had the reputation of a woman who evaded death, not of one who embraced it. Not a single lie had had to be uttered for her to feed that reputation, either-- stuck in their pre-conceived notions, her enemies had come to that conclusion on their own entirely. And, really, who could blame them? Just like an apple always fell from the apple tree in a straight line, so did the human mind gravitate towards the most logical explanation. Now, such an explanation wasn't always necessarily correct, but it did serve its purpose in allowing people to exist without doubts crippling them at every step. 'How do I know that my water isn't poisoned?' they would have asked, without that convenient trait. 'How do I know that the ground isn't going to collapse under my weight?' 'How do I know that a mass shooter isn't going to end my life today if I go to pick up groceries?' The answer was that they couldn't know any of these things-- they were improbable, but not impossible, and the brain had had to learn to be okay with that improbability. So, taking advantage of that tendency, all she had to do was die in their holding cell! ...and hope that, instead of cremating or dissecting her body immediately, they'd let her rot unguarded. Now, Iskra didn't really enjoy the prospect of leaving so much to up to chance, but what other choice did she have? Sometimes, you just had to take the plunge, and allow the universe to spin the wheel of fate for you. What would it be this time, huh? Salvation, or damnation? A sweet kiss of death, pressed against her lips with ferocious finality?)

...except that then, then the rules of this little competition changed before her very eyes, and Iskra wanted to scream. Verity! (No, no, no, no. Just, impossible. How could this be? She'd promised, from the bottom of her heart, that the scoundrel wouldn't have the princess-- that she'd bring her her head, even. With her blood, the pirate had intended to write a message, too! 'I care for you, Verity. Please, forgive me for the way I've stained the bond we once had,' or something along those lines. ...did she hope that, with such a gesture, they could return to that? To that state where they'd finished each other's sentences, and polished the ideas born from their endless conversations? Perhaps, to some extent. Claiming otherwise would have been just lying to herself, which was just another trap! A blindfold, really, and one she would have worn of her own accord as well. A much larger part of her, however, knew that that was a dream of a foolish girl-- something unworthy of the monster she'd become, forged in blood and fire. How could you hold silk with claws, after all? You couldn't, couldn't, couldn't! The fabric would get torn apart, in the same way Iskra had shredded Verity's trust to pieces, and... and trying to win it once again would only lead to more heartbreak, inevitably. No, for princess's sake, the pirate couldn't be selfish! ...perhaps they could at least speak about what had transpired among them, though. The ghosts of their last interaction still haunted her, wailed inside of her head, and oh, how Iskra yearned for the blessed peace! That wasn't an unreasonable desire, now was it? No, surely the pirate had the right to that, at least.)

Before the princess could help her silence those furious voices, though? She had to save her first. Even if it meant to ally herself with... "Captain Halen," Iskra spoke to the communicator, throwing her pride aside. (Verity would be the one to pay the price, you see, and that was a sacrifice she couldn't demand from her. Couldn't, and wouldn't!) "I accept. For Verity's sake, lett us join forces. Pick me up, then, so that we may discuss the strategy." Fortunately, with the Guardians so scattered, it was easy to navigate the pod closer to Cynosure-- close enough, at least, for Halen to pull her inside.

"Captain Halen," Iskra practically ran to the other woman, as time was of essence, "thank you for seeing past our differences. I shall not forget this." An empty pleasantry to some, perhaps, but not to the captain! Halen may have been foolish, yes, though her devotion to the princess appeared to be genuine, and as one fool to another, she could appreciate that. "But, let us skip idle chatter. Do you have any other ships at your disposal? Vessels that our enemies wouldn't be able to associate with us? Or, alternatively, can you perhaps conceal Cynosure so that she wouldn't be identifiable? Because if they have bought the Guardians, I don't believe we can just attack them and take what we want. So, what do you think about us posing as... I don't know, smugglers?" Iskra raised her eyebrow. "We can offer them top notch equipment for ridiculous prices-- that's bound to rouse their interest."

***

Meanwhile, a whole damn orchestra of whistles welcomed Verity aboard her new home-- women both young and old, of all shapes and sizes, had gathered on the deck to greet their captain's new wife. And their consensus? They, uh, mostly approved of the choice.

"Well fuck me, a real princess! Didn't think I'd ever get to see one. No wonder they kept her locked in one of those ivory towers-- I bet she could trigger a war or two with that gaze of hers."

"Wow, Demetria, you really fucking lucked out with that one. Have you seen those legs?"

"And those lips, too," a different woman added, before she licked her own. "Man, I do wonder if they're as skilled as I think! Can I see for myself?" she asked without a hint of shame, as if Verity was just Demetria's shirt she wanted to borrow for the next big party.

"Careful, Lyria," the punk warned and put her arm around Verity's shoulders, "this is my wife you're talking about."

"Not yet," Lyria pointed out cheekily, which, infuriatingly enough, made Demetria laugh.

"True, true. Plus, don't you fucking know me, Lyr? What's mine is also yours. Haven't you learned that lesson with previous wives of mine?"

"Yeah, but this one looks much nicer than the ones you had," Lyria shrugged. "Maybe she'll last for longer, too!"

"Maybe," Demetria chuckled mysteriously, "but sure, sis, she's yours to do with as you please. Tonight, if you want to. Unless," she turned to Verity, "you'd rather entertain me instead, hmmm? What would you like to do, sweet cheeks?"