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

Life, Iskra had read in some ancient scroll, was about change-- an endless metamorphosis, really, with no way to tell what your final evolution would look like. And, traditionally? Traditionally, the pirate had disagreed with the notion. (Her own path, you see, had been carved for her long before she'd been born. ...Iskra, they'd called her, and from that label, everything sprang. A 'spark' may have sounded pretty, poetic, even, but where did fire arise from, if not from sparks? From those fiery embryos, so deceptive in their beauty? And, oh, had she done that name justice! Everything, everything the captain had burned, and then danced on the ashes. ...even now they clung to her shoes, no matter how many times she cleaned them. The footsteps she left behind pointed to her as a culprit-- marked her as the filthy one, as the spreader of death and decay. A queenkiller, the one who had turned her sword against the very person she was meant to protect! How did you commit such an act, without staining your own soul in return? ...you didn't, plain and simple. Didn't, didn't, didn't!)

The will of the stars, however, was a mysterious thing, and so Iskra had found herself swept up in a whirlwind of change-- one after another, really, powerful enough that she could barely stand. (For years, she had kinda felt like a toddler, you know? A toddler who could kill you in ninety different ways, perhaps, but whose steps were no less shaky, no less unstable, than those of her peers. Where was she heading? How to reach that goal? And, most importantly, why was she doing this at all? Behind her facade of a fearless leader, crafted specifically to seem trustworthy, the pirate had had no idea. Lost and blind she'd been, like a fool who stared into the sun! As the time marched on, however, she had gotten wiser-- well, that, or at least better at pretending. Simply put, few things surprised her anymore. ...aside from, you see, most words that fell from the princess's lips, and by 'most', Iskra meant 'all of them'.)

Aren't weddings supposed to be fun? she thought, bitterly, upon being dragged to yet another pointless shopping trip. And why is wine needed to convince the stars of their love, anyway? Had Iskra been a bit more distrustful in nature, she would have come to the conclusion that Verity had fed her a bunch of pretty phrases-- that the real purpose behind this celebration, in fact, was to get everyone drunk under a pretext more noble than the usual 'hey man, my throat is parched.' But, of course, the pirate would never suspect Verity of such a thing! ...and her desire to avoid yet another pointless conversation in which the princess would try to convince her why this was essential, actually, was only about 30% of why she thought so. It'll be fine, Iskra told herself. Just smile and nod, and go with whatever she chooses. The princess, after all, understood the intricacies of wedding planning on a level so deep she could only dream about it-- arguing with her would have been as silly as trying to teach a fish how to swim, really. No, instead of indulging in such foolishness, Iskra would enjoy the beautiful day! The sun was shining, the air carried the smells of various spices, and if she listened hard enough, the pirate could hear...

...Verity threatening someone? Wait, what?! And, if Iskra heard correctly, then the context was... Oh, by the Shade. All the color drained from her face, indeed, when she realized the implications! You know, the implications of the princess losing her sword in a bet. (Would she gamble with her child's life, too? Because risking the loss of your weapon, the one thing that stood between you and your death, was just about as wise! On some level, the relationship was even more sacred, perhaps, and-- and--)

Iskra could have written a book or two about the true extent of Verity's treachery, but time didn't stop to accommodate her ruminations, and the situation quickly evolved into something that, uh... demanded her intervention, let's say. Oh no, you don't. Nobody touches Verity and lives! From behind, the pirate grabbed Cressida's hand, and twisted it. (The sound it made? A satisfying crack, which was a symphony to her ears!)

Needless to say, Cressida dropped her dagger. "Aaah! You-- you crazy bitch,"

"The name's Iskra," the captain supplied, oh so helpfully. With her free hand, she helped Verity stand up, and with the other? Well, she used it to bend the broken bone some more. "Now, will you be so kind as to give Verity her sword? I am sentimental, I admit, but I simply hate the idea of a weapon being separated from her wielder. It is a cruel, cruel thing to do."

"I-- I don't have it, I swear!" Cressida cried. "Like, you can't expect me to just carry it around in my pocket, especially after all those months. Let go of me, you brute!"

Hmm. Could she be lying? Pain was a powerful truth serum, so probably not, but even so-- this information was hardly helpful. "Where is it, then? Speak. Speak, and I shall let you go."

"...even if you don't like the answer?"

"Try and see."

"Fine," Cressida huffed, tears of pain in her eyes, "I buried it, okay? To please Neareida, the great water goddess. She asked for a sacrifice, so I provided it. Never, ever will you retrieve it! Powerful spirits guard it now, oh, they do, and they won't let you steal it. Oh no, no, no. If you know what's good for you," she spat out, "you'll let it go. You weren't worthy of such a weapon, anyway, now were you, princess? 'Cause if you had deserved it, you wouldn't have lost it in such a way. It was fate itself that declared you unfit! A pattern you must be very familiar with, considering... well, pretty much every major event in your life. No offense, though."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Apparently, old habits die hard as Verity once more finds herself in a rather unforgiving position thanks to yet another one of her outbursts. Though she doesn't really blame herself for her actions, if only because this is a matter of her sword. The one she lost nearly a year ago. Cressida isn't lying when she says that Verity lost the sword in a bet and as careless as that is it hadn't been without reason. The princess would like to say it was a good reason too, but the Regret had hit her quicker than light when the older woman swept Gwenwyn from the pot. She still remembers how her gut twisted while she could only stand and watch; she knew she would never forgive herself for losing the only piece she had to remember the craftswoman who had fashioned it for her. A friend who she had lost. Though, that is also partly why she had risked parting with the piece in the first place, figuring it would be easier to move forward without the reminder of her friend on her hip. (Alcohol, unsurprisingly, had also been involved with this decision.) So now, with such a rare opportunity in front of her to recover Gwenwyn, her body reacted before she could even determine her actual chances at success. She realizes, too, how foolish it had been to run off without the pirate as it occurs to her that she's now alone in some alley with a dagger pressed to her neck. Even a mere swallow threatens to cut her own skin.

The princess remains still as she stares her opponent directly in the eye, not ready to accept her obvious defeat. (Surely, Verity's obstinance will be the Death of her.) Her lip curls in a sneer, rapidly homing in on how she will worsen her situation––

––And then, Divine intervention. Well, Iskra, but perhaps the Divinities led her to the princess at just this moment to save her––for she had been seconds away from unleashing such venom it would have been an invitation for Cressida's blade. "Many thanks, Iskra," Verity breathes as she hoists herself from the ground and winces at the sound of the other woman's cracking bones. She might have thought it serves her right, but the princess knows it had been herself who started this entire altercation. In that, she sees how it's not entirely fair and yet... she decides against stopping the captain from causing the other woman Pain. Anything to get her sword back.

As she picks up the woman's discarded dagger and tucks it into her belt, her ears perk when she hears just where her Gwenwyn is, but it's Cressida's last remarks that actually stun the princess. So much so, Time herself must stop. A cold chill washes over the princess as she lifts her head to meet the older woman's eye, her gaze sharp enough to pierce. "You will shut your filthy mouth and speak not of my worthiness! The slight against my weapon is my burden, and it does not make me unworthy for you haven’t a clue of what you’re speaking of. However, you, Cressida, I know had to resort to appeasing your gods with a fallen princess's sword––so I take your debts with them are still high."

"The sword squared my debts, actually, princess," she huffs, trying to pry Iskra's fingers from her hand, "It was an impressive piece. I truly had never seen anything like it before, and I'm not surprised a princess wouldn't know how to treasure Beauty like that, airheaded as you all ar––"

In that moment, Verity decides she has had enough of hearing of her own faults and mistakes and her sharp hand collides with the woman's cheek. (It’s not that she cannot accept them or refuses to learn from them, but when spoken about in such bad faith from a woman who only knew her for a few nights she sees no reason to tolerate such disrespect. Still, perhaps a slap is a bit much.) “My apologies, Cressida, but you only know half my story. Most of which you gathered from the press. Now if you do not tell me where my sword is located, I cannot say whether you will leave this alleyway with your hand still attached to your body.”

“F-fine, fine—fucking princesses,” she mutters, “I buried it beneath the waterfalls on the crescent moon, but the spirits aren’t just going to let you take it just because her royal highness commands it. You’re mad if you think otherwise—”

Whatever else Cressida has to say is promptly ignored by the princess once she has the information she has been seeking. With a pleased smile, she turns to her companion, “I believe that is all we need from the countess, Iskra. Shall we head to the falls? I do believe we can spare a moment from wedding preparations to negotiate with these spirits.”

Once they’re a ways away from Cressida and the market, Verity wastes no Time in choosing the topic of conversation––certainly not to discuss how exactly her sword fell into another's hands. No, she doesn't think Iskra would be very interested in that at all. However, what she does think might interest her? “I’ve been so caught up in the details of this wedding I have completely forgotten about our sparring lessons... should you like to continue them? I do believe if we’re successful retrieving my sword, you may want to see what I’m like when I have my own steel in my hands.” As she talks, she makes strikes through the air as if she had a blade in her hand then she lightly taps Iskra’s shoulder and reaches to hold her hand.
 
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Oh, by the Shade! Could the two of them not enjoy a single pleasant stroll, undisturbed by the ghosts of their pasts? Iskra didn't think that was too much to ask for, but apparently, everyone else disagreed-- everyone else including, but definitely not limited to, an actual goddess. Just, wow. Needless to say, this type of plot twist wasn't what the pirate had anticipated from their innocent shopping trip! ('Expect the unexpected' was a good motto to live by, but somewhat, hmm, impractical. An empty slogan, truly. The unexpected, you see, tended to be... well, even more unexpected than previously thought. That was the entire point of that adjective, which kind of robbed the whole adage of meaning. Again, why did so many consider it to be the pinnacle of wisdom? When inspected, the advice made about as much sense as, say, 'burn that which cannot be burned' or 'eat that which cannot be eaten!' Even its grammatical structure revealed it for the fraud it was. What kind of goddess would even accept a sword as a sacrifice? the pirate thought. There were, after all, things so sacred that not even deities could touch them-- bonds purer than freshly fallen snow, indeed, and everyone, everyone knew that breaking those brought you bad luck. And, no, not even gods were exempt from that! They all lived in the same universe, in one way or another, and all were shackled by the same rules.)

"Speak no more, Cressida," Iskra recommended her, "and be glad that you are not going to lose your tongue for your insolence. You can thank that goddess of yours for that!" ...or, more precisely, the pirate's own pragmatism. No, there was no point in mutilating the woman-- as reprehensible as her actions had been, she had given them the information they'd asked for, and punishing her for that would have been counter-productive. Rumors spread faster than wildfire, you see? And if captain Iskra became known as a wretch who hurt those who cooperated with her, nobody would ever make the same mistake again. (One's reputation was a peculiar thing! Press too much, and it would shatter; press too little, and it would assume no discernible shape at all. A balancing act was what it was, but the pirate had learned to walk that particular rope years ago.) "Now, if you wish to live, forget this interaction ever happened. In fact, forget that we exist. If I ever meet you again, you see," Iskra revealed her teeth in a smile, "I may not be able to hold back. You don't want to find out what that means, do you?" ...the reality was that it meant nothing at all, but again, smoke and mirrors were important. Neglect those, and the whole galaxy would soon think you were their personal doormat!

"And, yes, of course," the captain turned back to Verity. "Let us right this wrong that has been committed against you." 'That you committed against your weapon', some part of her wanted to say, but then she decided against that. Hadn't they agreed to try to understand one another, after all? Not explicitly, perhaps, but that was what Iskra had sorta dedicated herself to, and so she swallowed her many judgments. Doubtlessly, the princess must have had her reasons! Reasons that must have been misguided, indeed, though it wasn't like you had the benefit of hindsight at your disposal when making decisions. ...Iskra herself would have done many, many things differently, had that been the case. What was it about throwing stones while living in glass houses, hmm?

"I shall be happy to help you again," the pirate nodded. "Frankly, I've missed our sessions. I can tell from your last fight with Ylna that you've grown a lot, too, so I cannot wait to see all the new tricks you've learned! But, Verity," she shot her a careful glance, "forgive me, for my curiosity will not leave me alone. How did it happen, even? Your sword falling into Cressida's clutches, I mean. I do not think you to be a shallow woman, so I don't believe you'd give up your own bonded sword for nothing at all-- did you perhaps have a good incentive?"

As they walked, the ever-present chatter of the market died down-- instead, birds' songs filled their ears, and the pirate welcomed the change. Ah, if only human speech could be half as pleasant! Many of them only spoke because they were so in love with the sound of their own voice, except that those weren't nearly as musical. Often, they resembled the scraping of nails against a blackboard, and... hmmm. Was it just her, or could she hear water in the distance? Oh yes, yes! When she looked up, you see, there they were-- the waterfalls, azure and crystal-clear, splitting over white rocks. (Plus, when you unfocused your eyes? You could see shapes dancing at the very edge of your vision, half a memory and half a premonition. The spirits, the pirate presumed.) "This must be it," Iskra said, her voice full of... what was it, even? Respect, perhaps, for while these weren't her gods, there was no doubt that they were divine in nature, indeed. (Foolish Cressida may have been, yes, but at least she worshiped no frauds! The power of this place was undeniable, you know-- a shiver ran down her spine the moment the captain entered this place, and, shockingly enough, she could also sense the Shade tremble. Just who were these spirits? What were they, really? To terrify a being this strong... oh, Iskra didn't even want to think about the implications of that.)

It didn't take long for the entities to acknowledge their presence, either. "Welcome," the grass underneath their feet whispered, and wind caressed their hair. At least they were, uh, friendly? Or it appeared that way, if nothing else. "Welcome, princess and pirate. Why have you come? Why, why, why?"
 
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♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Oh! So Iskra missed their lessons together and just what can that mean? Verity may know that the pirate has plainly admitted to missing her company when they had been apart, and while that absolutely is a symphony for her soul, their sparring lessons add an extra layer to how the pirate must regard the princess. Surely, if she didn’t like Verity so much she would have rejected the offer! She might have said that they ought to keep their interactions business forward; or that Verity was clearly in no longer need of further lessons; or, and worst of all, that she is simply not interested. But, no! She had said none of those things and now Verity’s mind gets to walk a happy path towards fantasies built on the reality of a particularly, ah, heated lesson with the pirate—though the princess’s fantasies will go much further than what had actually transpired. Before her cheeks can turn any pinker, she shoos the thoughts away. (Despite her hopes, she also acknowledges that perhaps it actually doesn’t mean that much and she is reading far more deeply into this than needed. Even so, if anything, resuming her lessons will be another reason to seek out the captain and spend Time with her. (And get close to her as well—in more ways than one if she is so lucky.))

The princess grins from ear to ear as the captain accepts her offer, though it slowly fades with her next line of inquiry. ’Ah, so she wants to know. Very well,’ she sighs. While committed to the truth, especially with the pirate, she is tempted to fabricate a story or even brush the question to the side. The shame she carries from that evening to now is a heavy blanket and calling attention to it might turn that blanket into chains and slow the princess down! But this is not about saving her own face, she realizes. This is about honesty with Iskra and honesty can be the most ugly company sometimes. She can only hope the pirate finds it in herself to withhold judgment. (Though why should she? Verity never—no, no, she cannot think of that. This is a new chapter and she must not put up her defenses so quickly! She must give the pirate an honest chance to understand her.)

“It’s no honorable tale, Iskra. I must admit that first so you know not to look to me as a hero in this story. In fact, it’s most shameful how I lost my blade,” she inhales sharply, “It had been perhaps only a week following my exile and we had stopped over on another planet to gather supplies, information, and seek out allies for our cause. Well, one of those nights we of course went drinking—as you can imagine we were all a bit on edge having had to flee from everything we knew with next to no warning in the middle of the night. Then before that, we had been fighting day and night for our country so some might have said we were shell shocked as well. Though I say all that just to paint the picture for you, Iskra, not as an excuse. Anyway, at some point during that evening I met Cressida and she invited me to her table to play cards; it was a game I had never played, but she seemed like fun so I joined. And, well,” she starts talking more rapidly as if pushing the words out faster makes her any less guilty, “I put my sword in the pot when I had nothing else to bet. I was having fun. Cressida coaxed me into it. And, to be honest... the sword brought me many unfriendly reminders of home. Ones I’d rather forget and I thought parting with the sword would help me achieve that. I was wrong, because I realized even if I want to part with those memories that I cannot dishonor the woman who made me that piece. She was a friend and she died protecting me. My Regret was immediate and so I tried to get my sword back, but when I woke up the next morning Cressida was gone and we needed to leave.”

Through her short tale, the princess’s voice has grown more quiet and her steps smaller. She refuses to look up and instead stares down at her feet while her fists are balled in the pockets of Iskra’s coat. Tension has gathered in shoulders and she hardly notices how the scenery around them has changed from the noisy market to blissful nature. She doesn’t hear the birds, bees, or waterfalls—not until the spirits acknowledge the two visitors and the princess’s attention is forced up. Though still affected by her own story, she gasps in awe as she takes in the surroundings, watching the water cascade from its peak and all the shapes that jump from the corners of her field of vision.

Quickly, the princess gets onto her knees and clasps her hands together as a show of her respect for whatever entity is speaking to them. No point in upsetting any god regardless of one's own practice. (Besides, Verity has a working theory that all divinities speak to one another and gossip. So disrespecting these spirits may as well be like disrespecting her own sages!) “Most holy being, we come to you in search for a gift that was erroneously imparted unto you.”

“Many mortals regret their sacrifices to the gods. If this is all, all, all... We shall be on our way,” the wind whispers.

“Please, hear me out—it was not a sacrifice which I had made. A blade was given to your goddess, Neareida, to please her but the blade was not for the supposed owner to sacrifice. The blade, Gwenwyn, was my own and it was... well, not stolen—“

“Is this going somewhere?” the grass asks.

“Y-yes, one moment. She wasn’t stolen but I should not have given her away either. She was made for me by a dear friend who I have since lost. When I cast my blade away I thought that—“

“I see, say no more, princess,” the rocks interrupt and the world around them goes silent. Even the waterfalls are quiet while the spirits deliberate in their silent language. At one point, the wind whips violently around them and seems to howl passionately at the boulders and grass, though neither move. (Just what are they saying! It’s killing the princess to know.) Finally, in unison, the spirits speak, “You seek the return of your sword, Gwenwyn, from Neareida, an arrangement we may be willing to entertain. Yet what do a pirate and princess, two unholy souls, two disgraced people, have to offer our great water goddess? What lengths are you willing to go in exchange for this precious gift?”
 
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"Few of them are, don't you think? Honorable, I mean. It's just that, um, well..." Oh, by the Shade! Why did picking the right words have to be so hard? Usually, they came to the pirate on their own, just like crows that flocked to the one who fed them bread, but now... now it seemed as if they were afraid of her, really. As if she was a cruel master, ready to scar their backs with a whip! "Life is too complex for that, I suppose," she finally said, her gaze downcast. "You might find easy answers in a book, where the heroine gets to choose between saving and condemning the world, but that isn't what the choices are usually like, is it? In reality, there are often multiple bad options! And, yes, one of them may look like it would lead to the least terrible outcome, but perhaps it's only true for you-- perhaps you are married to your own perspective, so you are sentencing everyone else to a fate worse than death. Have you ever thought about that, Verity?" Because Iskra had, alright. Fruitless as it had been, she'd thought and thought and thought, till pain had threatened to split her head apart-- thought about being shackled to a single body, and forced to rely on a single pair of eyes. About the limitations imposed on her, really. (The butterfly who summoned a storm with its wings never got to see the results of its recklessness, now did it? Free like the wind, it danced in the skies, ignorant of the mayhem on the other side of the world. And, similarly to the butterfly, Iskra dodged the consequences as well! Hundreds had perished in the flames she had started, and-- no. No, I cannot afford to dwell in memories now. Hadn't the pirate wasted enough time already, lost among the endless what ifs and could haves? Besides, Verity was offering her an explanation, so the least she could do was to pay attention!)

So, as the princess spoke? Iskra's eyes didn't leave her face-- instead, they seemed to be glued there, hungry for details, for the tiniest changes in her expression. What, exactly, was Verity thinking? The pirate wanted to know. (Beyond words, you see, there was a whole universe of feelings-- threads both seen and unseen, indeed, both equally important in the resulting tapestry. The things that were there could be just as important as those that happened to be curiously absent, you see? And Iskra wanted to see the princess in her entirety! All the colors, shiny and striking, but also the shadows that lurked in the forbidden corners of her mind, where the dangerous parts of her resided. Did darkness not serve make light more prominent, after all? Oh yes, yes! Only an utter buffoon would reject the whole picture for some paltry, sanitized version of itself, completely stripped of character. ...Iskra had been such a buffoon once, you see, and no, she wasn't keen on repeating that mistake. It would be unfair to both of them, really.) "Ah. I understand," the pirate said, upon hearing how it had gone down. "Well... I do believe your mishap was born of foolishness, but occasionally, all of us are allowed to be fools. What matters is your resolve to make things right. Together, we shall retrieve Gwynwen, and then... then you will treat her as she deserves, for the rest of your existence. That's how you will buy her forgiveness."

Iskra's blood almost froze in her veins when the voices addressed her, really, but quickly, she regained her composure. (So what if they were gods? A shard of the godhead slumbered within her as well, and so there was no need for her to feel humbled. No, the pirate would speak proudly, without fear! There would be no groveling, no kneeling in the dirt and no kissing their shoes-- no, no, and thousand times no. A worshiper she wasn't, so they'd be wise to not expect that sort of behavior from her. It wasn't that she meant to disrespect them, of course, but respect went both ways, and Iskra... well, Iskra had had enough of being treated like the universe's doormat.)

"You know the answer to your question already, don't you?" Iskra pointed out. "Unholy we are, yes, and thus we don't have anything to offer. Anything but our service, that is, and since you are still talking to us... well, I suppose that you do have a task in mind. Something that that only the villains of our caliber can take care of, perhaps?"

"Oooh," one of the voices giggled, "a perceptive one, aren't you? Very well. We are merciful, so we shall give you the chance to prove your worth to us, and to the great goddess as well. Listen, then, pirate and princess. Listen and learn."

"Humans may love to play their silly games," the pond whispered, anger dripping from its words, "but, my friends, we don't. A greedy woman is stealing the goddess' wealth-- she is saying that the water belongs to her, solely because she bought the land that happens to surround it. Ridiculous, isn't it? Worst of all, however, she is selling it to her sisters! Neareida meant for it to be a gift, an expression of her love, and now she has to watch as her children die of thirst. This needs to cease."

"Oh yes, it does," the rocks agreed, somehow more conciliatory but no less firm. "There are more things that need to cease, however. The goddess' most sacred well has been poisoned, and she grows weaker by the day. That is why she was not able to retaliate. We suspect the woman is involved as well, and we ask you to investigate the matters-- we would have done so on our own, but we are bound to this place. Do well enough, and your reward shall be greater than the sword alone. Do you agree, princess? Do we have a deal, pirate?"
 
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♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Unholy and disgraced. That is how these spirits have judged their souls and Verity cannot disagree with their assessment; at least not where her own is concerned. Her agreement is not just because these are spirits with abilities far beyond her own reach, but because there is truth in their words. A princess forsaken by both her ancestors and her country? Oh, it is difficult to hide such a reality. However, even if Verity can acknowledge the accuracy of the judgment cast upon them, that does not mean it is any easier for her to swallow. (Even if she can surmise they are considered unholy because of differing practices she cannot help but to think of her ancestors who do not whisper to her any longer; who have left her dreams empty; who add to the ache of loss within her chest. No amount of prayer can bring her back into their good graces, she knows this. Her ancestors would want to see action, some measurable change that shows that their descendant has learned. Unfortunately, she has not a clue how long it will take to appease them.)

While not angry with the spirits, Verity balls her hands into fists and digs her nails into her palms while the spirits challenge the two before them. Her gaze is unfocused and fixed on the grass beneath her while her mind swarms with defenses. There are many concessions that Verity wants to make to these guardians, perhaps because she believes that if the spirits see her Humility, they will see that she does have something to offer and is worthy enough to make this exchange. However, when Iskra speaks before she does, she breathes a small sigh of relief and sinks backwards, allowing the pirate to take care of their affairs. She trusts her enough to do so and, well, Verity isn't sure that she, of all people, can appease these beings.

Quietly, she listens to the exchange between that which surrounds them and her companion, finding it easier to breathe knowing that Iskra is here too. (And, more than that, that Iskra believes in her worthiness. For earlier when she had the chance to condemn the princess for the folly of her actions, she instead said, 'Yes, what you did had been unthinkable and I understand'––which is a response she did not know was possible! Even if she can imagine such dualities existing within herself, it is not something she expects from others and... and it calms her. That Iskra still stands by her side and is helping her with this task that should only be own, means more to the princess than she has the words to describe.)

Though the task they have been assigned, while Verity is more than willing to undertake such an effort, shocks her. You see, the mere concept behind commodifying water is so foreign to the princess that she nearly believes that these spirits are trying to trick them. She knows that spirits can be fickle and she imagines their long Life might make them quite bored, so it is easy for her to believe that they are trying to make fools of them both for their own amusement. But something in their collective tone strikes her as a genuine concern for their goddess and her affairs. The pond's anger in particular motivates the princess to believe them. Nodding, she replies, "Yes. Yes, you can trust in us to bring your goddess back to Health, wise guardians. We shall not disappoint."

"Very, well, princess," the wind says, "The well is located on the outskirts of the city, between two redwood guardians. Though if the guardians no longer stand, as we fear, the well can be distinguished by an iridescent shimmer and the softest lullaby––that is, if the venom has not gone too far and taken too much from the goddess."

With that in mind, the pair head off back towards the city to locate the sacred well. Though as they walk, there are a few things that Verity cannot shake from her mind. "Iskra, I must thank you for accompanying me to rectify this wrong. It is not your burden to bear and yet you still walk by my side and offer your help; this is not something I shall soon forget. Even if we are not successful, this kindness of yours... warms me, to be honest." It's not as though Halen had offered to help Verity recover her sword; no, she merely lectured Verity on her foolishness and recommended that the princess learn from her ways. Not a bad piece of advice, granted, just crueler than she had been ready for at the Time. "And how you handled the spirits after they cast their judgment upon us––I likely would still be there groveling to prove my worth and yet you were wise enough to see their challenge. Truly, I am most grateful for you," she beams at the pirate, light shining in her eyes as she loops their arms together.

"Though you know what strikes me as most odd about this plight of Neareida's?" she asks, her tone shifting to a more serious one, "I am once more reminded of the limitless nature of Greed. Just, how does one even justify selling water––as if it cannot be found freely on its own? That is as preposterous as selling... selling air. And how does one even convince a population to accept that water is not free? Do they even charge you when it rains?" Given the princess's questions? There is the implication that suggests water is a free resource in her country. "I have many, many questions for this merchant. Though I doubt I would be able to withhold my Wrath enough to ask any of them."
 
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A goddess, huh. A being older than the flow of time itself, according to some-- the primordial spark of life, really, that had set everything in motion all those aeons ago. What was there that a goddess couldn't do? Why would she need the help of an existence as wretched as she was? Iskra had foreseen that the spirits would require something of her, yes, but as for the nature of her mission... oh, she didn't even dare to imagine what that might be! (The gods of her old homeland, whose bones were resting in the soil now, might have asked her to become her champion. The pirate knew not what that entailed, though she kinda assumed bloodshed was involved, you know? Gods cared not for gold, or precious gemstones, or whatever other currency that humans had invented in their misguided efforts to quantify everything. 'One pint of ale is worth ten loaves of bread,' they wanted to be able to say, without a hint of hesitation. Which, foolish, foolish, foolish! How could you hope to measure the time that had gone into creating something, and the love that you had poured into that act? And, even if you did manage that somehow, how could you then say 'well, the fruits of my labor are inherently worthier than yours, so I deserve to live more comfortably than you do'? A monstrous way of thinking, truly-- one devised by a monster, sure, but also one that transformed you into a creature just as twisted, if you weren't paying attention. The second you started chasing after all those imaginary numbers, and let the glory of it all blind you? That was when you were lost, indeed! In that moment, your very blood turned turned into poison-- into a source of corruption, pumping more filth into the that precious lake from which everyone drank.

So, when the spirits stated their price? Similarly to the princess, Iskra, too, was utterly baffled. Just, how did these things happen? How did an ordinary person wake up one day, only to tell themselves: 'from now on, I shall be wearing the crown of the gods?' Because, essentially, that was what it was! The woman hadn't called herself a goddess explicitly, at least as far as the pirate knew, but every action of hers pointed towards such ambitions, and deeds spoke louder than words. (Seriously, think about it. What were gods, if you took away their creative powers? The ability to breathe life into that which had been barren before, and paint landscapes with their minds? The answer was simple-- they were the judges, the jury and the executioners, all in one convenient package. ...curious, truly, how humans only liked to claim that part for themselves. The hard work of creation simply wasn't as fun as deciding who got to live and who had to die, shamed and disgraced, now was it? Oh, how Iskra hated, hated, hated these frauds! With every fiber of her being, and perhaps even beyond that. No, the one who didn't sow the seeds did not deserve to reap the harvest, and Iskra? Iskra wasn't going to let this slide just because this planet technically had nothing to do with her.)

"You have my word," she promised, and bowed her head. "On my very name, I swear to you that the villain will face justice. I will not rest till it is taken care of."

"Oh," the wind chuckled, and the pirate could swear she felt her caress her cheek, "I appreciate the passion, but do rest, please. The task that is awaiting you is not a simple one, Iskra, and you shall need every ounce of energy you can spare. Is it not true, after all, that it is a soldier's duty to prepare for battle? Treating your body with kindness so that it may serve you well is a part of it as well."

That... that had never occurred Iskra before, actually. And it was such a basic lesson, too! (You had to take care of your sword if it were to remain sharp, you see, and if she was a sword as well... the analogy wrote itself, didn't it? Hmm, hmm. Food for thought, once she actually had the time to unpack it all.) "Ah?" the captain looked up when Verity attempted to drown her in praise, her cheeks downright scarlet. "Um. It's..." 'no big deal,' some part of her wished to say, but that just didn't feel right. To Verity, it was a big deal, you know? Charitably, she'd revealed the most private of her thoughts to her, and Iskra rejecting that version of reality... oh, that would be like stepping on freshly fallen snow. A picture of innocence, defiled by ugly boots! "It made me happy to do that for you," she settled on instead. "No woman should be separated from her sword, after all, so... so I couldn't simply stand by. A captain is there to guide her women, not just bark orders when it's convenient. It was within my power to help, so that's what I did. And, um," this was embarrassing, but for some reason, Iskra felt it had to be said, "it also pleased me because... because you are dear to my heart, Verity. I do not wish to see you suffer."

When the topic turned to greed, however, the pirate's lips formed a strict line. "So you think selling water is absurd, hmm? Where I'm from, we also had fees for clean air. No, I'm not joking. If you couldn't afford to pay up, your lungs bled, Verity," Iskra spat out, as if the words were too gross for her to let them stay inside of her mouth. "There were mothers who sold their own organs, too, just to ensure that their daughters' future would be just a little bit brighter! As such, no, this doesn't really shock me. Give a rotten woman a blessing, and she'll find a way to turn it into a curse aimed at her sisters. But, Verity," she turned to the princess, all her wrath suddenly gone, "your homeland must be beautiful, indeed, if you know not such horrors. What was the thing you loved the most about it?"

Hope was a rare dish these days, after all, and she wished to dine on that, rather than on despair. ...too bad that despair was exactly what they were going to get, though. The redwood guardians the spirits had talked of, for example? Their corpses lay near the well, devoid of all color. (No axe had marred their bodies, nor were there any other visible wounds, but oh, it seemed as if something had sucked out the very life out of them!) "Stay... away," one of them muttered despite that, its voice full of hatred. "We... won't... be... defiled... again. Touch... me... and... die."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Iskra, the princess has decided, is cute. It's no planet-shattering revelation for her or anyone to have, really, and it's not even a revelation at all. From their earliest moments together Verity recalls finding the pirate attractive, but with each day spent by her side a new layer of nuance is added to her attraction. Today, for example, she has realized that the scarlett on Iskra's cheeks bring about her more bashful qualities––which cause her to come off as far less fearsome than she is. It's amusing to think about what Demetria might have thought had she ever seen this very special side of the captain, because it must be such a contrast to the torturer she had become intimate with. Even Verity finds it hard to layer these two Iskra's into one, but she knows that the woman next to her is probably made of dualities and each one is either meant to confuse or challenge the princess's preconceived notions of, well, everything it seems. Not that she minds, for Life with Iskra has taught her a great deal many things that she never could have learned from her studies; and most of what Iskra has taught her has come from the pirate's remarkable ability to gracefully obliterate that which the princess used to think she knew.

And what does the pirate shatter for Verity next? Just about everything when she admits the princess is close to her heart––of course, Verity is warmed by all the other stuff Iskra says, like the bit on... well the specifics are not important, but this? Oh, this is something she had not expected! 'I am dear to her. Me? Verity... dear to Iskra. Sages, just how does one cope with such revelations?!' And just what is she even to do with this information? Obviously, she will spend a great deal of Time deciphering exactly what the pirate had meant when she said this and how deep the implication runs. Even as her mind runs wilds she tries to hold her composure, since she does not know exactly where Iskra's heart is; so other than the mirror blush on her cheeks, she remains disaffected. (Even if she knows that whenever she makes these claims her heart truly is beating for the captain––practically begging to escape its cage and cozy up next to Iskra's––but she does not want to assume the same is true for the pirate. Her affections could be purely platonic in nature. Of course, Verity's are as well, of that she is convinced, but if, say, the pirate were to hint of something deeper... Well, the princess cannot say how she will be affected by such news other than knowing her heart will soar so high it will leave the atmosphere.) "Dear to your heart," she repeats, trying the words out her own tongue to see if she likes how they feel, "The sentiment is most wholly returned. There is no other I would have allowed to join me on this venture, I must admit. You are favored company."

Though as the conversation shifts, the sparkles that shone in Verity's eyes disappear under Iskra's ire. It takes the princess a moment to recognize that she is not angry with her, but with the Greed fueled crimes that plague her home country. "Air? They would let future generations die just for... for mere profit? What is that worth if there are no people left? Though I can imagine that cleaning such pollution must be costly, should it not be the responsibility of the crown to raise the funds to support the most basic needs of the people?" Granted, her homelands are full of ills as well and paying for water and air are not evils her people must combat, at least. (Food, naturally, is a different matter entirely. Medicine as well and don't even get the princess started on housing or education.) Completely scandalized by this concept, she almost doesn't hear Iskra's following question.

And, to be honest, she almost wishes she hadn't heard it. The memories that flood her all at once, flashes of bliss and agony, cause the princess to stop in her tracks as if frozen. Though she gathers herself quickly and blinks away the snippets. This is not the Time. Iskra wants to hear of what she loves and even if it brings sorrow, she will still to venture there because it is important to Verity to answer all the pirate's queries. For the sake of letting Iskra in. "How can I choose a most? There was––is much to love about where I am from. From the sunsets to the people and the sea, I––" suddenly, she stops, lifting her head up to look at the two redwoods, a pair of dying giants. (Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise that she is interrupted, because any longer and she might have ended up replacing the goddess Neareida with her homesick tears.)

The trees are drooped over, not broken or bent but drooped; their trunks, usually wider than eight barrels in a line, act as though they're made of putty or something equally soft; the tip-top of the trees, that would normally scrape the sky, are only hovering a meter from the ground. Jarring enough as the sight is, it's even stranger to hear such ethereal beings spit malice. The anger is so palpable, she can open her mouth and taste it. (Bitter, like her own poison.)

Cautiously, the princess takes a step forward with her hands raised. "We mean you no harm, great giants. In fact, we hope to be your allies, if you will have us. The spirits from the falls instructed us to investigate the cause of the goddess's ailment, you see."

"Child... do... you... think... us... fools...?"

"We... know... you... are... made... of... poison... too..."

"That..." she starts, feeling herself grow more nervous with each passing second. There is the urge to flee, but she remembers what she is striving to accomplish and takes another daring step closer. "Who better to send to siphon out poison than one born from it? Like won't poison like," someone had once told her, "You may kill us, but know you are killing the goddess's last hope." She takes a final step forward, daring the spirits to strike her down.

"..." The trees deliberate between themselves in silence. It's even more difficult to tell where they stand with the trees. Perhaps Verity's had been too bold, because at one point the roots ripple through the ground and send her falling backward. Then finally, they speak once more in unison, "Princess... and... pirate... "

Those moving roots should have been something to keep watch for, because soon they are wrapped around the princess and pirate. Both are lifted into the air and then tossed into the well like wads of paper. Verity screams as she plummets, only stopping when her breath runs out and somehow, even after that, they are stilling falling and falling! She almost thinks it's an endless flight until they finally fall hit the water. However, rather than hit the bottom of the well or at least reach the point where the water will let them sink no further, they burst through the some other side and find themselves... in the sewage system?
 
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Ah, how Iskra would have loved to venture into Verity's past! Those few anecdotes the princess had shared, contextless and shrouded in mystery? The pirate had loved them as well, of course, but she hadn't been able to... hmm, appreciate such gifts properly. (With the barrier of distrust between them, you see, everything had been just poison in disguise. Had Verity told her the stories because she had wanted to, or because she had hoped to win her trust? Had Iskra told the princess the truth, or had she been hiding gruesome details in order not to fall from grace? Everything, everything had been tainted by their twisted dynamic-- even worse, it might take years to clean those stains! Still, for the privilege of Verity's company, she'd do it gladly. ...with searing hot water, Iskra would scrub her hands clean, even if she had to peel her very skin away in order to achieve that. Good things demanded sacrifices, you know? And Verity... Verity was the best thing that had ever happened to her, most likely. Her very own guiding star. So what if she had burned her once already? That was, after all, what stars did-- they were to be admired from distance, not touched, and the pirate wouldn't make the same mistake twice. ...not again, anyway.)

Sadly, they didn't have much time to ponder over the joys that had passed. Instead, they were confronted with... withering giants? Just like all the dying creatures, they were hellbent on denying their mortality with every breath they took, too, and so they resorted to threats. Pffft! Did they truly think she was afraid of them? She, the terror of this galaxy? They'd have to try much harder, indeed, if they were to send a shiver down her spine. "Verity has the truth of it," the pirate nodded. "Besides, I apologize if I'm being uncouth here, but what is it that you have to lose? Your goddess have been poisoned, and by the looks of it, you are dying as well. Why not gamble on the help of two strangers, then? Whatever happens, you'll benefit from it. If you die, you see, you shall be released from these pitiful shells-- faster than you would have been, too, and that is a blessing on its own. Now, if we do help your goddess? Not only will she shower you with praise, but she shall also cure your ailment, I imagine. So, what will it be? The certainty of a slow death, or something more interesting?" Oh, by the Shade, by the Shade, by the Shade! If Verity had crossed a line, then Iskra had done so with several of them, really, and she could swear she sensed the trees' glares burning a hole through her head.

Regardless of her fears, though? It seemed that the guardians did not wish to claim their vengeance just yet-- or, if they did, it turned out they had a very strange sense of humor, indeed. "Oof," Iskra huffed, holding her nose so that the vile smells wouldn't enter it. "Is that the most sacred of wells? I have to say, I was prepared to be underwhelmed, but nothing could have made me anticipate this." Were the guardians mocking them? Had they judged their worth with those wooden eyes of theirs, and concluded they were worthy less than feces? (Which, ridiculous! Verity was there with her, you know, so everyone who wasn't hopelessly blind could see for themselves that such a statement was far, far from the truth. Although... hmm. Perhaps she was underestimating the trees? Perhaps, perhaps this wasn't some petty revenge at all.)

"Look, Verity," Iskra pointed to a tunnel, leading to... Shade knew where, really. "Do you see the edges? It's been dug recently. Now, the spirits talked of the goddess being poisoned, hadn't they? Maybe this is how the villain did it! To think that someone would defile a holy place in such a way..." Iskra shook her head, thoroughly disgusted. "Why is it, Verity, that wonders can arise from the human mind, but such depravities can as well? How are we capable of housing so many multitudes, when our bodies are this frail?"

Iskra walked forward, inspecting every detail of this vile place-- not that there was much to see, mind you, but who knew whether she wouldn't be able to find more clues here? Nobody, that was, and so the pirate did her best. (As most sewage systems, this one was three things: vast, dark, and filthy. The water slushed disgustingly under her feet, and when she imagined what was beneath them exactly... no, no, it was better not to let her mind wander.) "I wish the goddess called out to us," Iskra sighed. "How are we to find her here? The corridors seem to be endless, and looking for needles in haystacks is just not my forte." Was it so much to ask for a sign? They had come here to save her, dammit, so some degree of cooperation was in order. Even in the tales of princesses trapped in towers and their valiant knights, the princesses had to cast their hair down so that the knights could climb on them!

"This really isn't how I envisioned this day," the pirate admitted with a chuckle. "I mean, I knew you could be pretty... hmm, unpredictable, when it comes to your shopping trips, but not in my wildest dreams have I imagined we'd end up in a sewer. Full of surprises, aren't you?"

Speaking of surprises, this place had many of them up its sleeve, too, for when Iskra accidentally touched a wall... well, a rune lit up, surrounded by a ghostly green glow.

'Pshpshpsh,' an inhuman voice laughed, and somehow, Iskra felt that the temperature dropped by a few degrees. Just, what was this? 'Do you truly think a mere mortal could poison a goddess? Sebille may be my instrument, yes, but it is me who you are crossing via interfering. Do you wish to become the enemy of Layani, the goddess of strife? Turn back while you still can, you poor, ignorant fools. Disobey me, and watch your lives devolve into chaos!'
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The sewers are not meant for princesses––they're not really meant for anyone, of course, and yet Verity especially thinks this is no place for her. This is nothing short of disgusting. Her nose wrinkles and she has to fight the urge to gag as the stench assaults her nose. The water, thankfully, doesn't go further than her ankles and still she is already dreaming of the bath she will take once they are back on Inure. As they continue forward, she covers her nose with her shawl; annoyance also starts bud within her and tries to stamp it out––this is an important mission, after all, and she does not want to sour it with her mood. Granted, she did not necessarily think that this excursion would be glamorous, per se, but she had not thought to assume that sewage would be involved. In some ways, it makes sense that to poison a water goddess one can do so through pollution––however, she might have thought this task more literal and perhaps imagined a scene where they'd find the goddess, fallen over, with a vial of poison near her limp body and heroically they would revive her. Somehow.

So, like her companion, she is also shocked their innocent shopping trip has turned into a stroll through the sewers. (Not really inspiring for her friendly fantasies, but leave it to Verity to instead imagine a moment where they laugh about this later. Maybe over a bottle of wine, on a secluded beach... Yes, that might be an appropriate Time to make a jest of this dreadful situation.) For now, however, she will just keep herself grounded knowing they will not have to spend an eternity submerged in waste. "Perhaps, it is these violently opposed dualities in our nature that make us so fragile? And perhaps the Divinities made us so for Fear of how powerful we might have been otherwise. Imagine how limitless we would be were it not for the obstacles of having flesh."

To the princess, she assumes the goddess will have some sort of glow or otherworldly pull that will indicate her presence. So she does not fret over not knowing exactly where they are headed. "No matter where she is, we must be close. I don't think the guardians would have tossed us at random––we seem to be the only souls willing to investigate this matter," which she should perhaps take as a warning in and of itself, "So why throw us off the course?" (The thought that the guardians are leading them astray on purpose does occur to the princess and if that be the case? Then as soon as that is confirmed, she will not waste anymore of her or Iskra's Time with this affair. They'll find another way to get her sword back, but she would prefer to win Gwenwyn back in an honorable manner and not have to resort to thievery.)

"Well, I aim to keep you in my Life for as long as you will have me and I figure surprise is the best way to keep a woman interested," she jokes, laughing to herself, "Is it working?" That question, though, will likely have to wait as another goddess makes herself known. Now, Verity is not keen on making enemies of Divinities of any denomination, but if this will give her a chance to correct at least one of her grand mistakes, then it is an unavoidable circumstance. Admittedly, too, the idea of being touched by strife? It does not frighten her. Her history has practically been written in Layani's language and so she cannot imagine there are many more ways in which she can suffer. Perhaps it is arrogant to assume she knows everything of Strife, but as it is, she sees no cause to cower from this challenge.

"The goddesses fight for us and so we must also fight for them when their sisters have turned on them, Layani. Surely you know the people are always involved in the plights of their creators?" she asks, tilting her head to the side before raising her hands in surrender, "But make no mistake, you are not an enemy I wish to have, and our allegiance has already been spoken for."

'Brave are the women who know no better,' the goddess spits, sending a frigid chill through the air, 'but they all become blithering fools once they realize who they have crossed! If you wish to be on the losing side of a war, then so be it, princess and pirate.'

"You mistake who the spirits have sent to save Neareida. They did not send women full of hopes of dreams. They sent two whose lives have already been claimed by your essence. Can you not recognize your own handiwork in our histories?"

'Tsk, tsk. You know not what you speak of, princess,' Layani shrieks. The tunnel suddenly loses all light and the temperature drops once more to a low that her bones can feel. Then an unknown force pushes both women backwards against the wall, pinning them into place. 'For that, your insolence must be punished!'

Though they cannot be seen, tendrils of smoke capture the princess and pirate, slipping beneath their eyelids. The tendrils dig into the women's psyches, dredging up the horrors they have witnessed as well as identifying Fears yet to be conquered. When the duo are released, almost as quickly as they had been restrained, the tendrils that had invaded their mind? Oh, they shift and take new shape right before their eyes! Becoming the very manifestations of their deepest hauntings. (Verity's, for example, takes the shape of a being made of six fiery wings. Naturally, it materializes a spear and then goes to attack the pirate!)
 
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'Is it working?' Verity asked, and immediately, Iskra's mind was plunged into chaos. The thread of logic, with which she had always sewn her ideas together? It snapped, accompanied by a loud bang! ...well, that, and also by the blood that once again rushed into her cheeks. (How did the princess do it? How, how, how? Always, always she seemed to know just the right thing to say to trigger such a reaction in her, and Iskra... Iskra knew not what she thought of it, really. Being at her mercy in such a way wasn't necessarily unpleasant, you know? Like this, the desire to bend to another that seemed to be rooted in the very core of her being would be sated, and yet her flesh would bear no marks of submission. No blood would flow, and there would be no cracking of the whip, either! More than a sacrifice, it was a game, the pirate supposed, which sorta explained all those, um... inexplicable feelings that came with it. As in, games were supposed to make you feel all tingly, right? Tingly and warm all at once, and maybe also more than just a little breathless. If she had to liken it to something, then perhaps the sensation of a feather traveling down her skin? A feather that didn't touch her more than it did, really, and yet it made her feel as if she was on fire. Yes, yes, that seemed apt! ...no wonder, indeed, that people liked to indulge themselves in such pleasures. Games and similar activities had been forbidden to her, mostly because they had been seen as a waste of time for one who was destined to be a messenger of death, but quickly, Iskra was discovering that she found enjoyment in such things. A lot of it, actually!) "Perhaps," the pirate admitted. "I mean, I am sure that there are a lot of things about you that keep my interest alive, so I cannot say it's caused by this alone, but it may be one of the--"

--'factors,' she'd meant to say, except that the literal goddess of strife chose this moment to give them her warning. (Frankly? Iskra would have loved to say that this shocked her, but it didn't. After all their meetings with mystical beings, this almost seemed to be a foregone conclusion-- duh, of course that a goddess was the source of trouble for another goddess. Like couldn't hurt like, yes, but you know what they also said? That only a diamond could cut another diamond! Adages, you see, were not carved in stone-- instead, they were a blooming garden, with flowers in shades of red and blue and white, and everything in between. Staggering diversity, wasn't it? A wise observer, then, did not get too fixated on a single idea. No, she was aware of life's complexities, and as such, she was ready to forsake old thoughts in favor of new ones, depending on what the situation required. And Iskra? Oh, Iskra had reached that stage long ago!)

Layani spoke with the authority of someone who wasn't used to being defied, but today, she would have to swallow that bitter pill. "I do respect you and your work, Layani-- often, I operate within the chaos you create. For that, I am eternally thankful." The 'but' in her voice could be heard even before it truly reached it, so when the captain shook her head? Yes, it would only be a shock for those who were hopelessly, hopelessly daft. "However," she continued, "my respect for you is an abstract thing, and cannot trump the loyalty that binds me to the princess. Her sword is what she wants, so it is also what she will get. And, if you stand in my way? I will bring you down, a goddess or not. Mark my words, Layani."

...and, if nothing else, Layani at least took them seriously. Ah! What... what is this? Her eyes were on fire, it seemed, and through them, something monstrous crawled inside of her skull-- it burrowed itself deeper, deeper and deeper, leaving ugly scars in its wake, and... No. No, no, no! When her eyes finally worked again, you see, Iskra was confronted with a dark shadow. Despite it hanging in the air, it appeared so, so heavy! Like the guilt for all those her hands had slain, really. 'It is time, Iskra,' the being said, almost lovingly. 'Come. Give yourself to me. Remember who you are, and who you were meant to be. Pay your debts.' It spread its formless arms, as if to embrace the pirate, and, shockingly enough? Iskra faltered. Faltered was a kind word to describe it, actually-- she stumbled and fell on the ground, landing right in the filthy water. "No. Not yet. Please," she begged, her eyes full of glass. (It had to be glass, right? That, at least, would explain the stinging.) "I can't--"

'You can't what?' the shadow laughed. 'But, oh, you must, my dear Iskra. Why do you think you exist, hm? What is a star worth if it refuses to shine? Or a bird, if it won't sing? Surrender yourself to your destiny.' Which, what an ugly word! A slap instead of a caress, shackles instead of an anchor. (...in her grand destiny, you see, there was no place for someone like Verity. There was no place for Iskra, either, and if her journey had to end here... oh, how unfair that would be! Like gouging out the eyes of one who had been blind for most of her life, and hadn't even decided yet what her favorite color was.)

"No," Iskra cried out, her shoulders trembling with sobs. (Verity. Verity, who had been so, so joyful at the prospect of traveling together, and who had given her the prettiest smiles. How could she abandon her now? She couldn't and wouldn't, and the creature inside of her head wouldn't change her mind! Never, just like a moon couldn't change a sun's trajectory.) "I've just... I've just regained my hope. You cannot have it!" Tears were streaming down her face by that point, so could you really blame her if she didn't notice the fiery apparition? Most people wouldn't!
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Goddesses may be known for their blessings, but it is truly their curses that should be remembered. The horror that manifests before Verity's eyes is one she is not ready to encounter. Not again. Not so soon. Of course, the apparition's likeness to the woman who has caused most of the discord in the princess's Life is not exact. This looks nothing like the girl with hair so silken it sang––it only bears resemblance in her wings and weapon of choice and in that, Verity can give herself peace knowing this is nothing real. Despite the shock and worry that course through her veins, she repeats to herself that this is a petty imitation. (Were she to be faced with a true mirror to the queen? Oh, well, if that were the case she might find herself in a similar position as Iskra––)

Iskra who no longer looks the role of a dreaded pirate captain. Not in this instance. No, this is not the woman who stabbed herself upon their first meeting; who brought a gruesome end to her fiancée; who spoke so confidently to spirits and this deity alike. This is someone entirely new to her and Verity, curious as she is, is not certain she wants to meet her. (Not because she rejects Iskra and all her many faces––no, to assume the princess is that shallow is to admit you know nothing of her at all. It's just that this variation of her companion, who appears so broken and distraught, is someone she would like to meet someday but not under these circumstances. Disturbing circumstances that have clearly brought about this sudden character shift in the captain; and in an environment where she cannot be granted forgiveness for faltering. This is no place for her to hold the captain! To be there with her in her distress and gently tell her, 'Fear not, captain. I stand with you. You are not alone in this. Let me soothe you.') As much as Verity had hoped and expected to count on Iskra's sword, she realizes her companion is in no headspace to fight. Not in the slightest.

(This apparition of Iskra's? It reminds her of the one they had seen some Time ago, when they had first become seekers and were forced to embrace the darkest parts of themselves. The likeness between the two apparitions causes the princess to wonder just what this all represents. She wonders if it is her place to ask and even if it is, is she brave enough to investigate?)

Her internal ruminations, however, must wait. When her nemesis’s apparition launches at her dear captain, Verity acts accordingly. She takes the dagger she had acquired from Cressida and throws it towards the flames, calling out to her, "She is not the one you mean to torment, Sera!” The being, either responding to the dagger that's been absorbed into her fire or by the name, snaps her attention over to the princess.

"Oh, do you want to save her, Verity? Is that your aim? To play the hero while you paint me as the villain, you traitorous snake!" the apparition shrieks, moving faster than the eye can see and colliding with the princess with such force it sends her backwards into the putrid water. The princess gags and groans when she hits the water, soon pulling herself up from the waste to stand and face this fraud. But before Verity can draw her sword, the apparition sweeps her largest wing through the air and sends a flurry of sharp feathers towards the princess,"You promised your loyalty. You promised to stand with me. You promised you would be there! Your treachery has shown the world that the word of princess Verity is worthless. Now, I will take everything from you! Just like you tried to do to me!"

Verity narrowly avoids the attack, the flames just kissing her clothing and in her distracted state, the seraphim uses this opportunity to once more lunge at the pirate. And once more, Verity gathers herself to intervene, committed to holding the attention of the flames and drawing the danger towards herself, away from Iskra. 'I must protect her, as she would I.' "Stand down, wretch––you will not take her from me so easily!" (Though it seems perilous to fight an apparition made of flames with only a sword to defend herself with, she knows that no enemy is impossible to conquer. And if she were to think of what might be the antithesis to Layani's influence? What could be a means to weaken the goddess? Certainly not fighting or pleading with her essence. That might very well give her strength, she assumes. She knows they must change their course and fast if they are to give Neareida a chance––as well as Gwenwyn. An idea comes to mind, a potentially weak one, but it is all she has.)

When the moment presents itself, she manages to get herself closer to Iskra while the seraphim recovers from a princess caused rockslide. (She may or may not have accidentally sealed off the exit.) With only precious seconds at her disposal, she approaches the pirate and places a hand on her shoulder, then lets it slide over to stroke the her back. As she speaks she makes sure to keep her tone gentle though still loud enough that she can be heard over whatever is plaguing her companion, "Iskra, Iskra, I need you. Not to fight. However, I know how to overcome these foes, I-I think, but I cannot do it, you must. For you see, if we are to weaken the goddess here we mustn't feed into her essence," she bites her lip, in obvious uncertainty, "I-I need you to play a song. Something, hm, harmonious. I know this is much to ask of you, and I promise I shall repay the favor ten times over."
 
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It was said, by the scholars who attempted to unravel the secrets of the universe, that the heaviest objects in this galaxy were stars-- stars which, as far as Iskra knew, were formed by hot gases. And, really, how could gases possibly be heavy? Weren't they all like air or smoke, ever-present and lighter than a mother's caress? Probably not, the pirate supposed, for there must have been a reason behind these statements. That her mind of a simple soldier couldn't not grasp it didn't invalidate the fact, shockingly enough! True things just continued being, you know, true, regardless of how hard your jaw hit the floor after you'd heard the news. So, in order to explain it to herself? To make the concept a little more digestible, even for one of such low birth? Iskra had come up with an alternative theory, wherein the stars were so heavy due to the adoration of millions. (Every night, countless eyes looked up to them and prayed, didn't they? The gaze had a certain weight to it, you see, and being stared at so intently... oh, that must have had an effect, alright. So, so many of them, just like when you threw a rock into a pond and watched the ripples break the smooth surface! ...perhaps the eyes kept them at an arm's length, too. Love and hatred were just different aspects of the same double-edged sword, weren't they? Too much hate, and your world would consume itself; too much love, and your world would rot from the fake sweetness. What was love, after all, if not idealization in disguise? And idealizations adored their pedestals, atop of which nobody wanted to live-- they were high, way too high, you see, and a single misstep would lead to you tumbling down, down, down, towards your inevitable death. ...and, if you were especially unlucky, then towards the accusations of lying, too. No, it wasn't nearly enough that the fall broke your neck! The pedestal was hungry, and so it demanded everything-- every single drop of blood, every bone yet unbroken, every dream that might have survived the impact. (Achilles, who had dared to touch the sun, had been punished accordingly. Why, then, should you hope to escape unscathed?)

For these reasons, and many others, Iskra understood why the stars preferred their distance. (It was easier to meet all those expectations, in this way. Less painful. And, with the darkness hiding the ugly things, wasn't it easier to love them as well? Unlike those pesky subjects, objects were uncomplicated-- created to be acted upon, to be filled with whatever you desired, to serve you, you, you, and never think of themselves. 'In the loss of self,' one of the mantras they'd drilled into her head said, 'bliss.' Bliss for whom, though? The subjects, with their world-shaping thoughts, or the objects like her?)

Either way, through this mental exercise, Iskra understood why the stars were so heavy-- except that she disagreed with the notion that nothing even heavier existed. The sensation of not being able to escape, for example? The drum that kept shrieking inside of your head, over and over, with every beat sounding like 'you must, you must, you will?' So overwhelming it was, indeed, that Iskra wondered how her head hadn't split in half yet! (That it hadn't cracked, and filth hadn't poured into the world. ...what did the insides of her brain look like, hmm? Was it as disgusting as her deeds, in this inside matching the outside way? A morbid desire to open her own head flashed through her mind-- to open it, and then paint the walls with its contents. Wouldn't that be the best course of action, all things considered? The one way to true freedom? Not even the Shade could repair such destruction, she was sure, and... and maybe it was better to end it on her own terms, while her dignity hadn't been torn to shreds yet. Just, what was the point of waiting, waiting, waiting, with bated breath, for the other shoe to drop? Such a half-existence was no life at all!)

'Yes,' the Shade cooed, 'yes, my dear, now you understand. Why don't you take your sword and stick it in your belly? Let it all end, in the same way in which it had begun. In disgrace.'

And, in all honesty? The thought was tempting-- like a siren's sweet song, carried to her ears by the wind. (For a moment, all that existed to the pirate was her sword, and its weight at her hip. Had she truly been born to receive its steel kiss? There were worse ways to go, and this one, at least, was wrapped in karmic justice. 'Do it,' the Shade whispered. 'Pay the toll, for all those whose lives have been reduced to ashes. Do you think you can just play with fire, Iskra? But fire doesn't play around. Touch it, and it will burn you, too, oh, it will--'

Except that then, through the Shade's speech, different words reached her ears-- words laced with so much honey, really, that the person speaking could only be... Verity. Does she need me? Her eyes were still strangely unfocused, as if she was watching the world via a surface of a lake, but the pirate blinked a few times, and it improved somewhat. "W-what?" Iskra sobbed. "I don't... I don't understand..." Understanding an order and following it were two very different things, though, and since the captain had had a lot of experience with the latter? Almost automatically, her hand fell to her pocket.

'No!' the Shade wailed. 'Stop it, do you hear me? I command you to do so. I own you, you foolish little girl, and things don't get to say no!' Which, yes, a valid point, but Verity had asked a favor to her. In not granting it, Iskra would have thrown a piece of herself away, too, and dammit, she was incomplete enough already! More parts of her were missing than those that were still there, so no need to add to that number.

Gently, Iskra put her flute to her lips, and the melody that filled the place? It was both sweet and melancholic, like a desire only half-fulfilled-- a memory of a summer day, deep within the very heart of winter.

"What!" Layani shouted, and, hmm. Was it just her, or was the goddess' body glitching out of existence? In one moment, she was there, but in the other, she seemed almost... translucent, perhaps. "Stop this at once, pirate, or I'll... I'll take everything you love, and destroy it. Oh, I know just the thing!' With a single motion of her delicate hand, a dark mirror emerged from the ground, and as for what they could see in its reflection? Why, Inure, sailing smoothly among the stars! 'How would you like it if I turned your crew into wights, hmm? I can feed them to the Great Devourer, right here and there.'

And the thing was, Iskra would stop, but who could guarantee that the goddess would keep her word? Layani ruled over chaos, so if the pirate obeyed... well, she could laugh in her face and still do it! It seemed, however, that her melody alone wasn't enough. "Verity," the pirate paused, only long to relay her message. "You told me once that poetry is music, too. Prove it, and join my efforts! It's now or never. Let's banish this wicked creature into whatever impure realm she dwells in!"
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The princess isn't necessarily pleased that she must rely on the pirate when it so clearly needs to be her who takes care of this enemy, just as Iskra took care of Demetria. But with a shortage of both ideas and Time, it is necessary to hinder the pirate for the sake of their survival. She can only hope that the captain is up to the task, for if she falters once more these apparitions will continue to plague them. A song may be their only salvation. (The idea to use music to overcome this adversary had been a combination of influences––both her conversation with the pirate all that Time ago and with a pianist she had known. Both reminded Verity that music is the universal language of the heart. In being the heart's language, it can speak to all women and soothe the ailments of the mind if one knows the tune to strum or hum or sing. In that, it can be the language of grace and harmony as well––the antidote to strife, she assumes.)

Glad that Iskra doesn't seem to require further explanation, for that would have wasted the few precious seconds they have before the seraphim fully recovers her wits, Verity offers the pirate a grin as if to say, 'Thank you, this will not be soon forgotten.' As she listens to the tune, she closes her eyes and imagines what may be inspiring this song. It's not one that she has heard and while there are probably archives upon archives of songs she has never heard, she wonders if this is another original composition. It's a song of bittersweet nostalgia by her own interpretation and the feelings that sweep across her chest. It reminds her of better days, and where there is a bitter tinge of sorrow, the song also leaves her with a feeling of hope for those days to return to her. (Perhaps she already believes they are nearing, if the pirate remains with her.)

Though her eyes are glued to the captain, completely mesmerised by her Beauty, when the goddess speaks to them once more, Verity turns her attention towards the flickering body. She must admit that for a moment she almost forgot they are in the middle of a struggle, lost as she had been in the pirate's melody. As reality beckons for her attention, however, the princess is pleased that her plan seems to be working––what other reason would the goddess have for threatening them? Even as the mirror is pushed in front of their faces, showing those they have sworn to protect as captain and princess of Inure, she almost grabs the pirate's arm and urges her to stop, not wanting to risk anything happening to the crew. However, when Iskra decides they ought to continue? She trusts the captain's judgment as she knows with utter certainty that Iskra would never do anything to put her women at risk.

"Alright, I believe I have something that ought to compliment your tune," she nods in response. While she normally would perform her pieces without the aid of music, she has read poems with cellists, harpists, and pianists alike to help breathe more Life into her craft. Though not her favorite way to perform, there is no room to create favorable conditions and she waits for a moment to step in. (Besides, the idea of performing with Iskra is oddly pleasurable.) When the melody provides an opportunity for her poem, she recites:

I stood over the canyon
At the edge where the grass kisses the trees
Where the wind dips into the valley and soars back up
It combs through my hair
Whispers secrets into my ears
And I stretch out my arms
daring the wind to lift me away

I open my mouth to scream
(Defiant girl, defiant girl)
The wind steals my voice

And she howls at my action
Fills my ears with her sound
Throws my hair into tangles
And then she calms
And only when she is calm
And I can feel the kiss of Sun
And not the whip of Wind
Does she whisper,

“Starchild, now is not your time,
Stay. You have still much to do.
You are at the edge of everything.”

Through each verse, the goddess before them continues to flicker, the intervals becoming more frequent as the princess and pirate near the end of their song. The apparitions fade before Layani does, but even so, she does not go down so easily. Growing restless with each note and line, the goddess screeches and lunges towards the duo, but her fading body merely passes through them and with the final verse, she disappears. The tunnel becomes quiet once more with only the echoes of their movements to fill the void.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the princess turns towards the pirate, practically glowing with their accomplishment, "That was fantastic, Iskra––I truly would not have been half as successful without you." Then, seeming to remember the state the captain had been in before their song, concern touches her voice, "Um, and how are you fairing? I've never seen you so distraught and I must admit it was quite startling. Whatever the apparition was that stood before you, it seemed nefarious." Tilting her head and unable to escape the nagging question, she continues, "If it's not too much to pry... may I ask what it was meant to represent?"

Still, even with her many endless curiosities, they still have their mission. Now that Layani is gone, the air in the tunnel somehow feels lighter. As if a fog has been removed that allows Verity to see clearer and at the furthest point that she can see, she spots a faint blue glow, about the size of a firefly. As it approaches the pair, its size grows and its shape becomes more distinguishable. When the strange glow finally appears before them, it seems to be a seahorse made of water. It looks at the two with intrigued, but doesn't spend Time on questions or petty challenges. With urgency in her voice, she speaks, "Ah, pirate and princess! Make haste––the goddess is near and she needs your help. Follow me."

Without any further prompting, the water whisperer dashes forward and leaves a faint blue trail for them to follow.
 
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Words. Words, the pirate had thought once, were just wind-- sounds that people made with their mouths, in truth, when they were too cowardly to reach for their blade. Most often, they were a stalling tactic, or padding, intended to hide just how empty your ideas were, or even nefarious traps laid at your enemies' feet. No, really. They had these curious characteristics, you know? They enlightened and obscured at once, much like a light that shone so brightly you saw nothing else, and behind it, many other things could be hiding. Things such as fangs, for example. Easily, you could roll out a red carpet before them, with cold thorns of steel underneath! So, yes. Words were nothing you'd want to be too involved with, for only a fool consumed poison of her own accord. Now, however? Now, as Iskra listened to the princess paint a scenery with her sentences, each stroke of her delicate brush a masterpiece in itself? She could feel her heart thawing, and... and maybe her eyes were thawing as well, if the wetness was was any indication. (Hmm, curious! Were eyes supposed to do that? Perhaps she should seek the assistance of a healer-- lately, her body had been doing all kinds of strange, inexplicable things, and the pirate had to wonder whether it was a sign of her impeding doom. Always, her health had been an unwavering shield, but the universe hated constants, you see? Oh yes, yes! Lean on them, use them as a crutch if you have to, but do it too much, and much like a twig too thin to do its job properly, they would snap in half. ...besides, Iskra had sort of been expecting it for years now. As unpredictable as it could be, it was unlikely that the Shade would claim her without any warning at all. No, there would have to be some signal-- a canary clapping its wings in an infested mine, and screaming its tiny lungs out in panic. Her body not working as it once had seemed to be exactly that, right? And Iskra sure as hell couldn't remember her eyes ever malfunctioning like this, or even the wild, giddy sensations in her stomach. If not a harbinger of decay, then what else could it be? She wasn't a cocoon, and so there was no evolution for her-- her steps could only ever bring her closer to her own coffin, and never further away from it. Never, never, never!)

Either way, the goddess was fading, and that sorta pushed her health concerns into the background-- it did so with her less alarming thoughts as well, for nothing else could be this important. (Her wonderings about the subject of Verity's poem? Those were hollow, hollow, hollow! For days, Iskra could theorize about all of the meanings woven into its tapestry, and yet, yet the truth would keep escaping from her grasp. It was kind of like trying to dig a grave with a toothpick, wasn't it? So, so pathetically underprepared she was! Verity's mind, you see, was a lush garden-- Iskra's own garden, in contrast, was dead and barren, killed by her own neglect. With their souls so different, how could she ever hope to understand her? How, how, how?! An ant couldn't speak to a lion, either, and... and it was foolish to assume the lyrics had anything to do with her, out of all people. 'At the edge of everything, huh?' That checked out, but that only meant she had nowhere to go, and everywhere to fall. So, no, it wasn't a song of hope. Maybe it could be, for those who could spread their wings, though the pirate? There was a chain around her neck, and it kept pulling her down, down, down, towards the darkness. ...there was no light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how you spun the story. Not for her, anyway.)

And then, of course, Verity just had to ask about it. Could she not even let her savor the victory in peace, and celebrate as Layani returned to nothingness? It was like the princess just couldn't help herself! No, the pirate chastised herself, that is an ugly, ugly thought. It's not like she knows just how frail the branch I am standing on is, nor does she know of the abyss underneath. And, well... If the problem was her not being aware of certain details, wouldn't revealing the information rectify it? Theoretically, the answer was yes, but oh, the right words just wouldn't come to her! All of a sudden, Iskra's throat felt parched, as if she hadn't drunk for days. The weight of Verity's gaze got too heavy for her to bear, too, and so she looked away, almost shamefully. "It's..." the pirate began, nonetheless feeling that the princess deserved not to be left out of the loop. "...it's hard for me to talk about it, Verity. I... I don't... Do you remember what I told you about my deaths? About the nature of my resurrections, and how it is a bigger deal than getting up from your bed in the morning? This is related to that, sort of. My Shade. I..." '...am a living sacrifice,' she wanted to say, but her tongue wouldn't obey. Why? How was that a difficult thing to admit? In her heart, Iskra had known for years, and so it shouldn't have been such a grueling task! If there had been any denial at all, it had gone out years ago, much like the flame of a candle whose wick had wasted away, so... so this shouldn't have hurt more than admitting she drank water every day, really. There shouldn't have been any emotional involvement at all! "I will explain later," she promised, wiping away the ocean that had gathered in her eyes. "I swear. I just... don't know how to approach this right now. I guess that I'd like to pick my words carefully, so that you might understand better. Can you wait, princess? Please."

Regardless of whether Verity agreed or not, however, waiting was her only option-- mostly because the voice of the water goddess reached them, and oh, did it sound distraught! Immediately, Iskra's features hardened. "Let us hurry, Verity. We haven't much time!" And, in the context of that? The sewer didn't even seem as disgusting, or rather, the pirate stopped registering it. Marching onwards was all that mattered, truly!

It didn't take them long to find a frail figure, bent over what seemed to be an altar. The woman was... bound to it, actually? Her hair was water, and the rest of her body oddly translucent, though apparently, that didn't make her immune to being captured. (She seemed broken, too. Countless wounds were covering her, each of them oozing a strange, green-ish substance, and, oh, the smell! Iskra wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.) "Ah," she moaned, obviously in great pain."The spirits sent you, didn't they? Kind of them, but ultimately fruitless. You cannot help me, my children, for I've been cursed. Cut my shackles in half, and you shall cut me as well. My life and the life of my chains have been linked! Tell the spirits to choose a new deity to follow. I'm afraid that there is no recovery for me, and I do not wish for them to wither away waiting. If... If I may ask for a favor, though? Give me a good, clean death. End me, before these things," she gestured towards the shackles that, upon closer inspection, seemed to be crawling around her wrists, "can."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Curiously, carefully Verity studies Iskra as she often does when she believes she is about to learn some new piece of information, something that may help her understand the woman she has such a fondness for. Especially now, she may even come off as eager because after suffering through so many misunderstandings with the captain and feeling as though neither of them know a lick of the other, she has made her Life's mission to know the pirate on the most intimate level. (In a literal sense, too, if she is so lucky to catch Iskra's eye––and she does believe she has, but the build has been slower than expected.) Immediately, however, she realizes that while it was her curiosities that prompted her to ask such a question, that perhaps she should have waited for distance between the event and inquiring. She has seen Iskra retreat from her before and this, at first, appears to be another moment where she will be shut out, so she braces herself for that outcome, praying that it is not a door slammed in her face but a gentle decline. However, the princess's assumptions seem to have gotten ahead of her because then the captain wrestles with herself to answer and in that, Verity sees a spark of hope. That, perhaps, there is that eagerness to understand and be understood on both sides of this relationship.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the pirate, as if there is no other place for her to look (and, technically, there isn't), she listens and savors each word. 'My shade,' she had said and that only leaves Verity with more questions! Just what is this 'shade' she speaks of? Because it sounds nothing like what Verity knows a shade to be and there just isn't enough context for the princess to fully surmise what this could be. Surely, she will spend many, many hours sussing out the relationship between Iskra's undying nature and how a 'shade' can factor into this. (Her undying nature, in this new context, sounds more like a curse and a blessing. The princess hopes such is not the case.)

As it would turn out, however, Verity had been right that this is bleeding topic for the pirate and, therefore, an important piece to know her most fully. Nevertheless, even when Iskra isn't able to go any deeper, she is thankful for what Iskra did offer. More than that, she is warmed that the captain put forth that effort for her. ...Perhaps it's Time for the princess to take those brave steps, too, and share the bitter truths of herself. "I thank you for even sharing as much as you did. Your transparency is most appreciated, my friend."

As they continue along the tunnel and the goddess appears before them, Verity, too, breaks into a run––without care for the sewage underfoot, because the sight before her? Oh, it is one that demands all the urgency of lightning speed. Never in Verity's wildest dreams would she have imagined finding herself before a dying goddess, beings who have always seemed untouchable to the princess. Her jaw nearly drops to the floor, while the stench forces her mouth closed shortly after––whatever Layani has done to Neareida it is most villainous. (Even on the brink of Death, she is nothing short of Beautiful and Verity almost finds it difficult to think clearly, enamored as she is.)

In spite of the smell, Verity dares to approach the goddess and kneels by her side. As Neareida reveals that she is too far gone and that all she can hope for now is a clean end to her essence, the princess's chest swells with emotions she has not a name for, but riptides seem to overtake her in that moment. There are flavors of sorrow, anguish, and wrath each Time she is tossed through her personal undercurrent of emotions. Just, how can the goddess ask this of them? How can she lose all sense of hope? Are goddesses not meant to rise above the odds––are they not the forgers of creation? Of destiny and fate? How can Neareida not rewrite her own?

The storms of questions that flash through Verity's mind push tears to her eyes are she wraps her mind around the fact that... that they are too late. And now Neareida will die without her followers to send her away; she will die in this filth; she will die by the hands of two unholy, non-practitioners of her faith and somehow that seems vile to the princess. "Goddess, how can you ask this of mere mortals? There... there must be another way! There has to be," Verity pleads, searching for an answer hidden in the chains that continue to crawl up Neareida like ivy.

"Princess," the goddess starts, her voice full of kindness while her eyes scream of Pain, "Surely, you must know this truth––is that not in the nature of your name, Verity? This is the only kindness I have left to ask. Please, if the chains continue to consume me, I shall be ripped to shreds and drought will overcome these lands. But if you end me in a manner of dignity, my essence, while weaker, can still provide for my loyal subject."

"No, there has to be another way," she says, stubbornly as tears continue to streak down her cheeks. While she had ventured on this quest in hopes of reclaiming her sword, that is hardly on the princess's mind as the goddess's survival becomes paramount. (And, perhaps, there is a need within Verity to save someone for once. To make up for those she couldn't, because in this she can say her actions can still provide for others in keeping the goddess of water alive. She will be a murderer no longer!) She whips her head around to look at Iskra, her eyes full of craze or desperation, depending on the angle one chooses to view the princess. "Iskra, there has to be an answer, a solution, somewhere in this––I promised to bring her to Health. Help me to see another truth, please."

Frantically, Verity begins searching the room for clues or hints––but even somewhere she realizes that were she to find an answer, what use is she? The solution likely involves magic and the princess has no talents for that force and Iskra has already revealed she has none either. Is it even worth searching? 'It has to be,' she ultimately decides, as her mind works towards a solution that will free the goddess from these chains without cutting through them. "W-we can... I don't know, lather her in oil––or call on another deity? One who may be able to undo this wicked contraption?" Not that either of them know the names of the goddesses that preside over these lands, she assumes, or how to summon them. Neareida, who may have had insight on the matter, appears more distracted by her Pain and says nothing other than a moan. (It almost causes Verity to give up for she does not want to be responsible for the goddess's suffering and yet, to end that means to give up hope as well.)

"P-please," the goddess whimpers, looking this Time towards Iskra. "I know a sword can do me this service."
 
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Verity didn't get it, did she? That there were certain shackles that only death could break-- that, as long as you were tied to your mortal shell, you wouldn't escape your wounds. How could you, when they were written onto your very skin? (Iskra, on the other hand, understood. Your body was your fate and your fate was your body, no matter how hard you tried to deny it! No, really. Closing your eyes before that truth was easier, probably, as long as you didn't bear any scars yourself-- as long as your flesh wasn't a prison, your bones unbreakable bars. Just... denial was much simpler to practice when the limitations imposed on you happened to be invisible, you see? And Iskra... oh, Iskra's blindfold had been removed ages ago, back when she'd still been a mere recruit. ...they'd showed her what she was, and what she could never be. That there were boundaries that couldn't be transcended without a key, after which they'd made her swallow hers. Good luck getting it now, when the only way of retrieving it led through your own stomach!)

So, Neareida. At a first glance, whole galaxies separated them-- she, a beloved goddess, Iskra, a disgraced pirate. Two entities that couldn't possibly be more different, really. And yet, despite this, there was a strange kind of kinship between them as well, you see? A kinship born of shared pain, of wearing the same weight around their neck. (The chains that crawled around wrists, and coiled like snakes? The pirate knew how their poison tasted! Knew, knew, knew, far more intimately than she would have liked, too, for it had been forced down her throat as well. 'Eat,' they'd told her, wearing smiles that were colder than steel. 'Eat, little soldier, and know what you are.' And she had done exactly that, you know? She had, because when there was nothing else to eat, even poison would do. ...such a fate was not befitting of a goddess, though. Gods, unlike mortals, were ideas-- thoughts given a physical form, so clear and sharp that they could cut a diamond. That was what gave them their strength, after all. What good, then, could come of diluting them? Even if Iskra managed to carve some sort of existence for her, Neareida would cease to be herself! The shackles would bend her spine, and her will as well, and before the spirits knew it, they would be worshiping someone else altogether. Now, who could guarantee that they would even like that new person? That Neareida would, even? Once corruption coursed through your veins, you see, it awakened the darkest shadows lurking in the depths of your very soul, and... by the Shade, Iskra would not want to be controlled by those.)

"Verity," the pirate said, her voice sad but firm. "Verity, can't you see? A goddess she is, and yet she's been reduced to begging. This, too, is a brand of mercy-- the only mercy that the sword knows. Is it not our duty to grant her her wish? To allow her essence to rejoin the stardust from which she rose? I just... I don't know," she looked away. "If I had that choice, I would want to die, too. The choice between remaining myself and expiring, I mean." ...too bad that, for her, that particular river had already been crossed. They'd carried to the other side, kicking and screaming, though what did it matter? That the pirate found herself there was the only reality she knew, unfortunately. "Though, honestly, what I would do in her situation isn't important. You know what is, though? That she had made her choice already. I have to respect that, Verity."

"Yes," Neareida moaned, her tone echoing months of pain. (By the Shade, for how long had she been stuck there? The pirate did not even wan to imagine that.) "Yes, pirate. Grant me the gentle death I've been yearning for, and I shall reward you. You have my word. Whether it happens in this life or the next one, know that Neareida pays her debts."

"You can't save everyone," Iskra whispered, unsure whether that statement was directed to Verity, herself, or nobody at all. "That doesn't mean you can't make a difference, though." Swiftly, she dropped to her knee, and unsheathed her sword. "It brings me no pleasure to spill your blood, goddess, but I hope that, through this gate I'm opening for you, you shall be able to find a more peaceful existence. Go. Go, and enjoy your rest." Averting her gaze would have made this easier, but some things shouldn't be easy, you see? So, instead of that, Iskra met her eyes. "Goodbye," she mouthed. The blade flashed, then, its steel reflecting millions of sparks, and the pirate prepared herself for the inevitable resistance of her flesh, but... huh. There wasn't any, actually? Mostly because water burst from her body instead of blood, only for the rest of her to turn into that liquid, too. Just, what? Could a goddess not be killed through normal means? Why had Neareida thought so, then? Had they been deceived, and led to murder her for some underhanded reason? The water goddess had seemed genuine in her desire for absolution, but those could have been lies, lies, lies! Lies from which a noose could be spun, if they were unlucky enough.

"Ah," Neareida exhaled, her shock obvious, and when Iskra looked around... she could see a tiny frog standing near her feet, with sapphires instead of eyes. Oh, by the Shade! Could this be...? "I've... I've been granted a second chance, it seems. Thank you, pirate. Thank you, princess. However, may I ask you for another favor? For me to be able to return to my proper form, I have to bathe in the fountain of rebirth. Can you carry me there? I'm afraid that Layani's pawn, Sebille, has seized it, and I cannot get there on my own. My current magical capabilities are that of a dry well, I'm afraid."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

No, no, no, no, no! This is not supposed to be the way. This is not supposed to be how benevolence should be rewarded––this is not Neareida's happy ending, one the princess has projected to believe that she undoubtedly deserves for serving her followers as faithfully as they serve her. So how can Verity accept this? How can she accept that not everyone, no matter how much goodness resides within their heart, gets to experience bliss even in their last moments? The adage, Life is not fair, clearly comes to mind and aptly smacks the princess in the face, trying to force some sense into her and yet, for some reason, it is not something she will let stick. Perhaps because she has seen wicked women claim wonder and needs to be witness to an alternate end. For the sake of her own expectations of what Life should be. That goodness wins. That the heart can win out against all odds––it's the last thing she believes in. So she needs this. Needs this like she needs air.

Yet, this goddess is reduced to begging and pathetic whimpers––the princess does not need Iskra to point this out to her and yet... yet she refuses to accept this as the outcome. Her chest rises and falls with her swell of sorrow, knowing that defeat is nearer than she would care to admit. For the gods, apparently, there is no deus ex machina to save them. Nothing. Neareida's only salvation is the blade which can free her from her suffering. Even if this admission resides somewhere in the princess's soul, this only makes her sobs all the more forceful, shaking her entire body like a tree bristled by hurricane winds. (Even if Iskra's words make all the sense in the world, they do nothing to soothe the princess. In her mind, this is only more proof that she is merely a magnet for Tragedy and wherever she goes, that sage follows. Clearly, because if one were to follow all the steps that the princess has taken, they would see a trail with interment markers of Grief, destruction, famine––any horror the mind can imagine and now, the newest marker, will show her at the altar of a dying goddess. 'I am Ruination.' (Of course, this is not true. There is evidence to the contrary and, in this state, it is too difficult for the princess to remember such evidence. She cannot recall how her hand had helped the dolphins, that she had helped Eran and Saavika prove their love to the stars and even now helps them with the celebration––further back than that, she cannot recall the joy she brought to the people with her stories and poems. All of this remains shrouded in a fog as the only thing she can focus on is the dying ethereal body before her.))

Nodding in defeated agreement, Verity turns away, unable to stay with the goddess to her dying breath. ('You cannot save everyone,' Iskra says and even though there is truth, obvious truth in the phrase, it still shocks Verity. Never has she heard those words before and even as simply as they are, they swing into her chest with all the force of a freight train. Perhaps later, when she is no longer in distress, she can think on this more because as of right now, there is too much other stimulus for the words to have total effect.) When she hears water splash on the ground, followed by silence, she inhales sharply before turning around. Her eyes, hollow, lock onto Iskra and while they are still wet, they do reflect her gratitude for there was not the strength in her to carrying out the goddess's wishes––as much as she might have known this outcome was an inevitability.

Though when she hears the goddess's voice? Her eyes widen and she searches the room for Neareida, spinning around only to find that when she looks down––the goddess is there! In a new form, yes, but it is still her! Wiping the tears from her eyes and releasing the last of her sobs as they transform into surprised laughter, she gets onto her knees and scoops the goddess into her hands. "Bless the sages and Divinities, you're still here!" she exclaims, laughter still tumbling from her lips as she looks towards her companion then back at the frog. "Yes, yes, goddess we shall take you to the fountain and we shall take it back from Sebille's vile hands––she will pay for her wicked meddling, goddess."

The goddess then helps the pair navigate through the tunnels to the exit and Verity can confidently say that she is while she is always happy to feel the sun on her skin, it feels particularly refreshing after being trapped in the dank sewage system of this city. The fresh air, of course, is also a welcome smell and one that quickly washes out all the stench from earlier. Wasting no Time, however, the group makes haste towards the fountain of rebirth, located near the base of a mountain, hidden by lush greenery. Just as the goddess had warned, while this would be a holy site welcome to all under ordinary circumstances, the area is surrounded by mercenary guards who patrol the vicinity.

"The mercenaries will surely spot us should we get any closer... and I sense that Sebille is near," the goddess, who is perched on Verity's shoulder, whispers as they are crouched in the bushes.

Verity nods as she eyes the fountain, counting the mercenaries, and devising a strategy to get the goddess under the fountain––she recognizes they do not have to fight if they are quick. If they are able to restore the goddess soon, then surely her magic can change the tide of the evident altercation; especially since Layani has been banished and therefore her favor no longer blesses these shameless fools. "I do believe that we can––"

However, the princess's strategy must wait, as a hand falls onto her shoulder and turns her around so that she is looking up to face a noblewoman. The woman smiles in the way that villains tend to and her voice shares their alluring cadence, "Neareida, you have broken your chains––I admit I am surprised and while I applaud your attempt at rebirth, this is where your reign ends. You see, Neareida, the era of goddesses is over. Women no longer need you or your sisters and we shall not be bound to the whims of the goddesses any longer." Mercenaries, then, surround them as Sebille continues, this Time addressing the pirate and princess, "Surrender the goddess to me and I may be merciful and allow you to leave with your lives."
 
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A frog. Out of all the creatures associated with water, many of them oh so majestic, why had the goddess chosen a frog? They were portable enough, Iskra supposed, but they didn’t exactly inspire reverence in onlookers, though that… that might have been the entire point, now that she thought of it. Didn’t the heart yearn after that which it could not have, after all? After cold fire, and monochrome rainbow, and all the other contradictions one could reasonably conceive of? There must have been a reason why the concept was so powerful in poetry-- comparing an object to that which was not similar to it at all, and yet, yet managing to find that hidden connection somehow. Did it not say something about the human nature? (The key to satisfaction, she had discovered, was in suppressing that instinct. It may have served as the great engine of progress, yes, but what did it do for you, personally? Out of the millions who had sighed for the stars, only a few chosen ones had managed to send the humanity there, and their predecessors… their predecessors had died in disgrace, with their greatest wish unfulfilled. No, it was foolishness, plain and simple. The darkest of curses that were hanging over their heads, even! You could see it in the very doomed impulse that had led Achilles to grasp for the sun, or in moths who couldn’t help but fly towards a flame, or in… or in a goddess who thirsted for simplicity, apparently.

How curious, indeed! Such stirrings, the pirate had thought, were supposed to be reserved for mortal life forms-- for creatures suffering from all the symptoms of irrelevance, with no recourse in sight. And, to think that goddesses weren’t immune, either? That felt comforting, oddly enough. (Perhaps they weren’t so different, gods and humans and everything in between. Didn’t creators model their creation according to themselves, after all? Yes, yes! With no other point of reference, it would make sense they would look into the mirror for inspiration, which… which would mean that the Vessel had been wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Not that it mattered, with her bones resting in the soil, but prying the narrative away from her cold, dead fingers? Doing so brought Iskra pleasure greater than she could have imagined. …it could mean that she was wrong about other things as well, theoretically. The hope also could have been empty, of course, though with no way to confirm either, the pirate, at least, could dream. (Ignorance, you see, could be a pleasant home as well. When the only assurance you had was that you were a monster, not knowing just how much of one you were was a blessing, wasn’t it? In that badly defined space, with edges so, so blurry, you could imagine human parts as well-- if you closed your eyes willingly, that was.)

Either way, there was no point to these thoughts now-- Iskra could examine them later, once they returned to Inure and Neareida was safely restored. No, time was of essence now! The longer they took, the greater the risk of them being discovered, and let me tell you, they did not need more complications today. This shopping trip had been more than eventful enough already, so the pirate didn’t particularly wish to hog all the spotlight. Just, the goddess of misfortune surely must have had other victims to antagonize, right? Her whole career couldn’t depend on Verity and Iskra only, irrespective of the fact that it looked like that from time to time.

…except that, as paranoid as that theory was? Once again, its merits were becoming apparent, for Sebille, the wretched Layani’s pawn, crawled out of whatever hellhole she was dwelling in. (No, no, no, no! They couldn’t face the woman yet, dammit. With Neareida still stuck in her frog form, and with the two of them facing such an overwhelming number of opponents… no, it wasn’t difficult to analyze how this altercation would end, indeed. Blood would flow, and it wouldn’t be the blood of their enemies! Think, Iskra. Use your eyes and see. What is there for you to use? What is there for you to do? And, just like so many times before? The path emerged, even if she would have to walk on hot coals.

“Sebille,” the pirate boomed, straightening her back in the process. “I have been looking for you.” Well, no, technically not yet, though she didn’t have to know that. “Even in my own land, women tell the tales of your wickedness. It is said that you bathe in the blood of young women to preserve your beauty, and that you steal children’s dreams.” …what? Just like you wouldn’t catch fish with a rock for bait, Iskra wouldn’t attract Sebille’s attention with a dull story. And, oh, did the pirate need her not to look at what she was doing! Because, you see, behind her back, Iskra gestured at Verity to ´watch her´. “For these reasons, and many others, I have come to slay you,” she announced, as if waltzing onto someone’s private property and claiming such things was the most natural thing in the world.

Thankfully, Sebille didn’t disappoint. Her eyes widened, and then? Then she laughed, loud like a jackhammer. “Is that what they say about me? Indeed, it seems that taking care of one’s reputation pays off. But how, pray tell, do you intend to slay me, hmm?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I am planning to challenge you to a duel. Fight me on your own, Sebille, if there’s a shred of honor left in your rotten veins!” More laughter followed-- hahaha, look at this simpleton, right? Except that laughter weakened you, made you feel as if your limbs were made of jelly, really, and Iskra… Iskra used that moment to do two things. Action number one: the pirate reached into her pocket and handed protective earbuds to Verity, with the implicit recommendation to put them on. Action number two: she threw something in the midst of their enemies, and…

“Oh shit, shit, shit! A… a fucking grenade?!”

Which it sure as hell was! A sound grenade, to be specific, so a few seconds later, Iskra’s world exploded in pain, pain, pain, pain that traveled from her ears to her brain and stabbed her there like a knife-- Use this distraction, Verity, she thought, with all of her remaining strength. Swiftly!
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The odds are so obviously not in their favor that Verity would give herself a pass were she to give into despair. With so many enemies surrounding them from all sides, it would be reasonable to engage in some form of retreat strategy or even to surrender. (That is, if surrendering did not equate to the goddess's demise. Thusly, it is no viable option that the princess will even dare to consider.) However, it's not as though the princess has real cause to worry about the outcome of this fight. Even without the goddess's full powers restored and her favor being but a mere symbol of her thanks, the thought that there are obstacles that Iskra and Verity, together, cannot overcome? It never crosses Verity's mind. It's not that she assesses their skills as so beyond their adversaries that they can conquer all that stands in their path, it's just that not too long ago they did send a goddess back whence she came so the princess's confidence may be in full bloom. At the very least, she believes in their combined resourcefulness and were Iskra not already signalling that she has thought of an escape, Verity is certain she had been close to formulating a plan of her own.

Fearful that any movement will become suspect and therefore license for their opponents to attack, she moves slowly as she takes the goddess from her shoulder and holds her in her hands, close to her chest. All the while keeping a watchful eye on the mercenaries and Sebille as she does not think this is a fight that will respect what it means to be honorable. The lies that Iskra spins are convincing enough that she can tell the woman's ego has been stroked believing these are the legends of her that exist through the galaxy––as if her name could ever carry any weight off-planet. (To Verity, she doesn't seem to command enough attention to dazzle a galaxy, but clearly Iskra has picked up on her inborn Desire to be known and it is pleasing enough that Sebille is convinced. Verity would also be lying if she did not admit that this clever ruse does impress her.)

She swipes the earbuds that Iskra hands to her and cautiously places them in her ears, making sure to also cover the goddess's head for even if she does know the exact plan, the subtle hint lets her know enough that this will be a loud affair. Or, as it turns out, a pitched affair. Even if Verity cannot hear it thanks to the protection of the buds, the way in which everyone drops to their knees with their hands covering their heads and their mouths stretched wide in doubtless screams? That tells the princess everything she needs to know.

Needing no more invitation than that, she breaks into a sprint and heads straight into springs, wading towards the fountain in the center of the pool. Rainbows shine through the mist and once Verity is more or less certain that they are far enough away from the sound grenade, she plucks the earbuds from her ears and eyes the goddess in her palms, reaching out to place her under the shower. Though, interestingly, nothing happens. The frog remains. Confused, the princess looks at the goddess and wonders, "Am I to believe... that this is your new form, goddess? I mean you no offense if this is your choice, I just haven't a clue of what to expect."

"No," Neareida chuckles, not at all offended by the princess's guess, "In order for my transformation and rebirth to initiate, I must receive a kiss from one who is faithful to myself. You, princess, are a worthy such candidate, for your devotion to my cause." (Those sapphires seem to gleam with the knowingness that only goddesses and other heavenly beings possess. As if she knows that this mission became something more than just recovering a lost item for the princess.)

Shocked, though not disgusted, Verity only nods in response. She is honored to be considered worthy by a deity who has no claim to her soul and perhaps it is the fact that she has been asked to kiss a goddess (even if a frog), that she isn't sure how to proceed. But the frog waits patiently in her palms until Verity finally brings the goddess closer to her and places a chaste kiss to her lips. One would think kissing a deity would equate to automatic sparks in her chest, but such is not the case. To be honest, it's quite an anatomical kiss in nature and once it is over, almost as quickly as it had started, she places Neareida back under the shower.

At first, the water washes over the frog, splashing her in the way one would expect from a fountain; then, soon, the fountain starts to draw towards the goddess, moving in a swirl around her form. The rainbow reflection increases, brightening the surrounding area, and Verity can tell the goddess has been lifted from her palms. When she swims backwards to get a better view, she can see the silhouette of the frog surrounded in the fountain shower and she watches as that shape slowly shifts into the shape of the goddess they had seen earlier. However, this Time, the wounds that had covered her body appear completely healed, her water hair blends into the spring below, and her body, less translucent than before, is still otherworldly in a way Verity does not quite have the words to describe. Ethereal, even, seems too basic to encapsulate what she is witnessing.

Slowly, with grace, the goddess in her full form descends into the water in front of the princess. Neareida looks down at Verity, her eyes those same sapphire gems as earlier, smiles at her, and then pulls the princess into her embrace to kiss her again. This kiss, however, is far less chaste than before and the princess is not sure if this is part of her transformation (she could have sworn that it is already complete) or a blessing or perhaps for the goddess's own enjoyment. All of that remains unclear and will likely go unanswered. For once Neareida releases Verity, her eyes flash over towards the group of assailants and she barrels from the fountain back towards the shore. Lifting her arms, the goddess sends a wave over the shore that washes away the mercenaries and sound grenade, expertly avoiding the pirate as well as Sebille. With the mercenaries awash, the goddess raises her body in a waterspout and blasts Sebille with a cannon of water.

"Sebille, impudent woman, for your crimes against my being, for your greed, for challenging the pantheon, you must pay," the goddess then creates a mirror with the liquid and in it, the reflection of three young girls, all in likeness to Sebille, appear, "Tell me, Sebille, what do you value more? Your life or your legacy? Who shall you save? And know that it is no kindness that affords you this choice."
 
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Let this be a lesson, Iskra thought as the knives burrowed themselves into her skull, deeper and deeper and deeper, on the benefits of foresight. This hadn’t had to happen at all, you see? Had the pirate checked her gear before journeying into one of the unfamiliar planets, she would have come to one of the following conclusions: a) she needed to carry more protective equipment, seeing as she didn’t travel alone now, b) Verity had to be given her own gear, for toying with her life in this way was nothing short of despicable. Obvious to anyone with common sense, wasn’t it? Too bad, then, that her common sense had apparently deserted in the last great war! (Nevermind, though. Nevermind. Pain, after all, wasn’t an enemy-- pain was her truest ally, her messiah wrapped in tattered robes. Perhaps calling it a canary in the mine would be more apt, however? Because, you see, as long as Iskra shied away from it, in the same way all living things did, she could tell herself that maybe, maybe she wasn’t entirely lost. Still was there a fragment of humanity within somewhere her, and oh, it did make sense that it cut her! Shards always did, when you tried to touch them.)

If nothing else, the pirate could derive a small amount of solace from the fact that Verity wasn’t hurt. Had the earbuds not worked for her… no, the pirate wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself! (It wasn’t like she had to protect her, of course. A princess, a pirate—those titles meant nothing, effectively, when they dined on the same bland food, shared the same living quarters. No longer was she required to sacrifice her own flesh in service to another, and while that had been true for years… well, let’s just say that Iskra hadn’t accepted it in her heart of hearts before. It was easy, you see? To continue on your course as if nothing at all had changed, even if the goal you were pursuing had gone up in flames. Oh yes, yes, the momentum was a powerful force, indeed. (Water, if left to its devices, could transform the planet’s entire face-- onwards and onwards it flowed, ceaselessly, and ground everything to fine dust. And the momentum? The momentum worked according to the same principle, really! Often, you didn’t even realize you were being dragged forward. How could you, when your legs had been trained to respond to the slightest nudge? ‘Yes,’ they’d taught her to say. ‘Yes, of course, right away.’ ‘No,’ according to them, was an entirely unnecessary part of a soldier’s vocabulary. …except that she was learning, slowly but surely. They’d taken so much from her, so much of her, really, that the emptiness had to be filled with something, you see? And, to Iskra, knowledge seemed good enough for that-- in this case, both the knowledge that she didn’t have to protect the princess, and that she wanted to regardless. For what reason, though? That, at least, she couldn’t tell.)

The echo of the explosion fractured itself, over and over and over-- each time a little less painful, sure, but considering that the difference between ‘a small knife in your head’ and ‘a big knife in your head’ wasn’t all that great, Iskra found it somewhat difficult to locate her optimism. Just!!! When would this torture end? Myrne had invented this particular grenade, so she guessed she could congratulate her subordinate for her scientific triumph, but being on the receiving side… well, let’s just say that the pirate wasn’t exactly eager to praise the woman right now.

Then, as if her suffering wasn’t deep enough already, she saw it. It, of course, being Verity and Neareida! The goddess had returned to her former glory, which, good, awesome, even, but why was she standing so close to her princess? Why was she cupping her cheek, and why did her lips… oh. Oh, indeed. (Two women, embracing one another-- the very definition of contrast, really. The mortal versus the divine, light versus and dark, experience versus innocence, and dozens of other things Iskra couldn’t think of at the moment, most likely. In other words, painters would cry from happiness if they were able to paint this scene! …the issue was, though, that Iskra wasn’t a painter.) Fury ripped through her, wild like a summer storm, but why? Why, why, why?! The princess was a free woman, and thus could kiss whoever she wanted to. What the pirate thought about it didn’t factor into it at all, and besides, it was strange to even have any opinion on what had transpired among them in the first place. (Were Neareida’s lips soft? What about her touch? Did it resemble gentle summer rain, perhaps, caressing your skin? Would Verity bloom underneath it, in the same way the seemingly dead flowers awakened after each winter? …because with Iskra, you see, the princess was dead. No wonder, no wonder! Death, too, was contagious, and with someone as devoid of life as she was, Verity had been doomed to end up like this from the very beginning. Wasn’t it better for her, then, that she got to awaken like this? Should the pirate not be happy for her? Oh, sure, she should, she should! …the beast that gnawed at her stomach wasn’t, though. It bit, and tore her flesh, and Iskra-- Iskra had to look away, for she could bear the sight no longer.)

Sebille, meanwhile, was not having a good time. “Curse you!” she shouted. Somehow, even at the mercy of the goddess, the woman seemed defiant-- unbent, unbroken. A lone warrior that was still standing, even amidst a terrible storm. “I shall not choose, and you will not make me. My life is my legacy and my legacy is my life, and that you don’t understand this only proves how disconnected from reality you are. You may kill me, Neareida, but you will not kill your own irrelevance. Your time is over, do you hear me? We do not need gods anymore! You are… you are a relic. A product of a time that had passed already, and will never return.”

Mirthlessly, Iskra returned to Verity’s side. (Why wouldn’t the memory go away? Whenever she looked at the princess, she could see her yielding to Neareida, swept up in the moment, and--) “Did you like it?” the pirate blurted out, for reasons she did not fully understand. “I’m just, ah, curious. I have never kissed a goddess, you know, so… yes. My interest is of academic nature.”
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

If the first kiss with the goddess had been something like kissing a pet or saying goodnight to your mothers, then the second kiss had been like receiving all of the Cosmos's eternal blessings. No, even that is a paltry comparison. To say that sparks had flown overhead or that, suddenly, the entire meaning of Life had revealed itself in that moment, or even comparing it to the joy of rain after endless drought, would not be enough. The only thing she can say with certainty, is that she feels rejuvenated somehow––almost electrified. In her lightheaded state, the princess has trouble homing in on exactly what she had experienced and, for the most part, her thought process has mostly dedicated itself to wondering if Neareida had enjoyed it just as thoroughly. A silly thing for her to wonder while they still have a few more loose ends to tie together, and can you really blame Verity for losing herself for a moment?

Eventually, of course, the princess recovers and when she does, she is not sure if seconds or years have passed in her momentary mental absence. She blinks a few Times, as if to clear the lingering fog, then wades back over to the shore to rejoin the pirate and the goddess. On the shore, she watches the altercation between Neareida and Sebille and her nose wrinkles in distaste at the woman's utter defiance and disrespect. 'How can such a sick woman still stand?' Before this excursion she had thought that a universal truth that transcends planets, if not galaxies, is the supreme nature of the divine. For how can woman expect to fill the roles meant only for Divinities and sages to occupy? It seems laughable to her, for only one whose soul is so far gone would have such arrogance to believe they are greater than the goddesses. (In that, Verity has peace knowing she is not like those women.)

The goddess, unimpressed though seemingly not surprised with Sebille's answer, frowns. "Very well, Sebille. Let us see how much sorrow it takes for you to drown," Neareida whispers, restraining the woman with chains of water as two tendrils wriggle into Sebille's ears and fill her head with visions. Based on the woman's expression? It's assumed she experiences whatever visions that she sees and soon her eyes are wells of water.

Though that all becomes background noise to the princess as the pirate joins her once more and Verity has to resist the urge to pin her to a tree and show her how thankful she is for her stroke of brilliance. The question that she asks, actually, helps quell all those desires and suddenly, her cheeks are blossoming at the memory. "Ah," she sighs, eyes sweeping back over to the fountain where it had happened. "Well, the first was a bit lackluster and I cannot say it would have even been that memorable save for the fact that it was with a goddess. Certainly the first Time I have ever kissed a frog." Her hand rests on her heart as she thinks of the second kiss, then it travels to her lips, still able to feel the odd sensation of kissing a celestial woman. "I shall never forget the moment that our lips met for the second time. It was as if the cosmos were breathed into me and I understood, with such certainty, that I had never been kissed before. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that a goddess's kiss could be so, hm, Life changing." (Arguably, a certain kiss of hers, shared with a certain pirate, may be considered Life altering as well when one considers all the facts. However, that clearly is so far from the princess's mind that she doesn't even think to spare Iskra any of these savory details. Were she to remember how their only kiss left them, she might have chosen to keep her answer brief.)

"Though I do wonder if it at all compares to true love's first kiss––" the princess starts, tapping her chin thoughtfully just before the aforementioned goddess appears before them, no longer upheld by a water cyclone. Just over Neareida's shoulder, all that remains of Sebille are her empty clothes, soaking in a puddle that might have been a woman once.

"Pirate and princess, I do hope that you will forgive my outburst," she says, seeming somewhat bashful, "and I must thank you for your assistance with that villain. She has been a plague on the goddesses for so long, it was only a matter of time before she became emboldened. For your help, you shall be rewarded. As I understand the spirits have promised you your sword, princess?" and with that, the goddess swishes her hand through the air and Gwenwyn appears in her grip, gleaming under the last rays of the double sun. In size and shape, it appears as any other double-edged shortsword. However, whatever steel has been used to forge this weapon must be unique to Verity's planet for the layers make it look as though it holds many colors, and depending on the angle of the blade, the color shifts; like weilding a rainbow rather than a sword. The other notable feature would be the pommel, which is shaped to look like a boar's head.

Eagerly, the princess takes her sword from the goddess, fastens it to her free hip, then bows her head, ready to accept that as their only payment. Though before Verity can even speak to suggest as such, Neareida continues, "On my honor, I cannot send you off with your only thanks being a sword that was never mine to have and hold. So, pirate and princess, how many Neareida, the water goddess, aide you in your quests? I can grant wishes, riches, wisdom, what do your hearts desire?"

"I want to know the location of the ancient tortoises––they haven't been spotted in centuries and I want to meet one," Verity responds, apparently needing no moment to deliberate on the matter as her earnest answer reveals what she so wants.

"Hmm," the goddess thinks, then pulls something from beneath her cloak––a mirror? "Allow me to give you more than just that. Take this mirror and you shall not only be able to find the creatures that you seek, you will also be able to see anything that your heart desires. Be it people or places," she hands the princess the mirror and then turns to the pirate,"And for you, pirate?"
 
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Have you ever played with fire? Have you ever touched the flame of a candle, perhaps, knowing that it would hurt you but still wanting to try? And, if you have, have you maybe thought that things would be different, for some reason? That the universe’s laws would bend over backwards and that you’d emerge out of the fire unscathed, like the legendary phoenix? Well, Iskra had. Iskra had, and, spoiler alert-- it did not work out. No more than sticking a snowball into a hearth and expecting it to survive, really.

(Verity hadn’t asked for the kiss. Of that, at least, the pirate was fairly certain-- touchy feely as the princess might have been, she also knew the complicated dance of etiquette, and thus wouldn’t have skipped all those important steps in between ‘meeting someone’ and ‘demanding a kiss from her.’ No, this must have been something that Neareida herself had initiated, inspired by stirrings entirely foreign to Iskra. So, what did that mean? Why, of course, that Verity may not have wanted this! Perhaps the goddess had simply asked for it as a sacrifice, and the princess, ever dutiful, had obeyed. Not that the captain understood what it was that Neareida could have gained from the act of their lips touching, though that mattered very little. Far it be from her, after all, to question a goddess’ intentions! To a being woven out of arcane energies, kisses might have been what food was to a human-- once, you see, Iskra had read something about ‘sparks’ supposedly flying when you kissed someone dear to you, and that could easily hint at the presence of some sort of fuel. Combustion, right? A-anyway, if Verity had only done this out of some misplaced sense of duty, then… uh. Then what, actually? Would it bring Iskra relief? …yes, and an immense one at that. She had no right to feel this way, of course-- as alluring as her lips were, with their softness that rivaled cherry petals, the pirate had no right to claim them. She could claim nothing for herself, in fact. Who had ever heard of a sword owning anything, huh? A blade was an object, and, as such, it could only ever belong to someone. The reverse of that… no, that would be a sacrilege, much like the idea of water flowing backwards. Water flowing backwards, or life being born from death, or a blade treating injuries, or… or… well, you got the idea. Besides, if Verity had found some joy in the act, shouldn’t Iskra be happy for her?)

The answer to that, of course, was yes. Sad was the woman who couldn’t celebrate her friend’s accomplishments, after all, and surely, surely the captain wasn’t this petty! (Upon seeing a butterfly’s wings, you know, with all its bright colors, there was no point to drowning in jealousy, was there? The correct reaction was to smile and marvel: ‘Ah, what a beautiful world it is that I am allowed to live in!)

‘…and I understood, with such certainty, that I had never been kissed before,’ Verity said then, and each word ended up lodged in her heart, like tiny shards of glass. (Well, that was… um. One way of looking at what had happened among them, certainly. An objectively incorrect way, one might be tempted to say, but who was she to judge such things? It wasn’t like Iskra knew how to kiss, after all! Clumsily, she had pressed her lips against Verity’s, and put her filthy hands on her, and hoped for those sparks to fly-- for that fabled something, so often described in stories. Why call it a kiss, even? Monsters weren’t capable of such things, anyway. Their fangs were too sharp, their claws too long, and… and besides, there wasn’t a single person in the whole wide world who would yearn to be kissed by something as depraved, Iskra would wager. …yes, not even someone. Something. A few letters, a world of difference. Was Verity trying to save her new friend's face, perhaps? With her denial, was she effectively saying 'oh sweetie, you didn't mean for that to be a kiss, right?' Maybe, but maybe not. Regardless of where the truth lay, though, the princess's statement had given Iskra exactly what she had needed-- namely, a sign. ...a sign that, just like all the others, instructed her to stay away. Very well, then.) “Right,” the pirate said, finally. (It was difficult to meet her gaze, for a reason she didn't wish to examine.) “Never. I am glad, at least, that your experience has been a good one. Perhaps you shall one day tell your daughters of this, and they will envy you for holding perfection in your arms.” Perfection that wasn't her, which, duh, but--

Neareida. Neareida who wished to reward her, even if she'd reduced her entire world to cinders. What, exactly, should she ask of her? For her to cease to exist? Somehow, the pirate didn't think such a request would be received with understanding. "I was glad I could support your cause," Iskra heard herself say, mechanically. "As for what I wish for in return... Neareida, great water goddess, if you peered into my soul, you'd know I do not dream anymore. I have my mission, yes, but I know not desire. And since my mission is a cross I alone have to bear... I want nothing from you. Nothing."

At that, Neareida's eyebrow shot up. "Are you sure, pirate? I see your soul, as clear as a day, and I wouldn't say it's barren of desire. Perhaps you've just forgotten what it looks like...?"

Instantly, Iskra's walls went up, with her jaw clenching on its own. Just, why did people presume to know her own heart better than she did?! "Yes, I am quite sure. I do live inside of my own head, after all."

"I see," Naereida said, her voice a sorrowful song. "However, know that I cannot let you go without a reward-- my honor as a goddess would be tarnished. We shall do it differently, alright? I, Naereida, promise to come to your aid in your hour of peril. Call upon me, pirate, and I shall appear."

As if, Iskra thought, with no small amount of bitterness. Outwardly, though? Bowing deeply, she placed her hand on her heart. "Thank you, goddess, for your mercy." Then, she supposed, it was time to move on. They still had that shopping trip to take care of, didn't they? A shopping trip for a wedding, of all things. Good grief!

"The envious stars," Iskra said suddenly, after they'd walked in silence for a while. "I suppose I am like them, in a way. I mean, I can never know love, either, so it's no wonder I cannot get properly excited." ...and also why she couldn't be too thrilled about Verity's success, most likely. Not that she'd share that with her, of course. "It's... I don't know. Like describing colors to someone who cannot see. Still, for their sake, I should try to banish my skepticism. What do you recommend, Verity? How do I honor their bond, with this distance in my heart?"
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Verity has no choice but to roll her eyes when the pirate captain claims to be barren of Desire. Though she is still only at the beginning of her studies on the wonders that exist within Iskra's head, and thus has only barely begun to truly understand the pirate before her, this is not the first Time she has heard Iskra make such silly claims. Once, as she recalls, the pirate had claimed that she is full of dead soil. Many more instances have informed Verity that the captain sees herself as a mere piece of metal that can take the shape of a sword or a shield depending on the wielders needs––that, unfortunately, is about as interesting as the pirate's assessments of herself go. The princess cannot objectively agree with any of these assertions as she has seen evidence that the pirate is more than dead soil or steel.

'A woman so full of Life and all she sees are her Deaths,' though she cannot really blame Iskra, she supposes. For if she had died as many Times as Iskra, would she count her Life for all she has lived or would she only remember all the Times she has died? Given that the revival is, apparently, no straightforward process (involving some 'shade') perhaps she would ruminate on her likeness to that which is disaffected by Death. Even so, she cannot help but to want to pull Iskra from that abysmal abyss, for that is no way to live and perhaps if she were shown how to live, she would understand what her Life's desires are? A curious question to ponder and one that she will have to return to frequently if she is to be successful in figuring out who Iskra might be without all her shackles. Especially since she hasn't really a clue of what would spark such Desires––and really, outside of the battlefield, the princess has only ever seen her so engaged when they are in conversation, but one cannot live for the simple joy of conversation... can they? 'Hmm, I suppose so, but surely there has to be more joys in the captain's Life or maybe even ones she has yet to discover.'

As they part from the spring, Verity bows her head and offers her thanks to the goddess. Now that they are back on course to purchase the few remaining items for the wedding, easily, the princess shifts her mind from their prior activities to this one. As if they had not just spent a few hours chasing after her sword or that she hadn't just been kissed by a goddess. Okay, well, perhaps that is something that still lingers in the back of her mind but it is still pushed to the side in favor of her earlier debate regarding how much alcohol to provide for the wedding. Plus, she had wanted to pick out some fabrics for a dress and she still needs to purchase part of her gift for the newly weds.

So while her mind thinks of the market and which stalls she will visit once they hit the square, it is clear the pirate is thinking of a much different topic. Raising a brow, she eyes the pirate with her mouth open in shock. "Whatever do you mean that you cannot know love?" she asks, in a tone that suggests what the pirate has said is utter blasphemy. And given who Verity is, as a person, it is likely that she truly believes Iskra has spoken sacrilegiously. "Love is the experience that binds all Life together throughout the Cosmos and I have never met a woman incapable of such feelings. I simply cannot accept what you are saying, captain."

(And if Iskra believes she is incapable of experiencing love... what other implications does this have? The princess could have sworn she had stolen the pirate's affections as much as the pirate had stolen her own, so how can Iskra miss that? Or has Verity just sorely misread all the signs and looked too deeply into all of their interactions? If true, the princess will likely have to hide herself away for a month to recover from such embarrassment. Not that she has acted too scandalously with her feelings. After all, she still has her hesitancies around pursuing Iskra in earnest, but she knows it's rather obvious how she feels. Even if she has tried to tell herself her affections run no deeper than friendship. That farce had lasted for a good hour, at least.)

The princess debates bringing up their own shared past and decides against it, for she isn't certain she wants to hear what Iskra might think of that Time. Especially with how it ended. Sometimes it is best to let the dead rest. "I do not disagree that you are like a star, Iskra, but to liken yourself to the envious ones, because you have put a blindfold over yourself, is utterly foolish. Perhaps you just have yet to experience love, Iskra? Perhaps... Perhaps you just have a heart that waits until she is ready to beat wildly for someone else, you know?" and maybe that someone can be a certain princess, "I just cannot accept that you have no room for love and to be loved. I know that my Divinities are not the ones who made your essence, but I cannot imagine that yours would leave out this vital piece, for love is a binding thread."

Then as her mind hops to related topics, she asks, "Have you ever considered how it is a feeling with such an abstract definition? I mean, if one were to ask you to define it what would you say? And would your definition even match my own? Or Myrne's or Halen's? Doubtfully, yet that does not make our experiences of love untrue. Perhaps you just do not know how to search for what love feels like to you?" At that point, Verity realizes that Iskra had not brought up this topic to hear what she has to say on the subject of love and had meant to seek advice on what to get the happy couple. Right. "Sorry for boring you with my thoughts on the subject," because most haven't really been interested to hear what a princess has to say on love, "I got carried away."

As they enter the market, still as crowded as when they had left, she smells the flowers from one vendor, runs her fingers over the fabric in another stall, and grabs a sample of dried meat from another. "Perhaps you can give them an experience? Something that will live in their memories for all the years to come? Gifts do not always have to be tangible, after all, so maybe taking them to some special place could work? Eran seems as though she would appreciate that," Saavika, on the other hand, she isn't quite sure. She doesn't know the woman all too well and so far she has gathered that she likes explosions and shinies. "Personally, I was going to stick with the customs of my people and gift them jewels and some massage oils known for heightening pleasure."
 
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Of course that you can’t, Iskra thought, bitterly. With you, it’s always like this. Trying to explain anything to the stubborn princess? Why, you might as well attempt to dry a sea with a thimble, or dig a grave with a fork! (Infuriating, truly. It wasn’t that the pirate didn’t understand how difficult it was to free yourself of the context of your own perspective, but could she not at least try? Could she not, if not else, consider that her experiences might not have been universal? They’d been colored by her gaze, touched by her hand, and… and those couldn’t have been more different than those of Iskra’s, really. How did she not see that? Was Verity trying to mock her, perhaps? Because, to her, it felt as if she was an eagle who asked a fish why, pray tell, she did not soar the skies! …maybe the pirate was being uncharitable, though. Not every swing aimed at her was a vicious attack-- sometimes, it was just a person stretching their limbs, and hitting her in the process. Now, could she blame her for accidentally touching one of her wounds? No, surely not. …at least not when her entire body was covered in them, from head to toe.)

“Whether you accept it or not,” she began, “actually matters very little, Verity. You may also deny that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but such a statement wouldn’t make it any less true-- the only thing it would accomplish would be to brand you as a fool.” No, wait! This pattern felt familiar, didn’t it? Iskra remembered following such a path in the past, and it had only led down, down, down, right into the abyss, where no stars shone and despair ruled supreme. (Suffocating, that was what it was like. In that depraved, godforsaken place, words had turned into thorns, and friends into enemies. Was the pirate that hungry for pain that she yearned to return there, actually? To wrap herself in darkness again, and let the bandages around her wounds rot in peace? …rot, you see, could smell so, so sweetly! Like the flowers that grew in a graveyard, drawing nourishment from the broken bodies underneath.)

“Forgive me for my outburst, princess,” the pirate looked downwards. (Automatically, her fingers found the strap of some trinket the local shopkeeper was selling, and started to fiddle with it. Re-directing her energy somewhere else should work just fine, right? That way, her mind would remain sharp-- free of the nervous buzzing that threatened to send her over the edge. …that, you see, was one place where the captain didn’t want to end up. If she fell now, everything they’d built together would be shattered as a result, and… and Iskra wasn’t sure whether they could rebuild it again. Not when the cracks from the last fallout were visible still, anyway.) “I didn’t intend to insult you. It’s just that… well. Hearing you dismiss it like that rubs me the wrong way, you know? I have spent most of my life thinking about this, and trust me, I have not taken it lightly. Many of my nights have been sleepless because of this very thing. And yet, five seconds after me confiding in you, you dare to deny it this hotly? Without the access to information that might convince you otherwise?” …without the access to information that only Iskra could provide, to be precise. The question was, did she want to? Could she, even?

No other way to find out but try, I suppose. “Me not having met anyone who might make my heart sing is not the problem,” the pirate sighed. “I just…” By the Shade, why was it so difficult to say? ‘I am not human.’ Four words, and not even very complicated ones! (…and yet, yet they felt like nails in her throat, long and sharp and made of steel. Don’t be a coward, Iskra, she told herself. Verity knowing will change exactly nothing. Nothing, of course, aside from them finally reaching some sort of understanding. Wasn’t it worth it, having to expose herself like this?) “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to explain it, that is.” The initial question? You know, the one about how to honor Eran and Saavika’s wedding? That concern seemed to be entirely forgotten-- no longer was Iskra paying attention to the merchandise, nor was she trying to pretend otherwise.

“Those like me cannot know love, Verity. The undying ones, I mean. I have been promised to the Shade, and so I can’t belong to anyone else. It would be unfair to that hypothetical person, for so many reasons.” Who would, after all, be happy with someone like her? A woman incomplete, a shadow of a self that had never even existed? (Definitely not a princess, used to the best of the best. Going from crown jewels to a common rock would have been a rough awakening, would it not? Provided that, of course, Verity had ever been interested in the first place! Presumptuousness, too, could be a kind of poison.) “The Shade,” Iskra continued, suddenly unable to stop herself now that the topic had been breached, “is the entity that is keeping me alive. It’s not me, not necessarily, but I do carry it within me. All the soldiers from our division did. I have told you before that the resurrection isn’t free, have I not? Well, the price that I pay is myself. Piece by piece, I have to give myself to it,” or rather, it takes me, “and… and that’s why I can’t give myself to anyone else, really. There’s not enough of me left. Nobody should have to deal with being offered mere breadcrumbs, right?” the pirate chuckled, mirthlessly-- more than anything else, it resembled the sound of a coffin being opened. “Besides,” she added, “I don’t know when the Shade will claim me for good. I’d wager it will happen relatively soon, though-- for a Seed, I am quite old as is. Ancient, actually.”
 
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