#2026janwrite

Ciardha smiles wryly against the thought. She is certain Fray would remind her it is her own doing, for getting on the boat with duty upon her shoulders still. It is a different sort of burden, this aimlessness and uncertainty; the knowledge that she should take action while fearing it all the same. The harshness of the sun upon her crown scolds her for it; the heat sears down each strand of hair and brands her back where the tips have grown long enough to reach again. Wuk Lamat has welcomed her to this new place, but it seems Tuliyollal itself senses her treachery.

The breath from her lips is slow and measured, weighted with burden of the impending choice. The rite of Succession, the support of the candidates and the future of a nation that Ciardha had no right to be deciding. She knew so little of this place and understood even less of its people. She has spent less than a day in this city; how could she make such a choice? How could she continue to follow when she looked at Wuk Lamat and saw a good heart but a poor ruler?

The second breath she releases is no less heavy, but Ciardha shakes her thoughts from its fringes. She empties her mind and casts out her senses as she might have in the Twelveswood. There are no elementals to hear in this distant land but there remains no shortage of voices. The water rustles impatiently, the sun berates incessantly, and the relief of the sea breeze goes eerily silent from their scolding.

Only the familiar bevel of an orange stone remains cool in her grip, holding to its rebellion against the heat despite the fingers wrapped around it. Ciardha further quiets her mind, hones her focus upon this singular point. Her gift has never been something to be commanded, but Venat's gentle coaxing still fills her ears each time she tries. She had called it in Elpis when it was needed, surely she can learn to do so again. If she might begin with something familiar then branch out…

Surely she can find the answers she needs.

Ciardha traces the edges of the stone's aether, carefully fingers each thread of its texture and filament of its weave, the rough edges that give way to something smooth and consistent and enduring. There are patches of colour from the brief glimpses she knows and an endless sea of possibilities between them. Carefully she searches, quietly she listens; for the echo of a moment with staying power, for a thread she can grasp.

If you wanted to know, you could just ask.

A stray thought in a familiar tone; perhaps in her searching she has fallen asleep. She has only ever heard them in her dreams.

"I wasn't trying to pry, just practice."

Ciardha cannot see them, but she can feel the twist of Eury's lips and the press of them at her back. The violets of their hair colour her periphery in the sort of fleeting flashes that are impossible to hold onto.

"Practice seeing into the past?" Their voice is more tangible in her ear even if their presence feels less so. The enigma of the person her soul once was is a mystery Ciardha has never peered into too deeply. Lingering traces of an old fear and the fresh mix of new ones always stop her. She had once feared this stone would cause her to lose herself. She hasn't had reason to doubt Eury's intents since they saved her in Ultima Thule, but there are too many impossibilities for her to stare too closely. Maybe she was simply losing her mind in other ways instead. Yet the comfort of their presence, of their voice and their guidance is a nectar far too sweet to ignore.

Even if she is only imagining it all, Ciardha is so desperate she will take it all the same.

"Practice controlling the echo," Ciardha affirms quietly.

"Why do you need to control it?" Eury asks idly, as if the notion is a strange one. "Has it failed you when you needed it?"

"No…" Ciardha must confess and such a simple question chisels into the already crumbling stone of her certainty. "Yet surely it is possible, you were all capable of commanding it back then. I need to be able to draw upon it."

"What for? What do you need to see so badly?"

"I don't know the answer." Ciardha says quietly. "I don't know which path I am meant to walk, what I am supposed to do. There is no one to tell me any longer and I don't know… I need to know what the right path to take is."

"And you think if you can control your echo, it will give you the answer."

When Eury says it so plainly, Ciardha hitches. The echo has always revealed truth to her, and in so doing has she gleaned what she has needed to move forward. Since the moment her gift awoke on Kugane's streets it has come in the crucial moments. It seems only natural that it should have the answer she needs now… doesn't it?

"It won't." The air about her sways as Eury shakes their head, resettles with the heaviness of thick wool against her skin. "I know better than most. No gift does, not even mine."

"Was your gift the same?"

"Almost."

"You saw the future." It dawns like a realization she has always known, though she is certain they've never told her as much. A thousand questions swarm in her mind, buzzing about her ears yet failing to find her tongue. Could they still see it now? Could they give her the answers she needed? Could she learn it as well?

"I could never command my gift." They answer as if they can hear what she hasn't yet said. "It came when it wanted, and left when it needed."

Eury's words are iced steel, they filter through every corner of her until Ciardha cannot move for the weight of them. For a brief second she saw only the glimmer in the notion of knowing the future, now she feels the full burden of it.

"They don't have your answers. They never have, and they never will."

It is the truth Ciardha hasn't wanted to face, but that she knows deep inside of her. "You're right…" she says quietly. "I knew that and yet… I think I just wanted someone to tell me what I should do. I am too unused to this… this living for myself."

"I am sorry to tell you, it never gets easier." Eury says it like it might, at odds with their own words. "But that is what makes it worth doing. You are thinking about it too simply, that there is a right or a wrong way to move forward. There isn't. The wrong path can lead you to the right answer; just look at how the final days all turned out, in the end."

The melancholy sends a shiver down her spine even with the sun still relentless overhead, distant and screaming at her from a place she can no longer hear.

"All we can do is move forward." Ciardha says what sits in the silence between them.

"And trust in this." The press of a finger against her back, right against the steady beating of her heart. "It's gotten you this far, and it has more answers than you think. Don't get caught up in what should be or has to be. You saw what that did to Elidibus."

It drowned him.

"Step forward, keep walking and do what you know to be right."

"And if it isn't?"

"You take the next step. You've faced greater challenges than this." Eury's voice feels more distant and the rushing of the waves overtakes her senses.

It has been years in the making, this little plan of the president's. The stage has been perfectly set; the Champion has risen above even the Tyrant's raw power, and they have set foot into the arena to see a great evil banished for good. For the first time since they began there is a glimmer of hope. Metem has heard it in the president's voice these past months, has seen it grow as the Champion conquered fighter after fighter. Finally the time has come.

To face someone capable of defeating the Lindwurm. Capable of ripping the president's heart from his chest.

Though the president desires her victory, it is far from assured. Only the Champion's utmost power stands a chance of overcoming the Lindwurm's regeneration and to draw it from her he will push her to the very brink. The lindwurm's drive for survival will surge amidst the battle and there is no question this match will be to the death.

Only one of the combatants will walk away from this stage and there is no outcome today that Metem considers a victory. He has promised to see everything through to the end, to hold up the curtain until the final breath falls, yet how can he watch on while the President gives his life away? The only person he has known since his earliest days in Solution Nine.

He has had front row seats to it all; the earliest successes they celebrated together, the horror when the realities of the psychonecrosis came to light. Metem shared the president's desperation to find a solution, watched in distress as the only answer twisted his closest friend into the dreadful beast now confined to this arena. Metem stood by his side as he entombed fighter after fighter until they could be saved, aided however possible, as he plotted his own downfall with a flourish only he was capable of. The greatest show the Arcadion would ever see.

And its greatest sacrifice.

The final step reverberates across the theatre.

The Champion stares unwavering at her opponent. The lindwurm coils and growls a deep sound that floods the space. Its shifting scales crackle against the cameras; her blade unsheathes and stirs the electrope to life.

The entire Arcadion— the whole of Solution Nine— holds its breath.

Never had a choice.

Metem presses his hand against his desk until the strain makes it numb.

Calm them nerves got the whole world watching.

This is it. The moment has come.

He draws in a breath that rattles its way down and swallows the lump at the back of his throat.

Ready set go and there ain't no stopping. Only one option.

You always had a choice, Mr. President. You chose your children.

The Lindwurm roars the opening to the last fight of feral souls the Arcadion will ever see.

Light it up.

Metem presses the button upon his microphone. For this final battle, he will give his best performance yet. It is the least he can do for the one prepared to give everything.

A single tear hits the desk.

"Well well if it isn't the rising star." He recognizes her several minutes before any semblance of a name comes to mind. He and Sugar had gone to scope her out before the start of the Cruiserweight matches, but they hadn't exactly done much in the way of personal introductions. It was one thing to keep track of her on his dance floor, he knew everything that went on there. In the early morning hours from the sofa he'd passed out on, she'd given him one helluva scare. She was as slick and sneaky as the rumours said.

"What brings you all the way out here?" He slides his smoothest grin in place; it was a point of pride he could do so with his stomach in knots.

"You, of course," she answers. Her voice is so quiet he'd not even hear her if this place was open.

"Hey, you're not upset about our little match, are ya? I promise I'm keeping my word and retiring just like I said I would. It's just… still gotta keep things rolling for the fans, you know? Even if I'm not in the ring, they love these parties. I hate to take that away from 'em too."

"Even though you're tired?" The question is gentle and damn if that doesn't make it hurt all the more.

"Even so. You gotta know that too. No way a champion like you is resting on your laurels."

"Just so, though I've a bit of a break before I needs confront Howling Blade."

"Well, if you're lookin' to unwind, I know just the thing." He gestures in the air and it sends the room spinning so suddenly he needs grab the couch not to topple off it. Her arm is there to catch him, and he resteadies himself on the couch.

"Perhaps not just quite yet. I think you may have unwound a bit too much. You ought to re-spool that thread before you try again." She stands herself up and walks over towards the bar.

"Don't be ridiculous, there's never too much in party."

"You and I both know that you do not think that." She sets a glass of water down on the table before him.

Eheeya lets out a single laugh.

"Is something the matter? You needs drink some water to help that hangover."

"Nah, that's not it." He shakes his head and reaches for the glass. "This is just the second time someone's told me that. Recently even."

"Then it must be true." Her eye seems to gleam knowingly. Did she… know them?

"Wait… come to think of it, how did you find me here?"

"A little birdie thought you could use a hand."

She places her own not to far from him and aether blooms around it. It washes over him like a warm shower and almost instantly his head feels clearer. It still wants to rattle a rhythm to compete with his pulse, but the fog and the nausea have nearly vanished.

"How…?" A feral soul might give him the constitution to drink anyone under the table, but even it couldn't do anything about the hangover.

"Alcohol is a toxin," she explains. "And, if one has enough training in healing magics it is not terribly hard to purge poisons from the body. I can't heal all its effects, but that should help, at least a little."

"Why go out of your way for me?" It's a genuine question, and he forgets to strip the confusion from his voice.

"Partially because a dear friend of mine asked, but also because I simply enjoy helping others. Even if it is sometimes to my detriment, or if it sometimes gets me caught up in grand tournaments. I forced you into retirement, it seems the least I could do."

"You didn't force me, you saved my life most likely. I don't like the sound of that psychonecrosis one bit. To me, it was just another dance floor and that stage was dazzling. But its not the only one, and maybe its time I tried looking for a better place to show off some moves."

"That I am glad to hear. Perhaps one that will be kinder to you in the morning, as well?"

That one does make him laugh.

"If you say so, little lady." He cracks open an eye at her.

"Say, I don't think I rightly got your name. Can't be calling you by your fighter name all the time."

"Ciardha," she offers.

"Eheeya, but Green is fine too, all the others use it." He finishes his glass and Eheeya needs to turn to make sure they don't see Eury in the corner by the bar. Man this feels like one hell of a dream. If it wasn't for that healing spell he'd be sure he was about to wake up. "Thanks… Ci— ciierrr— Say uh, you mind Cici?"

She blinks in surprised at that.

"That's quite fine."

"Groovy." He lets out a long breath, and his mind idly toys with ideas of how to go about thanking her for all this. Even if it was because Eury asked her to— between the two of them he had a lot of making up to do.

"Heya, Cici?"

"Hm?"

"Well?" Wuk Lamat snaps again. "Here to say you told me so? That I couldn't protect this city and you were right?!" Her voice cracks and a sob punctuates her breath. Wuk Lamat is still shaking the woman in her lap in hopes that she will wake despite the hole in her chest.

"Of course not." It takes effort to keep her own voice even, but if Ciardha has learned a single skill in her years it is how to swallow her own emotion. "Never would I wish harm on you, on this city or these people."

"You said I couldn't do it!"

"Because no one can."

Wuk Lamat wanted to build a nation free of suffering, and Ciardha could not bear to watch her shatter under the weight of something impossible. That dream was as dead as the body in her arms.

"Because I'm too weak!"

"That is not true!"

"Then what?" Wuk Lamat's truculence is Ciardha's only comfort; she is too fragile and cracking further with each moment. This defiance is the only thing holding her together.

"I said that you could not create a nation without suffering. Not because you are too weak to accomplish it, but because suffering is not something any can control much less prevent. You cannot foresee every possibility, account for every outcome and to hold yourself to such will destroy you."

Ciardha knows this better than most, she has been riddled with cracks and fit to burst, she has shattered entirely and glued the shards of herself back together in shapes she does not quite recognize anymore.

"So you're saying its all pointless? That lives like these are meaningless? I wont' accept that! I can't!"

"That isn't what I am saying, not at all." Ciardha steps through the lap of waves and crouches down before the pair surrounded by icy waters. Her hand reaches up and gently closes the woman's lids. "Such cruelties are wrong, and they shouldn't happen, even though at times they will all the same. What matters now is not that it did happen."

She looks Wuk Lamat straight in the eye.

"What matters is what you will do about it now that is has. What will you do now, Wuk Lamat?"

Wuk Lamat's shoulders slump, and the tears that she has been fighting flow freely down her cheeks. Ciardha does not press her for the answer, she breathes in the silence and the weight of her mourning and lets the moment expand as it must. Too much has been lost this day for so bright a heart not to shed tears for it.

It is several long moments before the body is laid gently down in the sand, before Wuk Lamat brushes at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and she draws a shaky breath.

"I thought I told you to call me Lamaty'i."

"I did not think I still had that right," Ciardha answers quietly. They did not part with kind words, and Ciardha does not blame her for it. "I was under the impression you did not wish to see me again."

"So why did you come back?"

"It is as I said, I would not abandon this city or these people. Not while there was something I might do to help. I cannot carve suffering from his world, but with more shoulders does its weight become more bearable."

"That's what you were trying to tell me, before."

Ciardha nods once.

"I'm sorry. I was so angry, I didn't listen."

"I did not explain myself well; I've never been particularly good at it." Ciardha shakes her head. "I knew some people once, who wished to create a world free of suffering more than anything. It destroyed them and in the end they wound up hurting more people than they helped. I did not wish to see the same thing befall you. To wish your people well does you good, it is why they follow you so readily, but you must not blind to the challenges and be ready to face them alongside those very people when it demands it of you."

"You're going to start sounding like the Head of Reason soon." Wuk Lamat sniffles. "Right!" She stands with more vigour than she feels, even Ciardha can tell as much. "There are a lot of people that still need help, and… I need to find her family."

"I'll take care of that."

"No— let me," Wuk Lamat insists. "I was with her when it happened, so I should be the one to tell them. If you could go see who else needs help…"

"Of course, I should be glad to, Wuk Lamat."

"Please. I still think of you as family so…."

Ciardha's eyes go briefly wide.

Shaaloni's dry heat sticks at the back of Ciardha's throat with the same grit as the gravel beneath her boots. She already walks with some trepidation, Wuk Lamat's anger and dismissal have placed a damper upon her for Erenville's homecoming journey. She knows he is too astute not to have noticed, but Erenville is kind enough to say nothing on the matter. He guides her with the same earnestness that saw them through the rite of succession and by the time they have reached Hhusatahwi, Ciardha has managed to find her stride.

Dust hangs in the air of this place, but it does not feel stale. The wind blows through and brings an ever changing flow of people. Commotion in the streets is just as quickly swept away by its flow, and Ciardha is quick to discover she and Erenville are not the first travellers to be blown in.

There was a time Estinien's voice would not have surprised her, when it was so ingrained in her surroundings it was as expected to her ears as her own. The rough edge of his tones are born of the neck wounds that never fully healed in Nidhogg's wake and it make her eyes go briefly wide. It has not been so long, but already has she forgotten the texture of it, the nuances that her memories sanded smooth.

"Estinien. We did not expect to see you here." Erenville is the one to speak first.

Estinien stands in the shade of the town's small tavern, the lingering scent of ale and local spices still cling to him. Ciardha studies his face, his expression. She cannot say what it is she seeks there; the crease of worry in his brow, the lines at the edge of his lips when he is troubled, the distant ache of loneliness behind blue eyes. She finds none of these.

He looks happy. His entire posture is at ease, his face and voice are bright as he gives an answer to Erenville that Ciardha only barely registers. There is relief in this, that he is well. Barring the brief crossing of their paths in Tulioyollal at the palace, she has not seen him in months. Not since he departed Radz-at Han and never looked back.

Hope kindles into eagerness; it has been so long since they have spoken at any length. A moment such as this one, with no pressing concerns demanding of them, perhaps she can hear of his adventures. They can sit at the tavern and share a dish and speak of all they've experienced. She is so eager to know what has left him with such an easy smile upon his lips.

"Well then— I'll be seeing you."

Estinien's words halt the suggestion upon her lips; the words clot in her throat and choke the air from her. She wants to tell him to wait— does he not want to speak? To spend some time before their journeys diverge once more? They've barely exchanged pleasantries, much less said anything of meaning. Estinien's shadow casts over her as he walks by; she catches his eye and there is no malice there.

But neither is there regret.

Ciardha only barely stammers a farewell through the shock of it, and the world silences in his sudden absence. The rustle of the town becomes a dull and distant thing and her own thoughts become fuzzy and disjointed. The harshness of it settles over her, and Ciardha thinks briefly it would have been easier to manage if he'd simply hit her instead. At least that was easier to decipher, and would not scorch her chest so.

"Is everything aright?" Erenville's worried tones work through the harried fog of her mind and she swallows the lump still fermenting in her throat. It sits in her gut like bile, and any lingering thoughts of eating at the tavern are immediately dismissed.

"Yes, of course." Ciardha finds her misplaced smile and brushes some dust from her skirt. It is not truly clinging so badly, but the motion helps her centre herself. She is here for Erenville, to see these new places as he guides her to his own homeland.

"You're certain? I confess, I did not think he would depart so quickly."

"He has his own path he is following." Ciardha shakes her head. "He seemed happy, happier than I can recall him looking in a very long time. That is all I can ask."

That was right… as long as he was happy, that is all that mattered. That is all she ever wanted for him. Perhaps it is she that is the selfish one, to think that happiness involved her in some way.

"Forgive me but… I was under the impression you two were closer than that."

So did she.

"Our paths will cross again." It is the only answer that Ciardha can give. It is neither the first nor the last time she will smile through a bleeding heart.

Ciardha flinches at how easily he says it. It is no secret that Emperor Solus's days are numbered. The factions within the capital are already moving as if his last breath has been taken; most siding behind Varis or Nerva. If none are named successor, it will undoubtedly come to war. She cares not for any of it, does not care who will rule in her lord's stead. Her duty and her loyalty are to him alone.

"Oh, don't give me that." Lord Solus frees a hand from his covers and waves his hand dismissively as though it might sweep away her worry. It doesn't; and the weakness in the familiar gesture only further tightens the vice in her chest. "You're hardly unused to death."

He is not wrong, of course. He has asked it much of her, and she has claimed a great number of lives in her time in Garlemald. The Emperor had no shortage of enemies. But their ends were a swift thing, a brief clash of weapons that ended with their blood at Ciardha's feet. This… Lord Solus' end has been a slow crawl of weakness, a decay that claims a little more of him each day. It has been weeks since he had the strength to rise from his bed and even Garlemald's best physicians say there is no more to be done. Time is an enemy none can conquer, not even he.

"It is as you say, my lord." Her own voice feels too loud in the space. Lord Solus lets out the same familiar sigh he ever gives at her obedience, as if it frustrates him somehow.

"Go get some sleep. I'm not dying just yet."

"I would prefer to remain all the same."

How strange the fates are, to echo this standoff between them from their earliest days amidst their last.

"Stay any longer and I'm going to put you to work."

"That is not much encouragement to leave, my lord."

A bemused huff.

"Have you been paying attention these past few weeks?"

The question rattle out of his lungs with the cough that has made itself at home in his chest. Of course, she has. In the quiet moments with no other about, Lord Solus has taken to telling her stories. He always called them the olden days, but then would spin tales of golden cities and spiralling buildings, of peoples with great magics of creation who lived lives of peace an prosperity. Ciardha drank in each word, enraptured by this place he envisioned. He spoke of it so warmly, so earnestly that the images of it were vivid and clear in her mind as if she had walked these streets herself.

"To every word, my lord."

"Good." He rustles under the heaping mound of blankets. "Then tonight, I want you to tell me a story."

"I am afraid I have few tales that would be of interest to you, Lord Solus."

"I don't care what it is; make it up if you have to." Another cough rattles its way out. "Just… tell me your story of the olden days."

He would have her create a similar tale? Ciardha's mind spins at the possibilities all so numerous that they swarm her mind at once. She knows the city of Amaurot, and she recalls the many figures in the tales that Lord Solus has spun. The playful Hythlodaeus, chief of the bureau of the architect, the wise leaders amidst the convocation, the enigmatic Azem that ever appeared bringing trouble and aid in equal measures, and the pragmatic Emet-Selch who tried to echo reason and yet got swept up in trouble he claimed to loathe but so clearly loved…

"Very well." Ciardha nods softly.

Their stage was Amaurot and the possibilities should be overwhelming, should be impossible to know where to begin. She has not slept properly in days and yet on this matter alone her thoughts are sharp and clear and come so easily.

The words spill from her lips before she's even properly considered them. Azem is the easiest of the figures for her to consider and she weaves a tale of their return to Amaurot. She can see the images in her mind so clearly it is as though she had lived them herself. The trees lining the roads had only just begun to bloom, painting splashes of violet against the pale golden sunrise. Their scent is subtle but pleasant and her steps carry her home. Ciardha feels the cool morning air against her skin, hears so distinctly each voice that speaks with them along the way.

She never has to consider the details as the story comes together, everything falls into place as logically as fact, from the village Azem had visited to the creatures they had slain and the items they brought back to Hythlodaeus's delight. The manner Emet-Selch chided them for their recklessness reminded her fondly of Lord Solus and perhaps she has lifted too much inspiration from him in doing so. Yet Ciardha never questions any of it even as the last moment fades away.

Silence fills the wake of her voice, her own throat nearly hoarse for how long she'd been talking. Beyond the window Ciardha can see the first hints of dawn upon the horizon; it had been over an hour at least that she'd been lost in her tale. Never has she told a story that she has felt so vividly before, and for all that it has felt right in her heart, each beat of silence begins to fill her with uncertainty.

"Why did you pick that one?" Lord Solus finally speaks after several long moments.

"I cannot say… it simply came to mind, that is all." Ciardha shakes her head. "Did it displease?"

She would needs consider it better; she cannot abide disappointing him.

"No." Lord Solus's voice is muted; there is more he wishes to say but he will no say it. "You did well. I enjoyed your tale, even if it was a bit over-sympathetic to Azem's antics." Something about this amuses him, and it warms her in a way she cannot wholly explain.

She is drawn to Azem the most, in these tales; something about them calls to her. She loved the stories Lord Solus told about them the most. Perhaps it is little surprise then that her story catered to them so.

"I will consider this."

"After you've slept." Lord Solus chides. "An order, this time."

Ciardha lets out a sigh, but she will not disobey.

"As my lord wishes."

"Go sleep, and then tonight I will have you tell me another. I expect it to be better than the last."

Something about this notion sparks inside of her. She wants to explore it more, this world Lord Solus has crafted; to be given further leave to do so is a comfort Ciardha did not realize she so desperately needed.

Not only to tell another story, but knowing that Lord Solus would still be here to hear it.

"Then I shall return after some rest."

"Not before evening or I'll have to locked out."

It's easier to be reckless when you run alone, and Eury already has the reputation for it. One of few hunters that never works in a squadron, and nearly unique in their refusal to accept a palico to assist them. It isn't that Eury had anything against the felynes. They're fond of them; maybe too much so. The thought of putting them in danger just doesn't sit right with Eury. They know they are reckless, they know they are the kind to look this weather in the eye and think that if they can't see, neither can their mark. They won't ask someone else to risk their neck over it.

A crash in the brush stands out against the beat of the thunder and Eury slows their already careful steps. They finger the first of their blades and slide it soundlessly from its holster, place one step then another on the only solid patch of ground above the rising water line and peer around the trees.

They might as well have crashed through the brush.

The Mizutsune is in a frenzy, oblivious to anything other than the scrambling shape darting from its snapping jaws. This rain already has it amped up, and this particular beast has been reported multiple times for unusual aggression in a territory it doesn't normally dwell in. The guild ordered it taken in for study and put a pretty penny on its head to boot. With prey in sight this leviathan is a blur of sharp claws and gnashing teeth.

Eury weighs their options; attacking it now is a terrible idea. The adrenaline of the hunt will make it faster, and the threat to its meal, more dangerous. Better to let it catch whatever unfortunate monster caught its eye and then attack while it is busy feeding. They reach for their second blade and watch, search for any weaknesses, any lingering injuries from an old turf war they can use against it, confident in their plan.

Until the thing that it is chasing screams.

It isn't hunting a monster at all! Eury leaps forward into a surging wave of water kicked up by the Mizutsune's tail. Their first sword finds its flank and the second wedges into the tender nook between gut and hind leg and the leviathian shrills and snaps backwards. Eury narrowly swings beneath it. They hold their breath as they submerge briefly, reaching out to wrap a hand around whatever this thing is trying to eat and come up with a fistful of wet fur and a sopping coughing mess.

"What the hell are you doing?!" A voice only barely rises above the pounding of the rain. Eury has no time to question who before the Mizutsune lashes back around and swipes at them with its claws. The water makes it hard to leap backwards out of range and Eury bites down hard when it catches their forearm.

"How dare you!" The voice calls again, indignant from somewhere to their left. A shock pod hits the Mizutsune, the numbing tendrils swarm the beast but jump just as readily to Eury who pushes further back with the ammo's numbing nipping quite literally at their ankles.

"This is my hunt!"

Another hunter? Not impossible; but when two hunters end up on the same hunt it's an unspoken rule of the guild to cooperate. After all, it's subduing the monster that matters; hunters aren't in it for he glory. Whoever this was doesn't seem to have that in mind.

Eury has a better fix on their position from the voice and the shot; lurking at their 8, from somewhere up in the trees. Must be a long ranged specialist. All the more reason they should see the advantage of working together with someone who favoured the short.

Stupid. That's for sure.

"Return my bait and get lost!" The man screams over the roaring of the beast that lunges towards Eury. They pull back from the water and duck through the brush, coming around the tree their mysterious new 'friend' seemed to be dwelling in. Maybe they have a few more of those shock rounds. If they do they don't seem inclined to use them to help Eury out.

Another fitful cough from their grip. Wait… bait? The lump in their arms is shaking, caked with mud and something warm enough to know it's bleeding. They spare enough of a look down to see the triangular ears amidst the mess of fur.

"You used your palico as bait?"

Euryphaessa's rage roars so loudly they miss whatever answer this man might have made. Theyve heard of hunters that are less than honourable, working well below board to catch a hunt by any means, but this? Felynes aren't some animals, and palicos aren't tools! They're as much a hunter as their partner—! They celebrate successes and trudge through the challenges same as any; they work harder than most to make hunts as smooth as possible and Eury doesn't need a partner of their own to understand how much they value their hunters.

Eury presses their back against the tree and hopes the pounding rain will dull the scent of theirs and the felyne's blood. As much as they need to trap this thing, each passing second tells them that if they don't get this felyne somewhere warm and safe soon then it isn't going to make it. They reach down at their feet and pull out a large stone from the mud.

"Fine!" Eury shouts loudly enough to be heard; by both the hunter and the hunted. "You want this thing? It's all yours!"

They pitch the stone up into the tree, slamming it into the branch with a heavy crunch. It creaks under the weight of the hunter balanced upon it before crashing down and sending both into the swamp with a loud splash. The Mizutsune rushes towards the sound and Eury doesn't stay long enough to see who resurfaces.

*****

The small cave is a poor shelter from the rain but with the way this little one had been shaking Eury knew they weren't making it back to camp. Everything here is too wet to start a proper fire but they pull out their portable grill and fire it up with the last of their fuel. The small flame is enough to see through the shadows and keep the worst of the chill at bay. They fill their pot with the cleanest water they can find and set it to heating.

It's probably lucky the poor thing is unconscious; as gentle as Eury tries to be, the mud clings and they keep finding more blood than they care for. After the better part of an hour they're only just learning that their friend's coat is actually white and between the last of their potions and some clever bandaging its finally staying that way.

Eury lets out a long breath and plops themselves down on the ground; they are soaked to the bone, a little more wet is hardly going to hurt them at this point. More importantly the felyne has stopped shaking and seems to be resting more soundly. They hadn't given much thought as to what comes next. If the little shitface out there survived his encounter, he wasn't going to survive the coals the guild was going to rake him over after Eury reported all this. But what about his palico? Eury can't imagine the felyne will want much to do with hunting after being put through all that.

Eury places fresh water on the grill and lets the roil of the boiling pot fill the space for several long moments. They drain some carefully into a cup and with a few fresh herbs they'd picked they can breath in the fresh aroma of chamomile. Tea is never quite as good as their coffee of choice, but it is easier to put together on the fly. The pounding of the rain is making no show of letting up soon, so it seems like they are in for the night.

They are halfway through their cup before Eury feels something distinctly off. The rhythm of the night has shifted despite the still steady rumble of thunder in the distance and the patter of the rain. They've nearly scanned the entire cavern before they notice that the even breathing across from them has quieted and they look over to see the young felyne staring back at them.

"You're awake." Eury nods to her, offering a smile they hope will convey they mean less harm than their former partner.

"What happened?" Her voice is soft. The question is as careful as her pace towards the heat of the portable grill. She's a lovely thing, even still damp and bandaged. Her left eye is grey and dull but the one with light remaining is vibrant as she looks to them in confusion. Despite not having the faintest clue where she is or who they are, she maintains a poise through what must surely be panic.

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me," Eury answers. "Though I think I understand the gist of it, I'd like to be certain all the same."

This immediately averts her gaze and she turns suddenly enough that she flinches with the pain its caused her.

"Careful now, those woulds are still fresh and hardly expertly tended. You're lucky you didn't get hit with its bubbles, if that gets into a wound you'd not be moving for weeks."

"Thank you… you were the one who saved me, right?"

"Something like that," Eury shrugs and offers another smile. "I'll get you back to camp once the weather improves. As it is you were nearly hypothermic from all that water."

"I can't go back to camp, not alone." She fervently shakes her head.

She couldn't be worried about that man…

"Because you're not with your partner?"

She nods.

"I cannot fail him, I promised. I promised if he would accept me I would do anything he needed, I would help him become the best hunter. Whatever it took."

"Even using you as bait?" Eury's expression darkened.

"No— he wouldn't. he asked me to wait there, that it was important I keep watch for any signs of the beast. I promised I wouldn't move until he told me to."

"And did he give you this to hold, while you did?" Eury holds up a small satchel they'd untangled from her while fleeing.

"Yes! He sad it was very important, that I daren't lose it! You found it!" She reaches fro the small leather bag but Eury pulls it back out of her reach.

"I emptied it while we ran; it was filled to the brim with ground female Mizutsune scales, the kind of pheromones that thing gave off would draw any beast within a half mile radius." They set the empty sack down next to her.

There was no question, what rattled Eury more was how ardently she seemed to want to defend him. Why? Why would she stand up for someone like that when Eury found a host of bruises on her that could never have come from a monster, at least not the kind that they were allowed to hunt.

"Even so."

Eury lets out a breath. "Fact of the matter is, treating you like that? Using you as bait, even unintentionally—" It wasn't. Eury was sure of that much. "That's against guild rules, he'll be stripped of privileges at best."

"I failed him…"

"No, he failed you."

Eury swaps the pot of water on the grill for the pan in their bag and tosses a few rations into the bottom. The sizzle of meat overtakes the silence; Eury spares any fixings on the meal, they're in short supply as it is and they don't want to be cooking too long lest they attract more trouble.

"Then what will become of me?" The question comes as Eury carefully turns over the meat.

"I never asked your name."

"Ciardha."

"Well Ciardha, for you after this, it's whatever you want. No one would blame you if you walked away from hunting after being treated so badly."

"No!" She shakes her head with more vigour than Eury has seen from her since waking. "I want to serve a hunter, I've trained for it my entire life. Both my parents work for hunters and I've always wanted to be a good palico just as they are. I've trained and studied and practiced. More thatn anything I want to! I must."

Well colour them surprised. She was reslient, they'd give her that. Eury wasn't sure they'd want to keep hunting if someone had treated them like that when they'd first started, but then again… the call of the wilds, the thrill of the hunt, the way it all swelled inside them from each step they took outside of a camp… maybe they weren't so different after all.

"Then, they'll find you another partner, a better one."

Ciardha blinks once, then twice, then as if noticing something for the first time she slowly cranes her head around.

"Are… you a hunter?"

"Sure am."

"Do you not have a palico?"

"No," Eury shakes their head. "The kinds of hunts I do are more dangerous than most, and I don't work well with other hunters. I've always gone it alone. I know that ups the risk so I won't ask anyone to take that risk with me."

"Doesn't that… get lonely?"

"Sometimes, but I have my reasons." Eury sticks the first piece of meat with their dagger and shifts it into their now empty mug before passing it over to Ciardha. "It works for me, most of the time. Now here, you should have something to eat. Sorry I don't have much in the way of proper dishes."

Despite her poise, her expression alights at the scent of the grilled meat and she takes a mouthful, then another. Eury watches, finding relief in the spark of eagerness left in her. She'd do just fine, and under the right hunter, she will flourish.

Eury scoops their own meal out of the pan and snags a bite right off the dagger.

A voice he doesn't know douses him with icy water and Eheeya jolts upright. It takes several seconds for the dark room to focus and yet another to find who had spoken. No one should be here after hours; the barkeep always made sure not to let anyone in. But they are no where to be seen and a stranger sits at the bar with a glass.

They've the look of a Shetona that never hit puberty, except they haven't the ears for it. He can't make out if its a dude or a lady that's watching him from their seat and he's not sure which would be the most trouble. He's certainly gotten into some with both, but since becoming a fighter at the Arcadion, most didn't push him too far.

"It's a shame you missed it," Eheeya pulls up the lingering dregs of Dancing Green from his depths. "I didn't see your dazzling face on the dance floor, and I remember all of my stars." He fires his finger at the stranger with a wink. "You're too late to catch more tonight though. Better be off until the next big party."

"I didn't come for the party." The stranger shakes their head; it makes the violet streaks in their hair gleam in the bar's backlight. Eheeya drapes his arm against the sofa's back, twisting enough to get a proper look at this person. If he'd been less tired he'd have already guessed that. Person was dressed in the sort of thing you didn't see around Solution Nine or even about the Outskirts. The dusty violet jacket spoke of a more distant land that he's heard stories from but never bothered to learn more about. They trace the rim of their glass rather than drink from it; watch him with the same amused look in their eye that his mother did when she knew he'd gotten into trouble but hadn't told her yet.

"What brings you all the way down here if not to party?"

"Nothing noteworthy, just looking for a place to pass the hours."

They slide off their stool and the echo of their steps throbs against his head. He's sure he kept his eye on them but the click of a glass on the table in front of him jars him back into the moment. He hadn't had that much to drink tonight… had he?

"Buying me drinks already?"

"Don't worry, its just water. Even the famous Dancing Green is going to wake up hungover without it."

Something about that startles him. The roar of the party always demanded; the roar of its life was fed with bad decisions and people wanting to watch them being made. The chorus in his ear was always the same. More. More. More. People brought him mugs to chug; no one cared about the aftermath.

"Thanks." Eheeya takes the glass, staring into it a moment. Looks clean, doesn't smell funny. This might just be one more bad decision to cap off the night but he throws it back in a single swig. It's fresh and cold in a way the water from the pipes here rarely is. It's the best he's had all night. "You drinking the same?"

The strangers lips curl into a grin.

"Guilty as charged." They sit down on the opposite end of the couch and take a drink from their glass. Something about the way they lean forward over it, the way they keep staring into the cup like it has all the answers in the world, it's like he found a mirror.

"So what are you really doing here?" Eheeya lets Dancing Green's charisma fall away from his lips. His voice feels hoarse and unpracticed without it.

"I was hoping to meet you."

"You came at a terrible time for that."

"I came at the perfect time, I think."

What were they talking about? A closed bar with the lights out, electrope buzzing the only song to be had, a stillness in the space he would never allow to take over his dance floor… this was the polar opposite of everything he was. "This isn't like me at all."

"And yet, here we are." The stranger glances their way, then glances down at his glass on the table. He was sure he'd emptied it, but its sitting there with half its contents still gleaming.

"Here we are." He reaches for it and empties it for real this time. The way the cold trickles down his throat shakes away the haze of the night. Moments blurred into each other until they were unrecognizable, but this one, as strange and dreamlike as it seemed, was clear as the liquid in his glass. "Pathetic, ain't it?"

"Is it?" They turn the question back at him. "I'm not so certain. Yet if you think so, why do it?"

They say it so simply, there's no judging there just a genuine question. If someone had asked at the start of the night he'd have danced them wrong until the sun rose, but in this forgotten moment he can't find the gusto.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm Dancing Green! They party never ends when I'm around. People who come here… they're all looking to get away from something. Life's not easy in this place, but for a few hours they can dance and they can forget it all. Nothing matters but the lights, the music and the dance floor."

He still remembers the very first night he'd come to a place like this. How bright and dazzling it had been, the thrill of just moving to the music and losing himself in it. The way the memory of it had carried him for weeks, months, years afterwards. The dance floor took his heart and never gave it back and even bone tired and ready to collapse, that single truth has never changed.

If he can give even one person that same thing then… that's all that mattered.

"So you do it for them." The stranger doesn't even bother asking, and somehow Eheeya thinks its an answer they've known all too intimately.

"Yeah, of course. You can't party it up out there by yourself. If you don't bring a bit of fun and joy to others then what's the point?"

The stranger thinks on that, but they know it already. He can tell by the quiet smile at their lips, the way they are staring at the table and seeing a world a malm away. "You know that life, don't you?"

"All too well." They nod.

"Euryphaessa." They offer after a beat of silence. "But its far too cumbersome, so call me Eury if you wish."

"Eury, huh." It was definitely not an Alexandrian name, but he likes the sound of it all the same. "Eheeya, but Dancing Green to most. You really should come earlier next time. I'd love to see you dance."

"I'll consider it." They chuckle to themselves. Eheeya wonders what they'll be like when that day comes. Something tells him that, like himself, they're going to find a completely different person outside the quiet sanctuary of this moment.

"Why do you do it?" Eheeya tosses back at them.

"Because that is what others expect, what they need of me," Eury says quietly. "I should hate to disappoint them."

The refrain repeats and the song goes on.

"To those who need it then." Eheeya answers.

"I'll drink to that." They raise their glass to him and Eheeya looks to his own.