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

Once upon a time, Iskra thought, I believed that she understood me. Yes, believed! As in, past tense. That faith had been ridiculous from the very beginning, of course-- as ridiculous as thinking that a rat would grow wings, or that flowers would sprout from the cold, rotting corpse of her heart. Still, hearing Verity misunderstand so wildly? That put things into a new perspective, sort of. The princess's gaze, you see, was set on the stars, and those stars guided her step. The same stars also blinded her, though. For their radiance, she saw not the chains wrapped around Iskra's feet-- saw not that she was sinking, sinking, sinking, and dirt was pouring into her mouth. How did that old proverb go? 'The one who is sated does not grasp a starving woman's plight?' Something like that, yes, if her memory served correctly, and... well. Of course that Verity wouldn't understand! (...she had never had to pass that threshold, only to watch herself become less and less and less. No monsters chased her, eager for the taste of her flesh. Was there even a point in looking back, really, when you existed with such a deep sense of security? When the sun shone in the sky, you needed not to look up to confirm it-- by its grace, everything was bathing in light. ...except that, you know, there was no sun for Iskra. No sun, and also no sky.)

"How do you know?" the pirate asked, with barely restrained anger coloring her voice. "That I'm not a thing, I mean. You speak as if all the mysteries of this universe revealed themselves to you, princess, but your words ring hollow. You accuse me of underestimating your intelligence, and then you have the nerve to treat me like this?" ('Don't,' some voice within reprimanded her. 'You mustn't. Make yourself small, remember? Not a bother, not an inconvenience. This is-- this is--' 'A woman who killed me,' Iskra responded, with no small amount of bitterness, 'as she claimed my lips. I owe nothing to her.' Oh yes, yes, yes. The pirate still knew not what Verity was to her, but the one thing she was certain of? That the gift of her obedience no longer belonged to her, and she didn't have to listen to these ridiculous, unfounded claims. Not without objections, anyway. Theoretical discussions were one thing-- on that battlefield, the captain would relent gladly, when presented with a convincing argument at least. Here, though? When they were talking about her very life, which Verity obviously hadn't lived a day of? Hearing her speak of it as if she somehow knew better set her blood aflame.)

"As if I'm entirely mindless, and have been waiting for all these years for someone to tell me what I am. But, princess, trust me-- I know. I know, and I know far better than you ever will. I've watched myself become what I am. You, on the other hand? You haven't even asked. What do you know about me, other than the fact that I cannot die? When you look at me, what do you see? Me, or a picture of myself that you've painted in your mind?" The words were becoming more and more acidic, more and more searing, but they had to be released-- for, surely, had they remained in her throat, they would have burned her from the inside. (Just, how did Verity not get it? Assumptions were poison, along with confidence, and she was drinking it so greedily! As if death tasted sweet on her tongue, like honey instead of wormwood.)

"And," the pirate continued, still as fiery, "perhaps I simply enjoy not learning these things. Have you not thought of that? My dignity isn't for sale, princess. It's all I have, so I shan't trample all over it." Because, if nothing else, Iskra wasn't a liar! She also wasn't stupid, though, so when the voices of the shark-women reached them, her mind immediately switched to the defense mode. Swiftly, the pirate drew her blade. (The water resisted her, as if it was in cahoots with its inhabitants, but frankly? It didn't scare Iskra. ...death, after all, was a journey. So what if it led her to a place she didn't like? All her life, the pirate had dwelled in darkness, and even losing herself completely couldn't be worse than that.)

"Halt!" a shark warrior shouted. "You belong to us now, seekers. Surely, you wouldn't deprive us of that pleasure?"

"Go," Iskra pushed Verity forward, perhaps with greater force than was strictly necessary. "Go, go, go! I'll join you shortly." ...if she survived, that was. Blindly, the captain turned around, and-- ahhh! The blade of her sword sank into their enemy's chest, as easily as if it slid into mud instead. How had she gotten this close already? Iskra's ears hadn't registered a thing! Blood was rising from the woman's wound now, in these smoke-like patterns, which...

"Ah, there you are. Thank you for marking your location for us so kindly, dear seeker. Now, shall we feast?"

In your dreams, Iskra thought. With one elegant move, she pulled the sword out and stabbed another combatant. Immediately afterwards, she used her body to bounce forward, closer to the surface, in other words, and that probably saved her life. (Had she stayed there for a second longer? The spears that materialized seemingly out of nowhere would have pierced her chest, undoubtedly.) Just a little more. Come on, come on, come on! Every muscle in her body screamed, screamed and threatened to rupture, but Iskra pressed on, with adrenaline singing this wild melody in her head, and-- aaargh. A red stain was suddenly blooming on her waist, alarmingly large. The pain almost blinded her, too, but still she swam, not caring to find out which of these sharks had mutilated her. Not when the knowledge would be bought with additional injuries!

Panting loudly, Iskra finally emerged-- her dolphin allowed her to climb its back, which she did, oh so thankfully. For the first time, her gaze fell on her injury, which... damn. Damn, that was a big one! Nothing the Shade couldn't repair, of course, but it was safe to say that nobody could expect anything from her now combat-wise. In fact, the way her head was spinning? Just holding onto her consciousness was an effort! "Princess," Iskra said, sounding as if she was about to pass out, "do you... do you have a rope? Something I could use to tie myself to the dolphin. In case I... I fall asleep." Yes, fall asleep! A wonderful, wonderful diversion tactic, she was sure.
 
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♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

While angry disbelief still rages within the prisoner, she knows there is no Time left to continue this argument if they ever hope to actually restore the foremother. There is no telling whether or not these shark-women will complete the task once they have undoubtedly feasted on their flesh. For the first time since they have known each other, Verity listens to Iskra and obeys her command for the simple fact that she knows she is more of a risk in this situation than an asset. (Again, if she had her blade then she most definitely would have stayed behind, because the thought of leaving Iskra alone now that she knows how reckless she is with her Life is not a comforting one.)

With her biological defenses still on display, she rushes towards the exit with the glowing crystal tucked beneath her arm. 'Sages, protect Iskra––do not let her succumb to another Death,' she pleads as she trudges forward. Worry grips her and she does make the mistake of turning back once to look at her companion––even if Iskra is still sinking her blade into their enemies with precision and grace, Verity still frets. Perhaps Iskra is a one woman army and she should have nothing to Fear, but from the sound of how many of those followers were pursuing them, even she knows there is a limit to how fast one can swing a blade––under water or not. Still, she is of little use to her partner and, at the end of this, she knows Iskra would want her to complete the task rather than risk a total failure. Verity even wants to the complete the task––if Iskra is lost, then she should not spit on her image by dying by her side and letting those dolphins pass along with them.

Once she exits the passage, she calls to their dolphin steads with a whistle and nearly as fast as lightning, the creatures respond. While a few shark women are coming at the entrance, likely with the hope that they can corner the two seekers, the dolphins manage to scare them off––after all, Verity had been right that dolphins are like the knights of the ocean. She mounts the leader and waits with bated breath for the captain to emerge. Unfortunately when she does, Verity is not filled with triumph but with alarm as she spots the ink-like trail of blood coming from Iskra's abdomen. She has the half-thought to ask if Iskra is once again dying, but decides to hold that thought when her companion asks for something to secure herself to her stead.

"Oh," she whispers, searching her person for something that might work. Her fingers roam her clothing, around her waist, where her knotted belt rests, and she quickly unties the accessory. Normally, she would trust the captain with this task, but given how distant her voice sounds, Verity decides to fasten her to her dolphin herself. She also does not leave the captain's side and has her dolphin match the pace of Iskra's, keeping an eye on her so that she does not topple over––it's not like her belt is a proper safety measure.

Though the shark-women do try and chase after them, their steads are swift and in short time they break through depths of the ocean and soar back into space. Though the comfort of escape is not theirs with another trap in front of them. Unfortunately, once they arrive under the safety of the stars, Verity notices a familiar ship waiting for their appearance. The ship looks strikingly like Inure with the only major difference being that this ship is pearl-colored whereas the other is opalescent. She clenches her jaw together and looks at Iskra, "Um, I..." She doesn't even know how to explain this situation to the captain and eventually decides to stay quiet, seeing if they can squeak past the ship unnoticed. On the slim chance that she is successful, then she doesn't have to explain how she had planned to escape. (Though the prisoner knows that is a longshot, especially with the tracker attached to her very person and even if she were to discard it now, it is likely too late.)

Naturally, the chance of that happening is incredibly slim and Verity should not have even entertained it as a possibility. Just as she's trying to dip them below the sight-line of the bridge, two ropes of light shoot out from the ship and one wraps around Verity's waist while the other loops around Iskra. Muttering a string of curses under her breath, she turns to Iskra, "Let me handle this, captain. I know who this ship belongs to and I know exactly how to handle this." Which is kind of a lie in the sense Verity has no idea how she is going to untangle them both from this mess, but she is certain that she will. Somehow.

Once they're at the railing of the ship, a section of it drops allowing them both to be pulled onto the deck. Immediately Verity is surrounded by her women, who generally ignore Iskra once she's pulled from her dolphin; they embrace their princess and phrases like, "Princess! We were worried sick about you once you were taken by those pirates!", "Princess Halen has been searching Diligently for you," and "Are you hurt? Have you been taken care of?" However, little of that reaches the exiled's ears and she looks across the deck, her gaze locking on Halen who appears disinterested in this event as she leans against the mast, with her hands in her pockets.

Verity gives a polite smile to her women and excuses herself from their rain of affection. The exiled isn't sure if her heart has stilled or if it's beating so wildly that she does not feel it at all. Either way, she is not sure how to carry herself when she is finally in front of the other princess. Though the blonde takes that mystery away; despite her icy demeanor, she wraps her arms around Verity with so much force she's pretty sure that Halen might be trying to crack her ribs. "Halen, please––you're crushing me," she gasps, trying to return her friend's enthusiasm though it is lackluster.

The other princess holds on for a few more seconds before releasing her missing friend. While her eyes reveal her relief, she still looks unimpressed with this stunt––the stunt being Verity waiting for long to trigger the homing beacon. "What took you so long, Verity?" The older woman (though not by much––even if she acts otherwise), looks over Verity's shoulder back at Iskra. "And who is this? Don't tell me you're still chasing your fantasies. I would have hoped that getting captured would have made you wiser, but," and she looks pointedly at the pirate, assuming what has transpired between Verity and the other, "it seems you are still searching for yourself in the heart of another." She pauses, then grabs onto the exiled's shoulders, her gaze softening some, "I am glad you are safe and back with your people. I have updates for you regarding the Restoration and some developments with Seraphina. But I understand you must be tired, so you are welcome to retire and we can discuss this in the morning. I will take care of the pirate for you."

Verity looks at Halen with confusion, because no part of her wants to be wrapped up back in this supposed revolution. Yes, she had sent for Halen when she finally signalled her after Iskra's murder––however, back then she had been under the assumption that her purpose on Inure was complete and that by staying there she would only whither. And now with their current task not yet completed, she has no intention of returning. Not at this moment anyway. "I..." a fire seems to start in the princess, but it dies in a matter of seconds. "This is Inure's current captain, Iskra," (Halen does not look pleased with the suggestion that Iskra is a legitimate commander of Celestia's ship) "And we are working on restoring the foremother of those dolphins you pulled us from. So if you would please let us complete our mission, I can be sure––"

"No, absolutely not, princess," Halen interrupts, her tone stern and daring Verity to challenge her authority. She shakes her head and lets go of the exiled and decides to turn her attention to the bleeding pirate––walking over to her with Verity in hot pursuit. "Iskra, I presume? Since Princess Verity has failed to introduce us, I am Princess Halen. Though your Time with us appears limited as it is," she eyes Iskra's wound, "I will not bother speeding up your execution, as that is or would be your punishment for threatening our princess. Are there burial rites common among your people that you would like us to honor? Unlike pirates, we respect those who die in our care." She pauses a moment, then decides to relent some, "However, I am feeling generous today––perhaps that is just Verity's effect on us all––so I will grant medical treatment, in exchange you surrender Inure."
 
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Round and round her head spun, and so, so wildly-- blood was still leaking from her wound, too, and claimed a larger territory for itself with each passing second. Oh, how sticky it was! Sticky and warm, and entirely gross to her fingers. A more unpleasant version of sweat, really. (Yes, Iskra had stuck her hand into the wound. So what? With no bandages, one had to look for alternative solutions, and this at least slowed the flow down. ...still, by the Shade, was it strange! Sensing the echoes of her own heartbeat through her fingers, with its signal amplified thousandfold. Somehow, it reminded her that she wasn't dead, you see? That the machinery of her body still worked, aimlessly, much like a satellite that had been sent on a mission and then promptly forgotten about. Even without the watchful eyes, it obeyed its programming, and... well. What else was there to do, really? With no purpose, the vastness of the space would only devour you that much faster. No, no, there was wisdom in following the established pattern-- even if that pattern was but smoke and mirrors, a shining fata morgana against the black sky. Not a thing, huh, Iskra thought, so bitterly. You know nothing, princess. That will never change, either, for you prefer to dwell in your own fantasies.) With the kind of strength only desperation ever lent you, she gripped her dolphin harder-- the belt held her in place, sort of, but Iskra was afraid to lean on it with her full weight. So, so easily could the leather snap! And if it did, not even the Shade would save her. Powerful as the entity was, it couldn't compete with the universe itself, with its tendrils made of gravity, and... wait. Wait, what? Was she sinking into unconsciousness, and seeing what wasn't there? Feeling what wasn't there, too, for this strange force began to pull her off the course.

"Verity?" Iskra mumbled, propriety outside of her reach. "Verity, what is... what is happening? Am I to fight?" (Fight, fight, fight. What else could possibly be required of her, anyway? A music box was meant to play music, a puppet to dance according to its master's whims, and Iskra... Iskra to kill, just like she'd been ordained to. To the Shade they'd promised her, and the Shade was what? Emptiness. Nothingness so vast and dark, in truth, that it served as the universe's mirror-- gods looked inside of it and saw themselves, primal and merciless and hungry. Hungry, most of all! Which was why it craved blood, for nothing made you feel more alive than spilling it. ...ah, the beautiful, beautiful ruby red. Would her blade be bathing in it again, and singing its usual song?)

Except that the princess didn't seem to think this a good idea. No, supposedly, she 'knew what she was doing.' Very well, then! A few more minutes to recover, Iskra supposed, couldn't hurt. Graceful Shade, she focused on the dark stain inside of her mind, give me more of your strength, so that I may serve faithfully. Heal my wounds, so that I may inflict more of them. Repair this shell, I beg of you, so that it may give itself to destruction. Retreating so deep into herself, the pirate barely noticed where exactly they were being pulled-- till she was being released, that was. "...Inure?" Iskra whispered, with her eyes wide like saucers, but, no, that wasn't right. (Inure's twin, then? Not that ships usually had twins where she was from, but assumptions, too, could poison your judgment. Who was she to say that Verity's people didn't grow their ships, in the same way she had used to grow her flowers? ...her flowers, which must have been dying by now. A pang of guilt pricked her heart, though Iskra flinched not. Wasn't that to be expected, after all? Her hands had been made for pain and death, for painting pictures with blood, and thinking they could make a garden bloom instead... what a foolish, foolish assumption! Merely wishful thinking, wrapped in childish dreams. This ending was one Iskra could have seen coming, in truth, although not like this. Never quite like this. ...but, hey, that was what made life so entertaining, wasn't it? Not knowing which flavor of disappointment you'd taste on your tongue next.)

Silently, Iskra observed Verity's interactions with the women. (Ah. So, this was her crew? As in, before they'd joined forces to look for the wayfinder? The snippets of the conversation travelled to her ears with delay, as if they had come to her from a great distance, but... yes, yes. That, at least, seemed to be the case. She's going to abandon me, the captain realized, with a dull pain where her heart had one been. ...which, duh. Once a prisoner, always a prisoner, right? A beautiful, pure princess, stolen by a wicked pirate-- in this little charade, those were their respective roles. Those, and nothing else! Iskra may have forgotten to play her part, but Verity certainly hadn't, and now she was to pay the price. Very well, then. Instead of excuses, she would accept her fate with dignity. Even as they slit her throat, the pirate wouldn't cry out, and never would they... oh. Verity wanted to stay, for some reason. Stay with her, of all people! Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, their wings fragile and velvety, and Iskra... by the Shade, Iskra had no idea what she was feeling! Something between excitement and nervousness, and yet not like those things at all. Was that why pink stained her cheeks?)

Then princess Halen proceeded to introduce herself, though, and smash the butterflies with her combat boots. "Yes, that would be me. Iskra," the captain said, her voice quiet. With a calculating gaze, she looked up-- despite her lips being blue and her skin translucent, almost ghost-like, her eyes still retained their sharpness. And the way she regarded Halen? Why, it seemed as if she was judging her! "That seems fair to me," the captain whispered. "Ah! I spoke aloud. Forgive me, princess Halen, for that wasn't what I intended. I was merely evaluating the current situation for myself, you see? And the conclusion I came to..." Iskra reached into her hair to grab the pin that was holding it, only to drop it at Halen's feet. (The steel pin adorned with her old number-- #707. Her entire life's meaning, or what was left of it.) "...is that, the way I am, you might stand a chance. So, princess Halen, I challenge you to a duel. Not for Inure, but for your ship. Well?"
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Again and again, Halen chooses to ignore Verity, chooses to only see what she wants, and chooses to only listen when the words please her. She seems so bent on acting in a manner that is only in accordance with her will and desires that she disregards that those around her have will and desire of their own, too. This is Halen’s way. It is how she has always been. ‘As strong as a mountain and twice as stubborn.’ It’s infuriating at times, really, and if Verity didn’t always have a list of excuses for the other princess she might have pushed Halen to the side long ago. Her favorite excuse to use is that Halen knows best––and typically, she does. While she is not gentle with her delivery of harsh news, everything she says and does is usually for the benefit of the other person. (Or the Restoration––which seems to be the only thing she cares about these days.)

So why does this all make Verity so hot right now? Halen is not acting any different than Verity would expect her to, but the excuses she would normally have to quell her upset are lost somewhere inside of her. It’s not that she doesn’t remember them. It’s not that she is not whispering them to herself right now. But when she threatens Iskra that is where Verity draws the line, apparently.

Just who does Halen think she is casting judgment on her captor? Should Verity not also be a part of this decision? 'Well, of course not! Halen doesn't seem to think so, at least. Halen, Halen, Halen... Ugh!' She wants to scream. She almost does.

Then Iskra starts speaking her own unique brand of nonsense and the prisoner has half the mind to wring her neck! “Iskra!” What does she even think she is doing? What does she hope to accomplish in her current state? There is no way, not in Verity’s eyes, that Iskra can win this––she looks as if she is on the brink of yet another Death. Angrily, Verity is about to step between the two, but Halen puts her arm up as a blockade.

Halen looks at Iskra as if she were debating squashing a cockroach. “You are in no position to negotiate, pirate. Die on this deck if you please, it does not matter when your Life ends just that it does,” she says, her tone making her sound almost bored. Still, Halen is a woman of her honor and being challenged, even by a pirate, is something she does take seriously. She draws her weapon. “May Death be kind to you and may your Divinities forgive your arrogance.”

At that moment, Verity finally steps between the two women and she places herself closer to Iskra in a manner that is protective, as if making herself into a shield for the woman who already believes she is one. “Stand down, Halen! This is not your fight––this is not your place to determine the captain’s punishment. You will let her leave, you will let us both leave so that we may compl––”

Once more Halen interrupts Verity, “Spare us the monologue, princess. Have you forgotten your oath to Aurora? Does that suddenly mean nothing to you now that you have set your eyes on some pirate?" The other princess raises a brow to punctuate that statement, silently communicating not only her disappointment but her absolute disapproval. "Grow up, Verity. There is no more Time for you to galavant across the galaxies. It is Time for you to return home, back to your people and those who actually understand you. You have had your fun, now see what is actually important and let go of your selfish desires."

Whatever dam had been put into place to keep Verity from becoming angry with Halen––and not just over her current situation, but all the other messes in her Life that lead back to the blonde––breaks. A rush of liquid fire rips through her veins and without so much as a thought, she turns around, looks at Iskra with some wild craze heavy in her eyes, and pulls the captain’s blade from its sheath. In a swift motion, she turns around and swings the blade at Halen.

Halen barely dodges the attack with a sidestep. Her iced over demeanor drops in her surprise, because where she has seen Verity act in brash ways before, she never once anticipated her trying to fight her. Still, Halen does not look worried. Even as Verity’s next attack comes her way, she merely dodges the strikes. It’s not until fire has completely replaced the princess’s blood that Halen starts to engage in the spar more faithfully than before. Though she does not want to believe that Verity would do her any harm, the flurry of strikes suggests otherwise. “Verity––what is the meaning of this? Drop your weapon before you do something you will regret.”

Verity does not hear Halen and even if she had, she would not have entertained her command. As heat flares through her, she slowly begins to shut down. She stops thinking of her opponent as Halen, her friend. She stops thinking of her opponent as Halen at all. She is not concerned with hurting her and she doesn’t care if her blade were to make contact with the other princess, who only now starts to counter her attacks with her own.

As they dance around the deck of the ship, a few revelations cross through Verity’s mind. There is the fact that she wants to finish restoring the foremother with Iskra; she wants to make sure that Iskra is brought safely back to Inure; she wants to continue searching for the wayfinder––with Iskra. More than that, she wants to fix things with Iskra. She cannot let herself run away. As much as she wants to forget what she has done, running away will only cement her monstrous nature; she must confront the monster within her and to do that she must somehow figure out how to make things right with the pirate. Though she knows she will never have Iskra again, she must at least work to fix what she can. She will not run from Iskra. Of that, she is certain. Of that, she is determined to beat Halen back.

At this point, Halen has shed her cape and has started to take more precise strikes towards Verity––none that would permanently damage her, but would at least incapacitate her. (Somewhere, she just believes that Verity needs to get this out of her system and once she is through, she will realize her stupidity and will retire for the evening.) “Verity––Verity, after everything I have done for you, please remember that I am not your enemy!”

That statement seems to send the exiled over the edge––as if Halen were saying something completely absurd. And perhaps, that's because she is! With Wrath and Pain guiding her, she comes down hard on Halen, “No, you just made my enemies!” At that, the other princess looks confused and Verity takes advantage, sending her backwards towards the rail. “I didn’t ask to be a part of this, Halen! I never wanted any part in this––I never wanted this. I am exiled, because of you! And somehow you are free to return whenever you please, but I do not have that luxury. Have you conveniently forgotten?”

“What are you talking about? You agreed to help.”

“To help. Not to be involved. Not to become the face! They’re dead because of you!” (because Halen is the one who implicated Verity as part of the Restoration. Because Halen had leaked information to Seraphina about Verity’s actual loyalty. Because Halen made it seem as though this were all Verity’s project. Because she knew that people would respond better to someone like Verity over someone like her. Because she knew the Restoration would be stronger with Verity as a "leader" of it. Because she knew a betrayal like that would destroy Seraphina and that would reveal her true craze. Halen was right. She always is. But she didn't risk anything.) “Aurora is in disarray because of you and your misguided calculations. This is your mess to clean, not mine––” her sword continues to collide with Halen’s and thanks to the other’s surprise, she seems hardly aware of her surroundings. Trapped in a deadlock, Verity pushes Halen back towards the rail until the other’s back is pressed against it. She doesn’t stop there, however. She continues to push her blade against Halen’s until Halen is bending backwards over the rail. It's possible that Verity is trying to push her overboard.

“Ver––please,” she mutters, teeth gritted as she tries to regain her footing, but that is futile.

“Shut up. I have every right to take your Life––it’s the least you owe me, but I’m feeling generous,” she says, mocking Halen, “I’m going to leave. You’re not going to chase us down. And if I ever see you again, I will send you straight to the Ether.” With that, she lets up and then shoves her former confidant. She takes off the broach and crushes it with her boot, staring Halen down the entire time.

When she turns back and locates Iskra, she wordlessly hands the pirate her sword and gathers the foremother under her arm. “I’m finished here. Let's go.”
 
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"No position to negotiate?" Iskra raised her eyebrow. "It appears there has been a misunderstanding of sorts. I am not negotiating, princess Halen. I am merely being kind enough to warn you in advance, so that you may prepare for your downfall. Wouldn't you like to thank me? Not all pirates are this considerate." Not all pirates were bleeding as they challenged their adversaries, either, though Iskra considered to be a minor inconvenience at best. The Shade had already wrapped her in its embrace, you know? Quietly, it sang to the wound, to the shredded tissue, and within that melody, assurance could be found-- 'Worry not. Give yourself to me, and I shall pour energy into your veins.' Now, if only providence granted her a few more precious minutes! Fresh blood was still flowing from her wound, flowing and painting a dark red sunset on her shirt, and... clearly, Iskra stood at a crossroads. Life or death, what would it be? Time could nudge her towards life, but oh, time was exactly what she didn't have. (...would stalling tactics work? If Halen believed that the death sentence had already been carried out for the pirate, then yes, perhaps. It is worth a try, I suppose.) "And what about you, princess Halen? Perhaps you should pray to your own gods for forgiveness before we begin-- as you may not get the chance to do that later. Don't you believe your own conduct to be shameful, after all? Letting your own princess board a pirate's ship, surrounded by a handful of bodyguards only. Ridiculous! You accuse me of stealing her, and I may have done that, indeed, but you, Halen? You pushed her into my arms." There, Iskra thought, that should be enough.

(Enough of what, you ask? Well, enough of pouring oil into the fire. Princess Halen seemed to have been sculpted from ice, yes, but she couldn't fool Iskra-- oh no, no, no. Just like a wolf knew another wolf by the scent, she, too, knew those whose souls had been touched by flames. Passion was sleeping somewhere within, the pirate could see that, and given her reactions to Verity? It was connected to her, doubtlessly. A powder keg, that was what she was. A powder keg, filled with sulphur and mercury and all things explosive, and all you had to do was to light the fuse! With some luck, her own fire would devour her then. ...fire did that, you know. Sustenance it required, always, always, and when there was nothing else to burn? It turned against you, in all its fury. With its searing heat, it melted your skin, everything that made you you, and buried you in your own ashes. Oh, how well Iskra knew!)

"Verity," the pirate raised her voice when the princess stepped in front of her, "Verity, move aside. This is my battle. Please, don't get in my-- ah!" Her sword. The one item that truly belonged her-- belonged to her in the same way her limbs were hers, really, or her heart was. (The materials from which they'd been crafted? Bone and steel, and thus entirely different, but oh, did they share the same core. ...they'd bathed the sword in her own blood, long before it had tasted anyone else's. Slowly, it had dripped on the blade, and it had drunk and drunk and drunk, eagerly, as if its throat had been parched for centuries. Iskra slept with it, dammit! Always, it was under her pillow, or under her bed, or by her side, and now-- now Verity stole it.) "Princess! What is the meaning of this? Return my weapon to me!" the pirate shrieked, something suspiciously close to panic resonating in her voice. "Without my sword, I cannot..." Oh. Well. That was the whole point, wasn't it? You didn't clip a bird's wings and demand it to fly higher-- no, you did it so it couldn't claim its place in the sky. So this was the judgment Verity had imparted on her, huh? Being executed, like a pig to the slaughter, and... once again, Iskra was wrong. Wrong, for the princess took her place!

For a while, the pirate was stunned. Just... entirely disconnected from reality, it seemed, because nothing made sense anymore-- rules that had been carved into the stone were being reversed, with the same ease with which wind carried grains of sand. (Someone else, fighting for her? What? Iskra should be risking her skin for the princess, not vice versa! Such depths of depravity, truly. You might as well demand an eagle to sing, and a nightingale to hunt. ...still, the pirate recognized her weakness now. As much as she wanted to grab her sword back, she would be getting in Verity's way, and in the chaos that enveloped a battlefield? That could easily prove to be fatal. A seasoned fighter wouldn't engage in such foolishness! A seasoned fighter would adjust her strategy to respond to the situation, and... ah, of course. There was something for her to do, even aside from swinging her sword. Hang on, Verity. I trust you. Because, all that time they had spent on refining her techniques? That hadn't been just a spectacle, meant to chase away boredom. No, it was real.)

With all the eyes on the fighting pair, Iskra retreated into the insides of the ship, using her memory of Inure as a blueprint. If I am correct, then the navigation systems should be... yes, right there! The large crystal in which stars were being reflected, pulsating so, so softly. (Myrne had spoken of it, numerous times. 'Be careful, Iskra. This technology is fickle-- the crystal cannot be tainted, otherwise it will point false. It is so hard to clean it, too! You must take care of it, like a mother would care for her own child.' And, truly, would there be a greater irony than her staining it with the blood Halen meant to spill? With her lips curling up in a smirk, Iskra let the droplets fall onto the surface. ...plop, plop, plop.)

Fear for Verity's safety gripped her heart then, so the pirate rushed back to the deck, but those feelings were pointless-- by that point, Halen had accepted her defeat. (Oh. What was that feeling? The warmth that spread from her center right to the fingertips, as if she'd been wrapped in a large blanket? ...pride, Iskra realized. Pride, for the best of her pupils.) "Indeed, you won't," she nodded before collecting her pin from the floor. "Mostly because I destroyed your navigation systems. Never stop watching your enemy, princess Halen. That is my last advice to you! And, oh... I've changed my mind. About the duel, I mean. I'm afraid you aren't as interesting as I thought." Verity, though! Verity developed new depths each time she looked at her, like a kaleidoscope whose pictures were born anew with each movement. Perhaps that what fascinated her about the princess? This ability to reinvent herself, again and again and again, similar to what she was doing. ...what a curious, curious parallel. Respectfully, Iskra accepted her sword, and off they went.

"You fought well," the pirate finally said when they returned to their dolphins. "I am proud of you. Only, princess, may I ask you a question? Those were your people, weren't they? How... Why did you choose us? Me?"
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

As they leave, no one dares step in their path to stop them. Most likely too stunned to move or even unsure of what to make of Verity now––is she still their princess or is she an enemy? Even Halen is at a loss for words as she gathers herself and watches the pair leave; undoubtedly she is already adjusting her operations to account for this rather sudden development, but when it comes to trying to reach her friend again, she remains as stoic as ever having also collected her initial surprise and tucked that away.

On Verity's end, her blood is still hot and cooling down from the duel. It has not fully hit her yet what she has done or what has just transpired. Where she can acknowledge that, yes, a duel has taken place between herself and Halen, the other pieces are still floating around in her head. Such as what inspired her to snap or even all the truths she had unraveled in the process of swinging Iskra's blade. It really is as if some rare, short-lived madness had seized her then and were she not to act she might have imploded instead. And to be honest, the exiled is tired of caving in on herself.

It's not until they are some distance away that guilt replaces the home that anger had made, because she realizes she just challenged Halen and went against her. Not only that, but she left. Though she knows that this is what she had wanted and this is the outcome she had fought for, the victory does not taste as sweet on her lips when she begins to doubt her actions. Had she acted too irrationally back there? While she knows that everything she had said had been true, like feelings she had hidden away until they became like a monster in slumber, she never intended to actually act on them. Ever. At least not in the manner she had––she could have killed Halen! And towards the end, she remembers it being a serious consideration and that revelation surprises her. That her anger is so hungry it has become Violent. 'Have I just proven myself more like the Queen?' that thought chills her.

Though only for a moment, because Iskra's praise tears her from those ruminations and warm her. Coming from Iskra, it's almost as if she had made the right choice. As if she finds the justification she needed from the pirate, who is part of the reason she decided to leave the Restoration. Though her question only stirs up her prior worries once more, making her relief all but temporary. She doesn't really know how to answer that question. Answering it truthfully outs herself as a traitor to her people; lying outs herself as a traitor to Iskra. Can she walk that path again? "Yes, those were my people. What remains of them, I suppose," she looks away from the captain, feeling shame seep into her, because she has turned her back on her women and the weight of her role as their princess is suddenly heavier that it has ever been before. She is beginning to wonder where any of her loyalties lie and if she is now more ignoble than ever. "My relationship with them is complicated." Complicated doesn't encapsulate her feelings entirely, especially since individually she gets along with other members of the Restoration. So she clarifies, "Well, my relationship with Halen is complicated."

"It wasn't always, but she made it so," the more she talks, the more freedom she finds in speaking her mind. Though it's not uncommon for her to do so around Iskra. "The Restoration is her project and while I support it, I never agreed to any of the terms she had set, but Halen... Well, Halen doesn't make a habit of listening to those she believes are beneath her. So she made decisions for me and I went along with them, admittedly," because she hadn't been given much of a choice and she could not, at the Time, figure out how to get out of all the expectations the other princess had for her. Even after she had found out what Halen had done to expose the Queen's ruthless nature, she still went along with the other princess––convinced that had she actually fulfilled her role, had she actually killed the Queen, then none of those Deaths would be on her hands. It took giving herself over to Wrath and dueling Halen to actually see how dastardly it was to convince Verity it had been her fault. "I just cannot return to that. But, also, my decision to leave them all behind, well," she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, searching for the words she wants to use before she finally looks over at the pirate. "I wasn't going to abandon you." While there is so much more behind her reasoning, she starts with what is most simple and she says it so casually like how one might decide between toast or cereal for breakfast. "I am not going to abandon you."

It does seem like Verity has no more to say on the subject when she stops herself, but she does have more she wants to share; yet everything feels so tangled together that she doesn't even know how to sort through the mess in her mind to give Iskra a glimpse of her reasoning. She knows that her decision doesn't make much sense; she knows how it must look to someone like Iskra, who takes her oaths seriously, and she does worry of the other's judgments. It seems the only person who really understands this decision is herself, but how does she just let herself explain this development? "I thought about it, admittedly, but I decided that would be a cowards choice. I may not be able to undo what I have done to you, but I cannot run away from my responsibility to right this wrong in anyway that I can. This is what I have chosen for myself. The Restoration will be fine without me. I wasn't really their leader anyway."
 
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'Above all, homeland.' If there was such a thing as the holiest of mantras, it must have been this one-- it had followed Iskra closely, in the same way a shadow stalked its source or a dog its master. (And if you looked carefully enough? You could see the silhouette of those words behind every decision she had ever made, ghostly and intangible but so, so real. Like will-o-the-wisps they guided her, deeper and deeper into the swamp, and, yes, she let them-- since she was nothing, you see. Nothing but a grim reminder of what they'd agreed to in order to preserve themselves, back when the gods had still ruled the skies. An empty, cracked mask. What was she good for, then, of not for others to step on? Iskra herself wouldn't reach the other side, but maybe, maybe she could at least serve as a bridge, and that could be meaningful in itself! ...innocence had slipped through her fingers, for they were slick with blood. Never again would she be able to hold it, to make the shape fit her heart, though that... that had never been her purpose in the first place, had it? No, of course not. Those like Iskra, you see, were meant to absorb filth-- to attract it, similarly to how corpses attracted flies. That way, everyone else could remain stainless! And, truly, wasn't there beauty to be found in such a fate? ...that, at least, was what they'd told her, over and over and over again. There had been no reason to doubt those words, for They shaped the world.)

So, yes. 'Above all, homeland.' Iskra, of course, knew that not every organism in the universe shared her values-- there were as many schools of thought as there were shades of colors, and comparing them usually brought her great joy. Without them, the mosaic would be just so boring, you know? Bland and grey, much like her old uniform. Still, certain aspects of existence the pirate saw as universal. Wanting to preserve one's homeland was one such truth-- mostly because the instinct to protect one's territory seemed to be one of those things they'd inherited from ages of old, back when they'd been barely more than animals. 'Eat, sleep, don't let anyone take what is yours.' Different philosophies may have dressed these statements into more fancy justifications, but that was the core of it, wasn't it? This need to exist in an unfriendly world, full of competition-- the desire to triumph, and conquer all. Basic biology, really. An ancient programming written in their DNA, never quite as overshadowed by reason as people would have liked to believe.)

And yet, despite all of that? Verity claimed she didn't care-- or rather, that she did care, but not as much as she cared about her. Astonished, Iskra looked up at the princess. (Was she hallucinating? Something must have been altering her perception, surely, but oh, she didn't feel that way! Moreover, the Shade had pulled her back from the edge of the abyss already, and so it made no sense for her to start losing her grip on reality now. Oh no, no, no. The words that reached her ears were true, as true as they could be! ...what was hiding behind them, though? That was another matter entirely, and one shrouded in mystery. Her eyes just didn't see far enough to grasp it.) "I... suppose I understand," Iskra began, quietly. "Being part of something larger than you are, and having no idea why. Not being able to reject it. They didn't ask me, either, you know? Not when they chose me to be a soldier, and not when they decided I should be the captain. Perhaps my stars judged that I should be used, I suppose. What do you think, Verity?" (...how different were they, exactly? Before, Iskra hadn't dared to draw any parallels, but she had a feeling this question would keep her up at nights now. A captain or a princess, what did it matter? Even if the chronicles of their lives were written in different inks, the handwriting just looked so, so similar! And certain sections of it, too. It was inappropriate to wonder, of course, for a worm could not understand the motions of the sun, but could there possibly be other similar passages? Passages from which understanding could be built? ...ah, foolish, foolish, foolish! How had she not be cured from this twisted sort of thinking yet? One would have thought that Death would be a bitter enough medicine, though no, apparently-- still was she shackled by it, with no escape in sight.)

"But I, um. I don't know what to say," the pirate admitted, her gaze glued to her hands. (Verity... Verity wasn't going to abandon her. Her, Iskra! Why would anyone say that, even? Was this some cruel joke she couldn't understand? Because, even if the princess meant every word, there was no way to stay by her side! ...mostly because she was slipping away, away, away, deeper into the primordial darkness.) "Thank you. I just hope that you understand what you're giving up, and what you may never receive in return. I... I'm not sure what exactly I can give you, Verity. It's not all up to me, either. Things are... complicated." Mildly speaking.

"This Restoration of yours. Will you tell me more?" Iskra's eyes finally found Verity's face, somewhat shy. "I... back in my day, I used to lead a rebellion. I was the one to kill the Holy Vessel, Verity. I thought it was the key to freedom, but things didn't go as I expected them to. I was... I was wrong. Were you wrong, too?"
 
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♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The further they travel away from her old ship, her people, Halen, the seeds of doubt start to crack, sprout, and take root in her head––an ugly garden she will water at night when her thoughts are her only company. It's difficult for Verity to feel confident in her decision to leave, her decision to devote herself to a pirate (the pirate who holds her captive no less). When she puts it in those terms it sounds so ludicrous, but even in kinder terms that better reflect her reality, such as choosing her own terms of freedom, it doesn't make much sense. For the first Time in the young descendant's Life she has chosen herself. It's a lonely path to walk, she now realizes, and when she is still able to look back at the path she has just stepped off of? One that had been paved and full of friends? One that at least had direction and a definitive end? She wants to turn back and run towards that familiarity even if she had never felt lonelier and unfulfilled in that place. Then, she had the benefit of sight and now on her own, with only a candlestick to light her way, she does not know where the end is or even what it is. But when she looks at Iskra, she is reminded, at least for now, she is not alone.

Iskra's admission also does not come as much of a surprise to Verity; something about how the captain had talked about her Life as a soldier had her guessing there hadn't been a choice. What strikes her about the pirate's words is how she likens their situations––even if entire stars apart, Iskra sees that thread of connection and Verity? She holds onto it too. "Stars are blind if they mistook you for a doormat," she says, eyes trained ahead at all the other stars that line her vision. "You know, I once heard that stars are the true makers of the Universe. They must be what gods and Divinities look like if that is the case. And you know what else I heard? The iron in our blood is the same iron that a dying star breathes. So, in that regard, we are made of stardust ourselves." There is a point the prisoner is trying to make, but this hypothesis of hers is not something she likes to share with just anyone. Not that it is particularly unique or that other minds and other poets haven't romanticised this very concept, but she does not know where Iskra stands on this knowledge; this particular belief of hers is so close to her heart she would not want to face the captain's rejection. Yet, she also does not want to reject herself or deny herself this opportunity to share. "If we are amalgams of the stars themselves then I think we write our own fates too. Do you think that choice is really ours, captain? Or am I deluding myself?"

It's ironic that the prisoner can say this while the Life she has led has been so counterintuitive to this point––a point that should have empowered her and guided her actions. However, she had never been brave enough to take the reigns of her own Life. Even if this is a belief she holds, it's easier to recite the mantra than to live its truth and give it real meaning. Perhaps, however, the prisoner is on her way to breaking such cycles. After all, would a woman bound by her chains challenge the woman who wrapped her in them?

"I don't expect anything from you, Iskra," Verity says, looking at her with her brow furrowed together. Perhaps it is the captain's conditioning that has her believing there must always be something for another to want from her, but Verity truly wants nothing. She is not joining the captain and leaving her people behind for something in return. In fact, Verity knows she has nothing to gain from an arrangement such as this. "I only wish... My only wish..." she stops again and purses her lips together as she retreats to her mind, searching for what exactly she is even trying to accomplish in this. "Admittedly, captain, I did not think much of you when we first met, but that changed rather quickly. You became important to me and I did more than just spit on that when I," 'murdered you,' "well, you know... I am here, with you, because you continue to be important to me and I could not leave you knowing that I didn't at least try to clean this mess I made." Not when the opportunity is there for her to do so––how often can a murderer make up for their crimes? The Divinities have given her this opportunity and she will not ignore them.

When the conversation turns to the Restoration, another pang of guilt is sent through the exiled. Though it seems less resonate than before and thus less threatening. Her gaze meets Iskra's shy one and she can't help but to smile, albeit automatically. "Well... Like I said, it's not my project. It's Halen's––she inherited it from her grand ancestor, one of our prior queens, actually. The issues of our country are longstanding and Halen's ancestor saw these flaws and sought to fix them; I guess she was not successful in her lifetime so she sought out her descendant to revive this movement. The main goal had been to strip the council of their power and create a new system to for selecting princesses. That, of course, assumes Power trickles down from the top and I pointed that out to Halen so," after months of arguments, "she adjusted the focus to empower the people most of all. Though she doesn't really 'get' people, because she's never lived a normal Life; she's never known hunger, Loss, or lack in general," Verity sighs, seeming exhausted more than anything––perhaps even just remembering that Time in her Life tires her. "Anyway, she was supposed to assume the crown, but the trials did not go as planned and the other princess defeated us both in the final trial. Immediately, we knew she was ill-fit––in fact, Halen and I had numerous conversations that the other princess should never be given any power. She was," blood thirsty, cruel, sadistic, "never meant to be a legitimate candidate for the crown––I'm not even certain that I was––but everyone who tried to play the game correctly forgot to account for the wildcard. In any case, when our new queen came to power things gradually got worse. She is insecure in her rulership so any assumed threat to her seat on the throne has been met with Death. The council only lasted a week before she slaughtered them and appointed friends from her days as a gladiator to those seats. It's been disarray since and became worse," when the queen found out Verity had attempted to assassinate her, thanks to Halen's loose lips.

"I suppose I don't exactly regret being affiliated with the Restoration... but I do wish things had unfolded in a different manner," too bad Halen took action into her own hands in some attempt to gain control. "Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing how things would have gone down had I not been branded a traitor and we fled––though I had wanted to stay and face her." But the algorithms used to determine the outcome of facing the queen in battle deemed the risk too great. Despite that, Verity still believes they should have stayed and fought her.

"But, you say you were the one to kill the Holy Vessel?" she asks, surprise coloring her tone. "And you led the rebellion," she repeats, her eyes narrowing as if she is trying to see Iskra the rebel leader over Iskra the former soldier turned pirate captain. "What happened afterwards?" If killing the head did not fix the problems of Iskra's country then Verity almost feels better for not ending her queen's Life. "After you killed her––was there no rejoice in the streets?"
 
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Well, was it? Did they indeed hold such a power in their hands? The power to shape not just the world around them, indeed, but themselves as well? (If so, then Iskra would sculpt and sculpt and sculpt! With a chisel, she'd cut deep into her rotten flesh-- carve it away, bit by bit, in hopes of discovering something better. ...a healthy core, one untouched by the Shade. Did such a thing still exist within in her, somewhere beyond her reach? Iskra didn't dare to guess.) "I am... uncertain," she sighed. "I do like the idea, Verity. I truly, truly do. We've spoken about choices a lot, too, and so you know where I stand in this regard, but I am not sure whether the wiggle room we are granted with the decisions we are allowed to make is large enough to matter. I mean, what is fate, even? Do the stars truly decide for us, and write it down in the sky? Or is it something more nebulous than that, such as us being slaves to who we are? Because, Verity, just think about it. Are stars not associated with wisdom? With being able to see that which is hidden? Perhaps they merely peer into our souls when we are born, and know in that moment which path we will take-- simply due to us not being able to do anything else. If it is the latter, then... yes, I do believe we are the authors of our own fate. We, or something within us, at least." Which, of course, only raised more questions! (Did this spiral have an end, or did it spin and spin onwards, forever stuck in the same shape? Frankly, the option terrified her more than she could tell.) "Princess," she turned to Verity, "do you believe that a person can change? Truly change, I mean. For if we are indeed made of stardust, and thus the architects of our destiny... well, that is the problem, isn't it? That most of us cannot write such a heavy narrative with a steady hand." ...and, yes, 'most of us' included her as well. Especially her! "Acquiring such a skill, though... Oh, that could make a world of difference."

When Verity said that she required nothing of her, though? Iskra's eyebrow shot up straight into the stratosphere. "Nonsense," she whispered, oh so curt. "Everyone wants something, princess. I am not accusing you of possessing ulterior motives here, either-- it is... well, much like the law of action and reaction. A cause and consequence, really. We act because we wish to see something happen, even if we might not be aware of it at the time. Accepting another person's kindness also puts you in their debt, and I... I don't know. It is hard to tell whether I will be able to pay it back, Verity. Don't get me wrong, your words do make me happy," more than she was willing to admit, actually, "but I am still me. My eyes do not see far enough for this. I have no idea where we're heading, princess, and I do not wish to lie to you. Please, be mindful of this fact during our... hmmm, interactions." Because, to Iskra? The times when she had pledged herself to a cause blindly, without a second of consideration, had ended. They had been ended, with a sword-shaped bone. (Never again, the captain thought. I do not have enough of myself left to give it away this easily.)

Thankfully, the conversation turned to something safer-- something more abstract, for Iskra at least. "Ah. That... that must have been difficult. Watching her ascend to power, I mean. Being dragged into princess Halen's fight also." And those pesky, pesky parallels? Oh, their contours only grew more pronounced with each word that fell from Verity's lips! (Could this woman possibly understand her? Understand the nature of her mission, and the weight that lay on her shoulders? In silks she had been raised, yes, but beneath, Iskra could see the glimpses of steel, and... ah, that was a familiar combination, too. A match made in heaven.) "I wonder if there is a system that can withstand our greed," the pirate whispered. "Isn't it funny, Verity? The way we are our own downfall. For most other species, there is a predator whose existence they curse, but we? We can destroy one another with such unprecedented ease. Do you think that is the heritage of the stars within us? As stars always swallow themselves in the end, too." Iskra fell silent for a while, no doubt thinking about something, and then she looked at the princess once again. "The unworthy queen. Do you not wish to claim your vengeance against her? Do you not mind that your name has been dragged through the mud?"

If the previous topic was safe, however, the next one was a minefield-- a minefield Iskra wanted to avoid, with passion so strong it could carry mountains. Why, after all, unearth the corpses she had buried? Because Verity has been honest with you, some part of her answered. That much you owe to her, at least! Raw, unfiltered honesty. "Oh," Iskra smiled sadly, "there was much rejoicing. Women laughed, and wine flowed as if it was water. I had never seen a celebration this wild-- it lasted for a month or two, I think. Afterwards, though..." the pirate's voice faltered, as if the truth was too much for her tongue to bear, but she pushed through. For Verity, Iskra would withstand the pressure! "...afterwards, they crowned me. There wasn't anyone better, they said. Maybe it was true, too, but... well, the lack of more suitable candidates still didn't make me adequate. I failed, princess. I didn't know how to lead a country, nor how to contend with the curse of our old gods. I did lead them, alright, but I led them directly into the Abyss." Everything screamed at her to avert her gaze, to hide her shame from the other woman, and that was exactly why Iskra refused to do that. No, she wouldn't dishonor her people's pain via trying to protect her own ego! "Can that ever be forgiven, Verity? Hurting so many, just because you were too dazzled by your own ideals."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

As the pair continue forward on their path, letting the dolphins and the foremother bring them back towards their ancestral home, Verity fixes her attention, as always, on the captain. She isn't sure if she wants to find the truth in Iskra's words, because to accept such a thing as being powerless to something predestined means there is almost no hope for change. No hope for redemption. Or, there is if your story has such a twist in it but for others? Others might not be so lucky and what is Verity? She wants to believe in her choices; she wants to believe they have all been freely hers, even if she can see the ones where she had to bend certain ways due to her environment. (Though another part of her clings to Iskra's logic as well; if she accepts that her power of choice is meager, then she does not have to worry about all the sins attached to her name. She can brush them off as mere markers on her journey through Life to Death. Accepting such logic, however, is just not Verity.) And as Iskra finishes, she seems to offer a branch of hope for the prisoner to grasp onto. "Yes, some people are incapable of change, because to change means to look yourself in the mirror and admit that you are unhappy with the person staring back at you. It takes a commitment and concentrated effort, but it is not impossible. Just more effort than most feel it's worth." Verity has changed so many Times in her Life, she doesn't even know who stares back her anymore. A fisher's daughter? A poet? A princess? A traitor? A murderer? All of the above and yet none of it also, because she cannot be confined to these snippets of her history––she is all of those labels and evolutions simultaneously; she is, because she has been and continues to be. 'That seems oh too simple to be true...' "The choice is ours to change."

Verity chooses to ignore Iskra's insistence that there must be something more behind her desire to stay with the captain. Some arguments are just not worth it to her and this one, she has decided, is useless. She can fill a room with words and still Iskra may never hear them, because her beliefs tell her of an alternative reality; one in which there is always give and always take and Verity just does not believe that. So instead of committing to turning herself blue in the face, she stays quiet and begins to list all the ways she may be able to prove this truth. 'Always, always show the meaning of your words if you mean them at all,' she reminds herself. (She wouldn't necessarily agree with the notion that her ulterior motive is to have Iskra as a companion once more, as she made quite clear she only wishes to rectify what she has done. In fact, to wish for her companionship is something she knows is like reaching for stars and hoping to not get burned by the primordial flame and she is not that foolish. If she must devote the rest of her Life to this pirate, and gain nothing for herself? Well, this is her debt to pay and no one else's; for she alone chose to take the Life of an innocent and only she alone can bear the burden of that sin and its accompanying Consequences.)

"Oh, I wouldn't say it was only Halen's fight," she clarifies, "I wanted these changes just as much as she." Anyone in the palace could tell you that Princess Verity had lists upon lists of improvements she wanted to see. Though they might also say that her eyes shone like a child, too, and her ideas were lofty visions of things that would never happen. Not because there were no resources to enact such changes, but because the people would not react well to such sudden adjustments and the people are used to the way things are. "She just had the necessary social capital to be taken seriously," what with her being the descendant of a former queen and an elite. What was Verity in comparison to that? (Actually a great deal more threatening had she ever realized her effect on people; but the truth is hard to see when everyone around you insists you wear a blindfold and you trust them enough to let them guide you. Such an easy thing to accomplish, because what fisher's daughter really believes she's important enough for something grander? Especially when she had been made to feel thankful for the opportunity to serve as a princess.) "But, yes, Greed seems to have consumed many planets beyond my own or even yours, I imagine. I do not wish to believe it is just that way, that it is the only way. And I think I have seen evidence of otherwise in the neighborhood I grew up in––certainly, there was greed, but when everyone has so little, you start to care for each other differently. Though maybe that is just unique to where I was... but I would like to say that I saw true community there that I had wished to spread through the rest of the country."

Oh. Revenge. Vengeance. Of course Verity wants those things. She's imagined it so many Times––the look on the queen's face when she rips the scimitar from her hands; how she'll feel when she lets that very blade sink into her chest; the biting lines she'll deliver as she watches the Life drain from her eyes. Even just thinking about it now makes her hot and the dolphin beneath her even seems to stir and yelps, too, because she had gripped her fin too tightly. She mumbles an apology before turning to Iskra. "More than most things, I do want vengeance," she doesn't even dare say she wants to avenge all the Deaths that have happened at the hands of the insatiable queen. That is just not true. Selfishly, she wants revenge. "It's not even my name I care about––it's everything she did to hurt me, to try and break my spirit." Because it never took her more than a second to figure out why the queen had acted in all the ways that she had. Even before she found out of Verity's allegiance there were all those subtle messages meant to make the exiled feel small, weak, and powerless. "But with everyone watching for my return, I doubt I'll ever have the resources to claim that for myself," especially since she has chosen to leave the Restoration behind. Though she does not mention that.

Eagerly, she listens as the captain shares more of her past and she savors each detail as if she were starved and desperate. Though Iskra's answer only leaves her with more questions. (A new layer, too, is added to her image of the captain; the soldier turned rebel leader, the chosen crown for her people, now a pirate with a mission.) For several minutes, perhaps it stretches hours, the prisoner remains quiet as she sorts out what to make of this. Without any necessary details, she finds it difficult to cast judgment on the captain. (Though she'd like to believe she would never judge her regardless of what she'd fine.) "The last queen once told me, no one truly knows how to lead a country; she admitted that sitting on the throne never made her any wiser and the scimitar's guidance could even be limited." The prisoner shakes her head, realizing she is trying to make Iskra feel better for her past and she just doesn't think that is her place. "Honestly, I don't know what to say to that. What were your ideals that led you astray?" She struggles to grasp how shooting for lofty goals would mean the doom of the people––but that is only because she knows where her ideals would lead. Or where she has been hopeful they would lead; though now she is scared to imagine what her rulership would have looked like if only guided by what everyone else called her silly fantasies. Would she have also led them to doom? "I... I don't know," she admits. There is so much blood tied to her own name and she was not even the one who ordered that storms made of glass and fire be sent across her people; still her name is faulted, thus blame has fallen on her shoulders, and she isn't even sure if she'll ever gain the forgiveness of her people. "I think that is up to your people to decide, Iskra."
 
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What was it, Iskra wondered sometimes, that made her value these discussions with Verity so much? They were just words! Ideas only imperfectly captured, in truth, and offered to her as an afterthought-- mere bread crumbs from her mind's table, if that. (Humans adored the sound of their own voice, didn't they? For the act of opening your mouth was simple-- simpler than reaching your listeners' heart, and simpler still than actually trying to follow those principles you articulated so, so eloquently. The pirate, of course, understood that. As an existence so far removed from humanity, she could observe these things with greater accuracy, so observe she did! Emotional distance created objectivity, or something close to it, at least, and... well. Perhaps that was what she truly treasured about the princess, whether she was aware of it of not. Verity just didn't strike her as that sort of person, you know? Despite the seeds of doubt taking root in her heart, she seemed genuine to Iskra-- as if her soul lived on her tongue, and showed its true colors with each word. ...oh, rare pearls they were, indeed. Maybe, one day, the pirate would have enough of them to make herself a fine necklace. Until then, though? Until then, Iskra had to collect them, and adore them as diligently as she adored the sky itself.)

"I suppose that's true," she whispered. "Unless you choose to see these evolutions as pre-destined twists and turns on your path, of course." Still, allowing herself to get lost in that particular maze would lead her exactly nowhere. Because, duh! A maze was a maze, even if its walls happened to be made of crystal. (Shiny they were, with sunlight dancing across their edges, but in the end? The burst of colors was just an illusion, and if you looked closely enough, you had to realize just how devoid of meaning the entire structure was. A distraction, just like a thief snapping her fingers while cutting your purse off. What purpose did eternal doubts serve, after all? They could be used to sharpen your conclusions, yes, but they could also grind them into dust-- because, without the gift of Certainty, some were inclined not to form any opinions at all. A coward's path disguised as wisdom!) "But, princess, surely you will agree with me that the scope of our vision is limited. Did you know, for example, that we only see a fraction of colors that exist in this universe? So many more of them bloom right before our eyes, and yet we will never so much as glimpse them. How can you claim, then, that we can perceive our own reflection in the mirror accurately? What if... what if that image is twisted? And what if, due to this, we change and become worse for it? How do you deal with that?" Ah, another question that may or may not have been personal. Honestly, when would Iskra learn? She wasn't even letting the princess get close to her-- no, she was dragging her into her personal zone, deeper and deeper and deeper! (...too bad, then, that her personal zone was a wasteland. A grave with no body inside, still open, and waiting, oh so patiently.)

"I see," Iskra muttered. "It is a shame, then, that it turned out like this. A flimsy execution can break even the most solid of ideas, and not even those can fly with their wings so thoroughly shattered. But, Verity, perhaps this is a good thing. I mean, you did say this was princess Halen's plan, wasn't it? We all have to accept responsibility for our choices, and she is no different. In bearing the weight of the Restoration, I'm sure that she'll be able to find some sort of peace." Because, to her, princess Halen did look like someone who was still seeking her place in the galaxy-- behind that self-assured smirk, it may have been hard to see, but oh, did Iskra know how to spot someone who was hiding behind a shield. "And, frankly? I believe you may have failed the first time around because of this. Because Halen made you act in her interest, while her own hands remained clean. That, Verity, isn't how you change the course of history. No, you cannot... cannot cling onto the hope that your own soul will remain spotless."

With her eyes full of understanding, Iskra nodded. "Perhaps you shall be able to claim your revenge yet. Not necessarily via the Restoration, if you wish to sever your ties to them, but destiny works in mysterious ways. You and the tyrant queen... it is possible you'll meet again, Verity. Now, imagine this happening. What would you do? What would you say to her, if you knew she couldn't retaliate?" ...why was she asking these questions, again? Iskra knew not. (Questions, after all, should be heading towards a specific purpose! When crafted carefully, you could use them to unearth precious information, and knowing this-- knowing this was worth nothing, much like dirt on her shoes. Pointless, pointless, pointless! A waste of her breath, in truth, and yet, yet Iskra couldn't stop the words from being spoken.)

When Verity refused to cast her judgment, Iskra smiled-- smiled in the same way a prisoner would, shortly after finding out she'd been sentenced to death. "I... thank you for your honesty, princess. Truly, I don't know why I asked. It's not like you can grant me a pardon," or unspill the blood that had been spilled. No, forgiveness could only be pried from the cold, dead fingers of the victims-- and, oh, Iskra had no idea how to do that. "I've said so much already," the pirate sighed, "so I may as well tell you the rest. You want to know what my sin was, huh? Very well. My sin, Verity, was my arrogance. Presuming that I deserved more than I was getting, that was. The Holy Vessel was cruel, yes, but had I just endured, Lellenei's link wouldn't have been severed. The next Holy Vessel may have been a wise ruler! And even if she wasn't, my people at least would have been protected from the curse. Ultimately, I... placed myself above them, I suppose. A shield I am, yes, but a shield that doesn't even do its job. I was meant to carry their wounds, but," Iskra finally looked away, unable to withstand the intensity all of a sudden, "I couldn't. That can never be forgiven."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

"Well, I suppose it is up to you to decide whether you believe that there is meager choice or an abundance of it, captain. We may never know the truth behind these inquiries and thus our beliefs become paramount in our quest to understand the Cosmos and all her tricky secrets," she says with a sagely nod, as if maybe she were a sage sister herself. (If only! She had dreamed of that once, when she didn't know she could dream as big as to become an actual princess.) As Verity thinks more on what she has just said, she agrees with herself more and more, because there are some things the mortal mind will never understand or will never have a secure answer for––so it makes sense to the prisoner that beliefs are what must be in place to guide people. Thus, it is of the utmost importance to believe in what will allow one to live their truth. Or, rather, that is what she knows is important for her as she takes this dark path ahead, since she has stepped off the beaten one. It's also the lesson her ancestors passed to her when they gave her the name Verity. "Well," she taps her chin as mulls over the question. The answer doesn't come easily for the prisoner, but perhaps that is what she likes most about Iskra's inquiries. They force her to think in ways she would not have previously and consider positions that she has overlooked. "That is quite complicated. If you have changed for the worse, then there is nothing you can really do about that; you cannot, after all, erase your past. However, the future will always be a blank slate and thus, while you cannot go backwards, you can move forwards in a way that aligns with something you liken as better—whatever that is. We are students to Life and our ability to learn is our greatest asset. So who is to say that we cannot correct the error of our ways through Humility, Acceptance, and Courage?"

The exiled finds comfort in Iskra's interpretation of her predicament with Halen, because it is not one she has ever considered before. Prior to this, she had blamed herself for the failures of the Restoration; if only she had been more callous and calculating, then it would have succeeded and she would have never been made a pariah to her people (her own family). She never once considered that all the ways she was supposed to have acted back then had been dictated by Halen. Even if she knows those suggestions and plans were born from the other princess's mind, without much input from herself, it never occurred to her that Halen had been trying to get Verity to be more like herself. Now it makes more sense than ever why Verity was incapable of killing their queen––because that is how Halen would have acted, but she chose to use Verity as her piece to do so and that was her greatest error. While this is a revelation for her, she does not yet voice any of this because she is not ready to make it real. "I had never considered that. I do know that Halen's actions were guided by her algorithms that told her I was better suited for the plans she had in mind. I’m hesitant to assume she would only use me as a pawn." Now she wonders what Halen would have done had she not convinced Verity to help her––then she thinks that Halen likely didn't have an alternative plan. She is usually confident in her ability to get what she wants. (She wonders if the woman has ever heard the sentence, ‘No,’ from lips other than her own.)

Verity laughs at Iskra's next suggestion, not because she finds it funny or amusing, but because just what would she say were she to face Seraphina again? Even if she has thought about this before, the question acts as an eraser and suddenly all of the remarks she has fantasized over have vanished! "I could only be so lucky to face her again," she starts to say. (Though she won't admit it, she isn't sure she could defeat in the queen in combat. She has faced her twice already and barely escaped with her life both Times. Each left her scarred in different ways too; what would a third duel be like?) She then decides to craft a story. "I suppose I've always imagined this happening in the throne room; I would kick the door down and without any other warning than that, I would pull my sword on her," even in her fantasies she never gives her opponents warnings before she strikes. "It would be a heated duel, one that would start fires with the passion that burns between us. But in the end, I would remember that she has a weak left knee," something the queen is very good at guarding, "and I would use that to my advantage to throw her off balance. With her sword and spears out of reach, I'd hold the tip of my blade under her chin." She stops for a moment as the images become so real in her head she almost thinks this could be happening, but the feeling of the dolphin beneath her reminds just where she is and she comes back to the moment. "I would say, 'May the Divinities recognize your lost soul and cast you into the nether. May this be the last iteration of your essence,' and then swipe my blade across her throat,” she finishes, though she is wholly unsatisfied with the ending. She knows she's imagined better final words, too, so it disappoints her that this is the best she can come up with. "Perhaps not that... I would hope it would be more memorable than that. Did you say anything to the Holy Vessel when you took her Life?"

Again, Iskra only leaves Verity with more questions. It's as if she wants the prisoner to pry and pry and pry until finally her bolted lips are opened for the unadulterated truth flies free. As it is, it seems like Iskra is dancing around the details and hoping this pretty veil will satisfy Verity. If the captain paid closer attention, then she might know that the prisoner always wants each and every detail so that she may paint a picture in her mind. Iskra only offers splatters on a canvas and not very evocative ones at that. "What were you asking for that was not meant for your hands to claim? And what is the curse of the old gods?" She tilts her head to the side, looking at the pirate with eyes that are eager for more. (If she says that she may as well tell Verity everything, then she would actually like to know everything.)
 
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Ah, what a colorful, colorful fantasy! Yet another shining gem that would one day adorn her necklace, if she actually found the courage to craft it. (Her own mind, Iskra knew, would never produce anything like that. On no, it couldn't. Grey and tired it was, like the ashes her ideals had brought, and nothing could grow in a place this devoid of life-- nothing, nothing, nothing! Nothing aside from despair, perhaps, which wasn't a plant the pirate wished to water. All of that, however? It was yesterday's news, plain and simple. Iskra had come to this realization months, nay, years ago, and buried her dreams even before they'd drawn their last breath. A shadow of a memory was all that remained now! Except that, as Verity spoke, she could feel the dead things stir. What were those movements, though? Post-mortem spasms, so cruel in their ability to resurrect hope, or... or something else, perhaps? A seed being touched by the first shy rays of sunshine and waking up, for it had never been dead at all? Maybe, instead of a fate that definitive, it had just been waiting for the winter to end-- patiently, oh so patiently, so that it could thrive. ...how dangerous these thoughts were! Better to put them aside, the pirate decided.) "No," she chuckled. "I said nothing. I suppose there wasn't anything left to say, after everything that transpired between us. It felt redundant. Besides, the Holy Vessel did love my attention, and I didn't want her to feel as if she was worth it. So, silence it was! Perhaps you could point out that she was a traitor to her people, though," Iskra offered good-naturedly. "These statements always generate drama."

Speaking of generating drama, though? Verity just had to dig deeper and deeper, and touch the exposed nerve. (Almost imperceptibly, Iskra flinched. Which, how ridiculous! It had been years by now, years and years and years, and yet, yet it felt like it had happened yesterday, with that black lightning tearing their sky apart. ...oh, the pirate still saw it whenever she closed her eyes, alright. Saw it and heard it, too-- both the anguished screams, and the accusatory whispers. 'Your fault, your fault, your fault!' 'Where is your protection now?' 'Is this why Lellenei died?!' And, in the centre of it all, the Pale Moon was hanging between the scarlet clouds, like a severed head of a giant. ...blood was flowing from the wound, too. So, so much of it! A veritable flood. Iskra would drown in it, it seemed, and the metallic taste felt so gross in her mouth, and-- and--) "Perhaps," the pirate began, her voice sharper than usual, "you should learn that there is virtue to be found in silence, too. Just a thought, princess."

***

The rest of their journey ended up being wrapped in it-- in silence, that was. (Did Iskra feel ashamed of her outburst? Well, yes, in part. Verity did not deserve such a treatment, after all! The captain wasn't delusional enough not to recognize that she'd lashed out in pain, just like a wounded animal might. To her anger, the princess was a mere bystander, and... and turning her into a convenient target couldn't be described as far, in any sense of that word. Still, at the same time? At the same time, Verity should have recognized that there were certain boundaries-- sensitive topics around which you only had to dance, oh so carefully, in order not to step on already bruised toes. She did know, didn't she? For she wasn't a child, caught up in her own fantasies! ...and, despite that, had the princess stepped inside of her personal bubble with all the grace of a bulldozer. So, in that sense, at least, Iskra felt her reaction to be justified.)

Verity had been branded with the mark, too, so the captain did not interfere with the process of restoration. It wasn't her place, you see? Her place was at Inure, to which they promptly returned afterwards. "If you'll excuse me," Iskra told Verity after parting with her dolphin, "I have to take care of some paperwork now." Of her diary, to be precise, but that, too, was something Verity didn't need to know. Recording her thoughts... oh, that was the very definition of personal! Especially when, lately, so many of them had revolved around the princess herself. "Thank you, Verity, for helping the dolphins. I appreciate it. I, uh, truly do, but I have to go."

Perhaps Verity might have been allowed to return to her cell then, except that fate had other plans. And, this time? This time, fate's will manifested itself via someone tugging on her sleeve. What the...? Ah, Saavika, of course. Who else would communicate in this way? The mute enigma of the crew apparently couldn't even write, or at least not in a script anyone else could read, so she was reduced to these... uh, attempts. Well, that, and to her friends' translations. (A lonely existence, was it not? Like living behind a looking glass, and not being able to touch anyone else.)

"Hello, princess," Eran, one of the aforementioned friends, smiled at her. (Saavika and Eran, if the rumor mill could be believed, were lovers-- apparently, Eran had the ability to read the other woman's mind, and thus also translated most faithfully. How did that relationship work? Only gods themselves knew, but both of them appeared reasonably happy in one another's presence. Something, something, don't fix what isn't broken.) "Forgive Saavika her enthusiasm," she continued, all bright and cheery. "She can get so excited from time to time, and then she forgets what is and isn't appropriate. We just... hehe... wanted to ask you something. You are a poet, right? In that case, are you perhaps familiar with the art of star-calling? Because we would like to call a star, and the best way to do that is through a poem. I heard so, at least."
 
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♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

And just like that this fairytale day has come to an end. With Verity pushing for more than she has earned and Iskra shutting her out before she even has the chance to realize that the ropes to the gate have been cut. The change is so startling to the prisoner that she doesn't even try to address it or apologize for her misstep. She allows the silence to pass over them and while it does feel tense, if not dipping into the territory of awkward, she fixes her gaze straight ahead and decides to not even look at the captain. Her jaw closes tightly as she stares off into the distance at all those stars who she does not recognize from this angle but maybe would if she were back on her own planet. (Idly, she muses what it must be like to shine long after your own lights have gone out. Quietly, she wonders if her Life will have such an impact––for her memory to live long after she has entered and passed through the Ether. It's not even a goal of hers, but since there is nothing else to occupy her imagination––especially not Iskra's tales of her rebellion––she decides to fix herself on this wondering.)

Once they reach the foremother's birthing point, affixing the healed piece that she had broken off earlier is a rather straightforward task; though she had foolishly hoped it would be met with more celebration. That perhaps Iskra would say something or they'd have another moment to marvel at the ethereal reef that sparkles and dazzles her like the stars do, but sullied by their silence she doesn't even enjoy the spectacular sight or the rejoice of the dolphins. She might review the memory later, but even she knows that will not be the same as basking in front of the actual physical object. Plus, the memory is tainted with so much bitterness over the pirate's cold shoulder that she likely will try and bury this; thankfully, that shouldn't even be hard with everything else that has transpired during their journey. (Her fight with Halen, for example, occupies her attention as well––still fighting with herself to justify her actions; some part of her knows, even despite her threat, that she most likely could still reach out to the other princess. She is as loyal as a dog to Verity, for some reason that she has never been able to decipher. Especially given how the princess regards her as some helpless thing that needs her expert guidance.)

Anyway, when they arrive back on Inure and she is not immediately escorted back to her cell, she does think to wander the ship as she used to. There are old rooms she would like to say hello to––though perhaps she should make herself small and return to her measly cell. The pirates aboard this ship still harbor such resentment towards her and she, unfortunately, does feel safer in the confines of her prison. Still, the proud princess in her that still believes she has as much a claim to this ship as they do, does not want to lose this potentially rare opportunity to explore once more; to keep her legs free and stretched since she cannot really do that in that cramped cell.

So, she parts ways with the pirate and is off to see the garden (perhaps to torture herself or perhaps to see if it still brings her the same joy it once did). However, before she can even take five steps away from the deck, she feels a pull on her sleeve and she almost expects Ylna or some other unfriendly face to be behind her, asking her where she thinks she's going, or maybe to threaten her... She doesn't know. When she does turn around she is not necessarily pleasantly surprised, but is surprised to see Saavika and Eran. "Oh, hello." (The rumors of the two have reached the princess's ears––working in the kitchens taught her a great deal many things about the dynamics that exist between the women aboard this ship. The rumor mill is almost always generated by the most menial tasks and that's precisely why she had chosen to offer her help down below; that, and she wanted to show the others she wasn't a princess who shied from labor.)

She tilts her head to the side, giving the women a questioning look and soon those silent questions are answered. The tension immediately washes away from the prisoner when she realizes they do not mean to give her a hard time or to do her any harm. Though she doesn't trust their friendliness just yet, she still beams at them both. "Thank you, but no apology is necessary––it is quite alright," she says as she listens to the rest of Eran's inquiry. She raises a brow at the request, but it is clear the ask intrigues her––excites her even. "Hmm, star-calling?" she asks, scratching her head to see if there is memory located somewhere in the depths of her brain that reminds of what this is. "Is that the art of bringing forth a star's essence to have a wish granted?" That is not a practice that exists among Verity's people, so she is guessing what this phenomena is based on the name alone. (However, if this is the practice of having a wish met through poetry there is the practice of crystal casting.)

"I am flattered that you sought me out––I would be happy to help you," she nods, smiling just a bit wider watching the pair in front of her. (The prisoner does have a soft spot for any couple that approaches her––watching their love and wondering what it's like to have a union so unfettered by the outside. How many times has she tricked herself into believing she had such an unshakeable love only for it to crumple on a pesky lover's whim for another? She doesn't really want to think about that. It only makes her think she'll never be worthy of the eternal romance she has always dreamed of.) "I assume it's a poem you need me to compose for you? Or would you like me to help you two compose one? You'll have to explain to me how this works––I apologize for my ignorance, but I wouldn't want to mess this up for you two."
 
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"See, see!" Eran clapped her hands, excited like a child. "See, Saavika, I told us she'd help. Now, don't look at me like that! It is my belief that, through cooperation, guilt can be lifted. What? No, of course not. Iskra has nothing to do with that, silly. Besides, she allowed Verity to roam free, didn't she? Or, if nothing else, then she at least didn't care enough to lock her up. In my book, that's as good as a permission to set her free! Right, princess?" ...wow. Who was the foolish one here, again? Because Saavika, with her slightly embarrassed smile, certainly couldn't be branded with that title. (Whatever star-calling was, the prospect must have pleased Eran greatly-- the sun itself seemed to visit her eyes, and oh, did it shine brightly.) "Yes, yes, of course. I shall explain. It's, umm..." Perhaps surprisingly, the woman blushed, and looked away from the princess. What on in the galaxy...? Saavika merely rolled her eyes, though, and proceeded to tug on her lover's sleeve instead. "Geez, so impatient. Give me some time, will you? It's not like you have to say it, dummy. Forgive us, Verity," she turned to the other woman, with her trademark bright smile. "Will you join us for a walk? I find it easier to talk when I'm in motion. It, uh, inspires my lips to move as well, and... wow, rude, Saavika. Can you believe her, princess? She's saying it's easier for me to talk then because, as I focus on moving my legs, I don't have the capacity left to worry about my words. I'm not saying it isn't true, but still! So, so rude. You just don't say these things to people, Saavika, and... ah, I see. I guess you really don't say these things to people."

Without waiting for Verity's response, Eran began walking towards... towards god knew what, really. Maybe there wasn't any particular goal? Or maybe, maybe she just wanted to get them closer to the railing, so that they might admire the stars from a better angle. "In short, yes. I'd like you to compose a poem for us! It's, umm, a specific poem, though. A very, very specific one. Saavika is Areandhal, you know?" Ah, now that would explain the strange, elegant script in which she wrote her notes-- the Areandhal writing system was notoriously complicated, to the point it had driven several philologists mad. (Urban legends claimed so, at least, and everyone knew that no better sources of information existed.) "And, well, Areandhals have this tradition. It's not a wedding tradition or anything like that, but it's a... pre-wedding tradition, I guess?" With some uncertainty, she looked at her partner, and she just nodded. (A pre-wedding tradition, huh. Well, no wonder that her cheeks were burning! While the rumor mill had confirmed that they were, indeed, together, it hadn't quite suggested that it was this serious.)

"Basically," Eran inhaled, "the stars have to judge whether we're good for one another. In some cultures, you ask your chosen one's parents, right? With them, though, we need to obtain a permission from the universe itself. Just, talk about pressure, man," she chuckled nervously. "And I am not that sure how it works, either, but Saavika says they can be moved with words? That, if we recite a poem that is convincing enough, they won't forbid us to follow our hearts. Only, I'm not a poet," Eran admitted, unconcealed dismay in her voice, "and Saavika here is... uh, pretty scientifically-minded, too. Unless, of course, you suggest not following stupid traditions we don't really understand. In that case, she's all about the 'importance of following in one's ancestors footsteps,' and-- ouch!" she scrunched her face, no doubt because Saavika delivered a swift kick in her shins. "Yeah, yeah, sorry I know! It's just hard, you see? I mean, the stars must have seen so many loves-- I imagine it won't be easy to impress them."

"Anyway," she turned back to Verity, "it's supposed to be a love poem. A love poem that would be about us, and, at the same time, honor the stars as well. You cannot compose it, I'm afraid, because that would be cheating. Still, you are the master storyteller here, princess, so I figured you could help. That you could teach us, if you'd agree." For a second or two, Eran fell silent-- the only sound she made was tapping on the railing with her fingers, quiet and rhythmical. "We won't ask your services for free, either. You may have one wish-- provided it doesn't clash with the captain's mission, of course. So, how do you even compose love poetry? What do you focus on? How do you make your words pretty? What's the best way of capturing your listener's attetion? I need to know everything, Verity."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕
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With each word spoken, Verity's own heart sings and her eyes seem to dance to the melody. There is nothing more special to her than matrimony and the pair in front of her seem so giddy and smitten, she can't help but to catch a little bit of that love-sickness as well. She claps her hands together and holds them over her chest, her smile stretching much wider than it had been before––nearly going from ear to ear, you might worry she'll split her face in two. "I would be delighted and most honored to help you with this request," she replies, as she joins Eran and listens to the rest of her explanation of this ritual.

And as the trio walk towards the railing and stare off at the stars, Verity cannot help but to observe all the little nuances of these lovers and the way their communication seems to flow like water through them. 'It must be nice to carry secret little conversations,' she muses when Saavika appears to send Eran another message. And eagerly, she listens as Eran further explains the Areandhal pre-wedding traditions––she finds herself quite intimidated by them as well. She wholly understands Eran's nerves and, at the same time, completely validates Saavika's want to keep with her traditions. "You mustn't disrespect the ancestors, Eran. They can still lay curses upon your essence––just because you're a descendant does not mean they will spare you mercy. We must respect them and the paths they have carved for us; if this is the sacred traditions of your people, Saavika, then we should honor them to the fullest," she says with a nod, her tone serious though her expression still bright as ever.

She props herself against the railing, but she must decide that is not nearly reckless enough for her tastes and hops to sit on top of the rail. (Perhaps to spite the pirate she's upset with––even if she is not here to witness this.) "The stars are wise, wise beings and I am sure they know to judge the affection of a coupling against only themselves. But I do understand the worry––that is quite intimidating." She taps her chin thoughtfully as her mind starts to go through all of the love poems she has ever heard, read, and composed. "Well, again, I am humbled by this request and that you think my talents so stellar that you would seek out my guidance," especially since no one else, save for Iskra, seems to want to talk to her. Though she will not dwell on that for too long, because here are two people who may have cast her out like just the rest, but with this simple request she sees it as invitation to get back in. Perhaps not with the rest of the crew, at least just not so soon, but if she can prove herself here, then maybe they will spread some good word about her... That she is not just a woman who would murder her... what even? Iskra had never been a lover, but she had been hers and so the word still feels right to use. Regardless, she does hope they can start to see something else in her. Something beyond her scales and fangs.

"The first thing you must know," she says, leaning forwards towards the couple, "is that poetry is our right and our duty. This is the language of our deepest self and to speak faithfully, we must not fret over right and wrong words, but we must fret over the honesty being poured into each stanza or line." Now, she hops off the railing and begins to walk away––perhaps thinking herself like one of those professors who insists on hosting class outdoors where they can have a walking lecture. There is no particular direction she is walking in, but, again, she may as well enjoy this temporary freedom for as long as it may last. "Even if we obfuscate our deepest selves with crafty, clever words, we still have a duty to make sure the deep self is speaking."

A little coy, she half turns her head to look back at her pupils with the smallest smile on her lips. "Now, since this is a love poem that you must compose, then I must inform you that these are both the most loving and cruelest muses that we poets have. I mean, there is a reason we write so faithfully on the topic––it's such a complex and personal experience. And we know that many species desires it and that, almost, makes it a universal language." Or feeling, but Verity doesn't think that needs to be distinguished. At least not in this context. "To tell a story of your love faithfully, Eran, you must ask yourself what it is about Saavika that inspires your soul to spend the rest of your Life with hers? What would Life be like without her? When you first met, did it feel as though you were learning to breathe for the first Time? What was your body trying to tell you when your lips first touched..." the prisoner trails off, catching herself going on a tangent––even if helpful, she doesn't want to overwhelm the already nervous pirate.

"I mean, when I write these things, I try to remember and most faithfully capture all of the physical sensations in my body that my mouth could not speak. I know this is all abstract, but poetry is like that––it's about touching the soul with that which is intangible," she then goes on to explain some of the various ways one might capture the abstract and to not only capture it, but make it sound as pretty as it feels (i.e., alliteration, rhyme, metaphor, rhythm, etc.).

And, finally, she ends her lesson with an example.

I lived in darkness once,
With clouds cast over my heart
With only Casanovas by my side
(Those who could make my body dance under the moonlight​
And those who tore my heart asunder by daybreak)​

Never have I––

Drowned so easily in ocean eyes
Sparkled so brightly under sunshine smile
Blossomed with such stirring madness

A rose garden, you made of me

Each word you spoke bound my soul
Each promise you made, cast a spell

Daringly,
Hopefully,

I thought perhaps
my sun may shine again ​

​
 
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Just like Iskra before, Saavika and Eran listened to the princess's lesson in silence. And how did they fare? Let's say that, uh, differently. Eran, despite her earlier scepticism, was fully focused-- her eyes rarely left Verity's face, and she punctuated every other other sentence of hers with a nod of her head. The only time when she did look away? Why, that was the moment she pulled out her notepad to jot something down! So precious her words were to the pirate, indeed, that they couldn't be lost to faulty memory. "Ah, ah, I see. Alliteration, huh. Could you please expand upon that? Like, I get it, but Saavika doesn't. She says it, ummm..." her forehead scrunched, "...that it doesn't sound poetic in Areandhal? And I think she'd like to compose her part of the poem in her mother tongue. Something about the words being too long, I think. I don't see how that is a problem, but... ah, okay, okay, I think I understand now, Saa'vi," Eran beamed at her partner, infinitely fond. "Basically, she says the words are so long that, by the time you arrive to the last letter, you forget what the first one even was. Therefore, the effect of repetition is lost! Crazy, if you ask me. Ouch," she frowned when Saavika's boot found her shins again. "Not fair! That wasn't even an insult," the younger woman pouted. "I just can't conceptualize it, you know? I will when I learn the language, though," she nodded again, determination shining in her eyes. "Anyway, Verity, do you have any experience with composing poetry for such a drastically different language? How do you make the words sound pretty if they're this long? As in, I'm getting the impression that flow is what is the most important thing here, but," she shrugged, "I dunno how to work with it."

Saavika's attention, on the other hand, jumped from place to place, similarly to a butterfly who couldn't remain faithful to a single flower-- rarely did she look at Verity directly, for she was too occupied with admiring the stars, playing with Eran's hair, scribbling something on the floor and about ten other (seemingly pointless) activities she invented to keep herself busy. (Wasn't this girl supposed to be a pyrotechnician? Because not being able to sit still did not seem like a good characteristic for someone who worked with, uh, volatile materials. ...then again, maybe this explained all the scars? Not a pleasant thought, probably, but yes.) At the same time, however, there was no doubt that Saavika knew precisely what was being said at any given time. All the comments, and the swiftness with which she reacted to her partner's jabs? Oh, it was obvious that the pirate had mastered the art of multitasking.

"Oooh," Eran clapped, once again excited. "Very evocative, princess Verity! Evocative enough, I believe, that it paints a picture of certain someone for me." Was it just a strange play of shadows, or did the woman seem somewhat amused? Perhaps, but the expression dissolved into neutrality before Verity had the time to inspect it properly. "Then again, I've been told poetry is subjective. Maybe I'm just connecting it to that certain someone because I know her, right? Although, if I'm correct," Eran winked at her, "I might be able to spare some useful info. Potentially." Saavika looked at her fiance with what seemed to be some degree of suspicion, though she probably said nothing this time-- her expression, which was the embodiment of 'do whatever you want, then' said it all.

"Anyway, I think I shall try crafting some verses now. Will you join me, princess? To review them, of course. I've heard that an, ah, stimulating environment is important when you want inspiration to visit you, so I was thinking of doing it in the captain's garden." A strange emphasis was placed on the word 'captain'-- did she perhaps know? Man, was Eran more dangerous than she seemed. "Besides, don't think I've forgotten about your payment. You've helped us tremendously, Verity, so this is something we still need to discuss. Of course, if you can't think of anything right now, you may save your wish for later, but I must admit, I don't like being in debt."

Apparently convinced that Verity would go with them, the duo headed towards the glasshouse-- Saavika sort of skipped forward, maybe bouncing with excitement, while Eran remained close to the princess. "You know, Verity, I'm not going to lie. I don't really think I understand you, after everything that happened," everything being the murder, probably, "but you don't strike me as a bad person. And, uh, shit can be fixed. I think. Like yeah, there is unfixable shit as well, but I wouldn't really say that-- oh." What, exactly, did she mean to say? Verity wouldn't learn that, not in this life at least-- mostly because the garden consumed Eran's attention now. The garden, or what was left of it, anyway.

All that greenery from before? It was gone, along with all the color-- the flowers had turned dry, brittle, lifeless. Even the buzzing of the insects that had lived there had gone quiet, for there was nothing for them to feed on. A sweet smell of decay hung in the air, entirely overwhelming, and... No, this wasn't a garden anymore. This was a grave!
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

"Hmm," the prisoner hums, once more tapping her chin as she thinks about this inquiry. To be honest, she has never thought about the structure of poetry in other languages––though she imagines that poetry is something so universal that Saavika's people must have invented schemes or patterns to follow. "That is a very good question and, to be honest, I am not sure. I've never written in such a language with words that are so long you forget their beginnings. I imagine then that alliteration would not be the device you would want to use. After all, you don't have to use all the ones I listed." She's not confident in her answer, mostly because she did not answer the question at all, but it does feel better than fumbling around at a guess. "Saavika, do you know of poets from your homelands? Perhaps Iskra has some books in her library that we could browse through for examples," and maybe she would like to visit the library as well. It is so awfully boring being locked away with only mealtimes as a guarantee that she'll see someone, it doesn't even necessarily promise that she will have company.

Carefully, Verity watches both individuals and the way they interact with each other and herself. She decides that she adores this couple and is quietly hoping that the stars approve of their flame as well, because if this is not proof of love then she really does not know what love is or could be. For a second, she considers telling them this, but then Eran comments on her own poem and her cheeks color immediately. She doesn't even bother to hide it as there is not many ways that she can, especially since she has been caught red handed––despite her hands no longer bearing that stain! "Oh, I haven't the slightest idea to what you are referring, Eran," she replies, though her tone is light and of faux-surprise. Perhaps she should not have been so obvious, but she didn't really feel like dredging up a poem from the distant past. The last time she did that she ended up in tears. Besides, it's not as though... well, okay, the feelings are somewhat current but that poem had been written before everything had happened so she doesn't really think it fully reflects how she feels now. "Poetry can be very, very tricky... But I suppose I would not deny myself the chance to learn more about the possible subject of the poem. You know, just in case you are correct."

With the very mention of the garden, Verity cannot hide the twinkle in her eye that gives away her excitement to anyone who is observant. "I think the garden would be a lovely place to compose poems," after all it may be where several of her most recent works had sprouted. It's hard to not think of poems when the person whose affection you seek is standing to prettily among all the flowers and sea of green. (Though there is a twinge, a minor Pain, that pricks her heart thinking about the garden as well. She cannot fix herself on that, however, because Eran has already set her sights on this location and Verity does not want to dampen her fun. Besides, if she is convinced that this place will inspire her, then Verity cannot go against that––the muse is too fickle to deny her her wants.)

As they walk towards the glasshouse, she thinks both of what she might ask for as payment in return as well as listens to Eran's words. They warm her, just knowing one person (perhaps two, depending on whether or not Saavika agrees with her partner's assessment) does not think she is a bane of their existence. She wants to take this second chance to prove herself seriously––without the games she had tried to play before. (Which she even can admit she did not play very well given how suddenly she acted taking out the queen, forgetting there are still so many other players on the board to worry about.)

However, when Eran stops and Verity turns her attention to the garden, her heart sinks. Then drops. Then shatters. 'It's as dead as I left her,' she thinks, feeling tears start to well in her eyes. 'No, you will not cry over this, Verity. Come on, pick yourself up.' She tightens her hands into fists and holds her breath for a few beats, before she releases the stress from her body. She does not give herself more than that to process what has happened to the garden; she doesn't bother making guesses either, because she doesn't want to let herself assume the worst. Though she does make a note to ask Iskra about this later, however. "Well," she begins, looking at Eran without the faintest hint of her own internal devastation, "this may not be the inspiring venue that you require. May I suggest another location?"

Without waiting for a response, she waves her hand and encourages the couple to follow her. "If you don't mind my asking... when did you two start to develop feelings for one another? Was it love at first sight? Or was it a slow-burn romance that took years to develop?" Oh, she is very desperate to know just how these two met and fell in love––though that is entirely because of her investment in all things related to love. And, maybe, it is related to her own desire to learn just how love works or even what makes it work in the first place. (For all the lovers she has had, none of have ever given her the romance she has been waiting for.)

As they walk, she takes them further inside of the ship and is careful to avoid any hallways that seem too populated with pirates––still trying to avoid any potential conflict. At a seemingly unassuming point, she stops abruptly and turns to face a blank wall. She places her palm against the wall and, as always, it glows beneath her touch and an opening shimmers to life. Inside this room, there only seems to be an endless expanse of fluffy cotton candy colored clouds, floating aimlessly around a soft pink backdrop––it's even hard to trust that once you step foot into this place you will not fall into some pink abyss. "I haven't showed this to the captain," there is still much the pirates don't know about Inure, "but this room, I believe, was used to stave off boredom. I probably found this days prior to," Iskra's murder, "being returned to my cell."

"Anyway, if you sit atop any of these clouds, you can get lost in daydreams, fantasies, or even immerse yourself in past memories. This could be an excellent place for inspiration!" she beams, already hurrying them towards a trio of clouds that have gravitated towards them. She hops onto one and sits on it with her legs crossed over each other. "It's quite delightful."
 
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"A-ah. Yes. Yes, that is a good idea," Eran nodded before averting her gaze from all the destruction. "I mean, this could be an inspiring spot for writing an epitaph or two, but that's not what we're shooting for here, is it, Saavika?" The smile that graced Saavika's lips in response was petulant, almost, though in the end, she did give her partner a thumbs up. (...did she perhaps not mind? Because, unlike Eran, the other woman didn't seem to be bothered by the sight. No, what shone in her eyes was... something badly identifiable, really, except that it stood somewhere between excitement and fascination. Where exactly did it fall on that scale, however? That was hard to tell, and Eran didn't feel like sharing that particular information.) Either way, both women agreed with her proposition-- which meant they didn't have to compose poetry in this graveyard. A small victory to be sure, but a victory nonetheless!

Eran and Saavika walked side by side, their step in sync-- almost as if their hearts contained the same navigation system, really, or as if they danced to some strange melody only the two of them could hear. "Oh," Eran chuckled in delight, "you're gonna regret asking this question, Verity. It is quite a story, you see! And, no, Saavika," she rolled her eyes, "it's not because I'm being long-winded. I'm just providing important details. How is Verity to form a proper impression if she doesn't have the access to all the information, huh? Obviously, she cannot do that. So, the score is 1:0 for me! Or rather, about 344:12 for me, but I'm being gracious enough to not count our old matches. To give you at least a semblance of chance, my love," the woman smirked before sending her an air kiss. And Saavika? Saavika giggled, in a way that somehow seemed both fond and exasperated.

"But, back to the topic," Eran turned to Verity. "No, it wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't love at second or third sight, either. Saavika was originally a bounty hunter, you see-- one of the many that were sent to obtain Iskra's head. People just never learn, do they? And like, yeah, I suppose if they literally severed her head, she wouldn't revive, but still. It's not easy to kill her." ...unless, of course, you stood close enough to kiss her. Unless you did it, too, because kisses could be such a fun, fun distraction. "Anyway, Saa'vi here failed. Iskra liked her methods, though, because they were, uh, flashy. You wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at her, but I swear she's half a magpie! If she ever dropped the oh-I'm-so-unworthy-of-nice-things act, I'm sure she'd be covered in jewellery from head to toe, doubtlessly. Or maybe it is enemies that she likes to collect, hmm? What do you think?" With that, Eran looked at Verity in a very suggestive way-- 'do you have anything to add to that, princess?' her eyes said. "Because almost half of the crew members wanted to kill her at some point. Not even exaggerating," she proceeded to clarify. (Which, how shrewd! Just subtle enough for plausible deniability, and yet obvious enough that the implication was bound to reach the princess's ears.) "Communicating with Saavika was... difficult, however, for obvious reasons, and so they hired me. Yep, I'm mostly here because of her. One of the few non-combatants. And, uh, I kinda resented her at the beginning? 'Cause she's a bit of an acquired taste. Yeah, yeah, Saa'vi, I know. She's saying it's the same case for me, really, but I wouldn't trust her. I am crazy popular and have a lot of friends." (That, at least, seemed to be true-- women tended to flock to Eran during their frequent drinking sessions, mostly since she knew exactly what to say at any given moment. Wanna hear a funny story? Go to Eran, most of the pirates agreed.)

"As much as I love her, she's just not a trustworthy source. But I guess I learned to appreciate the chaos. Like, my life was kinda boring before, you know? But with Saa'vi, every day is just so totally different and fun and, um, I realized one day that I didn't really want this to end," Eran admitted, with a blush blooming on her cheeks. "And that she's hot. ...what? That factor is important, too."

The room Verity had chosen for them? That seemed to impress the women, too-- while Saavika touched one of the clouds with quiet incredulousness, as if she expected them to bite her, Eran straight up jumped into her seat. "Wheee!" she laughed. "Oh gods, Verity, this is so much fun. Yeah, I'm sure that composing poetry here will be a breeze. Hmmm, hmmm. Comparisons to nature are nice, aren't they? I might compare Saavika to a lizard, perhaps-- lizards are super cute. On the other hand," her forehead crinkled, "it doesn't really sound cute? The word, I mean. What an injustice! Such a cute concept as lizards should have an appropriately cute label as well." Swiftly, Eran pulled out her notebook, and began writing something down. "This is going to take a while, I'm afraid. So! Is there anything in particular you'd like to know about that certain someone, princess? If I were to offer some info on my own, I'd say she's shockingly fond of sweets-- marzipan especially. Also, also, you know what nettles are? Those annoyingly green, tall things that hurt to touch. Well, Iskra said once that they reminded her of home. Apparently, they grew like crazy in her homeland, so people living there used them for literally everything. They even made clothes from them! Like, can you believe? It must feel terrible against your skin, although I suppose she is the kind of person who would enjoy that. Hurrr durrr, gotta punish myself," Eran grimaced. "Anyway, I do know that the captain loves nettle soup, or nettle tea. I'm not sure whether that's the sort of thing you're after, though. Well?"
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Learning that Saavika is another one of Iskra's questionable hires only reminds Verity of their earlier argument––not the content, per se, but the revelation that accompanied it. The one where she realized that Iskra is a well disguised fool who can wield a sword nearly better than anyone she has ever seen. Though Verity does not want to reduce her to such basics, the captain more or less provided all the evidence herself; coupled with all of the teasing she has heard from the crew themselves, she knows it is quite true too. How Verity had remained so ignorant to this, despite all the flags that signaled the captain's stupidity, is beyond her––nevermind the prisoner's long and well documented history of idealizing anyone who catches her eye. A dangerous affliction she has been warned about on numerous occasions, one that has broken her heart more times than she can count, and through all of that she has never learned. Or rather, she is just starting to learn. (You would think she would have tired of this long ago.)

However, that is not where Verity wants to focus her attention; focusing on that will only sour her mood and she does not want to have sour feelings around a couple that is so sweet. 'How lucky for them to have been brought together by the Divinities,' though she stops her thought there lest she start to wander into territory regarding her abysmal tries at romance. Besides, Eran's subtle jab at her does not go unnoticed and she merely raises a brow in return to her silent inquiry and with her following clarification, she sees no reason to address it further. She will pretend it was a mere coincidence, though she notes to be watchful––not that she has not already been, but this is a somewhat kind reminder that her enemies are not only back home, they are on this ship as well. (Perhaps she made even more enemies for herself earlier when she fought Halen and threatened her Life. Just who are her allies even? Is she alone? Because she wouldn't necessarily claim that Iskra is an ally––not anymore. She's her captor more than anything else. How could she mean anything more to Iskra after she showed her fangs? Even if she hopes to make amends, somehow, she is not foolish enough to think her place is any different than it were yesterday.)

Anyway, watching the pirate's glee as she hops onto one of the clouds provides enough distraction that she is able to pull herself from her prior thoughts; instead, she can now fascinate herself with the concept of making lizards sound as cute as they truly are. She is about to say something about them being a completely appropriate subject for poetry, but she stops herself to eagerly listen to the information about the not subject of her earlier poem. "Does she now?" the prisoner says, with her brow raised. "Well, perhaps I will keep that in mind. In the event we are talking about the same person––after all, Eran, it is not wise to make assumptions lest you make an ass out of yourself," she smiles politely, though she obviously means nothing by the comment. It's just banter to her and besides, it is quite clear who the woman is that made her into a rose garden. Though, rather than think of more questions to ask––much too tired from the day's events––she decides to recline in the cloud and let those wisps of cotton worm into her ears; images flash against of the back of her eyelids, playing a story of her own creation. Just before she fully slips away, she turns to Eran and says, "Oh, um, if you are adamant about payment, now that you have put it on my mind, I have a sudden craving for marzipan."

.............​

A day later, Verity once more finds herself invited out of her cell to take a short walk around the ship. Perhaps her good behavior has helped reestablish trust or perhaps the captain pities her existence in confines of a prison. In any case, she does appreciate the Time given to stretch her legs out and breath air that is not so dank it makes her feel as though mildew must be growing in her own lungs. With her hands clasped behind her back, she follows Iskra and stares down at her feet as she tries to decide on a topic to discuss. One keeps needling at the back of her mind and since it won't go away, she finally looks up at the pirate and says, "You know, I haven't been to the garden in some time," some time can refer to various time frames so technically she does not think she is lying, "I was wondering if we could spend a moment there?"
 
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This is becoming a tradition, Iskra thought, sourly, as she stared on the blank page. Ah, so overwhelming the whiteness was! It felt as if it was staring right back at her, in this half-annoyed and half-expectant way-- 'What are you thinking about?' it asked her, its voice gentle. (More than anything else, it resembled the sound of a quill gliding across paper.) 'Do you not wish to give me a purpose? Then fill me! Fill me, quickly, before your memories are swallowed by the Shade.' And, normally? Normally, that would have been the easiest thing in the world. To Iskra's brain, you see, writing had become as easy as breathing-- the right words came to her automatically, unbidden, just like bees sought out flowers on their own. (...probably because she had given so much to them, really. It had always been her theory that words could sense whether you were treating them with care, and flocked to you if you did. How could they not? They carried ideas, emotions, even, which meant they must have understood them as well. Nothing in this galaxy existed in a vacuum! The weight of existence deformed everything if given enough time, and you were always deformed by that which lay in your proximity. Therefore, slowly, the essence of the meanings that words bore must have have seeped into them, just like it happened with blood and fabric. In this way, Iskra was sure, some kind of self-awareness had been born-- so, it wasn't really inaccurate to call them her friends. That was exactly what they were!)

...except that her friends had been giving her the silent treatment. Not every day, of course, but way more often than they had in the past. (Curiously enough, it appear they didn't like, uh, a certain topic. And that topic? Princess Verity, unsurprisingly. When it came to her, all words left Iskra-- abandoned her, really, and left her to fend for herself. What a tragic, tragic fate! Even more tragic, however, was that she wasn't truly alone. No, it was her and these... these confused feelings, so tangled in one another that Iskra didn't know where affection began and where hatred ended. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning, in one giant spiral, and, by the Shade! If there was an end to this, the pirate didn't see it.)

That night, Iskra slept terribly. She tossed and turned, and the dreams that came to her were like mosquitos-- they latched onto her and stung, and flew away before she could deliver justice to them. So, when the pirate woke up? It felt as if she hadn't closed her eyes at all! (And, in a way, that was exactly what had happened. Technically, they had been closed, of course, but images had flickered behind them incessantly-- Verity, standing way too close. Verity, choosing her in place of Halen. Verity, and the way her coat dropped on the coat. The softness of Verity's lips, contrasted with the sharpness of her blade. Ah, so many dualities could be found within the princess! Like a magnet composed of two opposite fields-- and, just like that magnet, it both attracted and repulsed Iskra at the same time. What would win out in the end, though? The captain didn't even dare to guess. The cocktail of her feeling was just so unstable, so volatile, that trying to predict the reactions that would take place within seemed to be a recipe for failure.)

In the morning, however, the sliding scale between 'attraction' and 'repulsion' moved slightly towards the former. Why not, after all? The princess had saved the dolphins, Iskra reasoned, and so she deserved some kind of reward for her efforts. (...is that supposed to be the reward? Your presence? some voice inside of her taunted. How very presumptuous, captain.) Nonetheless, Iskra ignored the doubts. Even if Verity didn't appreciate her per se, she would definitely enjoy some degree of freedom, wouldn't she? It was too early to let her out of her cell, probably, but the occasional walk would allow her subordinates to get used to the idea. In time, when she earned their trust again, perhaps Iskra could... Oh, by the Shade. What am I thinking, even? She tried to kill me! (...it wasn't like that meant anything at all, though. Would you, after all, get mad at a friend for spilling sauce on a shirt of yours that had already been torn beyond repair? Because that was what the princess had done, roughly. Iskra hadn't lost anything at all, for there had been nothing to lose.)

"Good morning, princess," the pirate greeted Verity, hiding behind her usual mask of neutrality. "Shall we go, then? I was thinking we could observe the stars today, and..." Oh. Alright. Alright, then! The princess had different plans, to put it lightly, and they did not align with hers. (The garden. Once, it had brought her solace-- a semblance of purpose in the cold, uncaring universe. Now, though? The word slid directly her skin, sharp like the bone blade that had rended her flesh, and... no. No, no, no! Never, for as long as she still breathed. The place was cursed, full of unquiet ghosts-- both those of her own making, and the ones summoned by Verity. Disturbing them, she figured, wouldn't lead to a pleasant end.)

"No," Iskra blurted out, not even attempting to soften the blow. (Verity hadn't softened hers, either. Why should she look for sympathy in her own heart, then? The Shade knew it was an ugly, shrivelled thing, and could hold nothing of the sort anyway.) "I... I have no desire to, princess," the pirate swallowed. "I've decided not pursue such childish endeavors anymore. Do you remember the time when you wondered why a pirate would find joy in such a thing? You were right, I've discovered since then. So, don't ask it of me. From now on, I wish to focus on that which is truly important. Distractions will only ever stand in my way."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

Ever observant, Verity notes everything about the captain after her question has left the prison of her lips. While she does not know why the captain has abandoned her garden, one she remembers her cherishing––or at least finding some comfort in it, she strung together several theories soon after she had seen its deserted state yesterday. Then she allowed those theories to tear her apart over the course of the night, unsure of how to interpret this. At the same time, she isn't even sure why she cares so much about it in the first place. Obviously, she had enjoyed it too and they had spent many precious moments there together––but does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? To focus herself on Iskra's garden? (Well, it is also more than likely that the prisoner remembers, in perfect clarity, when she had watered the flowers with Iskra's very blood. That memory, unfortunately, is what she associates with the garden and she does wonder if now the same is true for the captain as well.)

Her answer comes to her in an instant and the exiled is immediately suspect of the truth behind Iskra's words. (Nevermind that she is hurt Iskra won't be truthful with her; then she also questions her own right to demand such honesty from someone she has been half-true with. Until recently, that is.) She makes no show of her disappointment and seems to let go of the request entirely. "Fine, to the stars it is then," she says, deciding to step in front of the captain and make her way towards the deck and ambling towards her favorite lookout point. She remains quiet for the entirety of the walk there, finding nothing she really wants to talk about. Not with a liar at least. (Oh, hush, she realizes the irony.) She retreats inward and thinks about all the days that have followed since the murder. How she isn't really sure what to make of Iskra, or maybe it's that she doesn't know what Iskra makes of her. Everything around them feels so fragile and tense. Even despite yesterday's trick of normalcy, does she trust that they are truly moving beyond something that Verity, herself, cannot even get herself to move past? Her cracked facade may never recover; people may always see that there is a dangerous creature beneath her Beautiful mask. She wouldn't really blame them given her track record for betrayal. (First the queen, then Iskra, and most recently Halen––with her loyalties always wavering, she knows there is little hope for her reputation as someone trustworthy.)

When they reach the spot that Verity has selected she leans against the rail and looks over the expanse of stars. "From this angle, from this distance, can you spot the guiding stars that exist on your planet?" The question comes out before she can stop it. This isn't the topic of inquiry on her mind and yet she wringing herself trying to find the right words to ask just how come the garden has become some childish thing to Iskra. She doesn't look at the captain, in fact, it seems as though she is purposefully avoiding her gaze. (Even through her peripheries, she tries to not register the the outline of the other woman.)

"Nevermind that––that was a silly question. Childish even. We mustn't distract ourselves with juvenile delights, isn't that right, captain?" she asks, raising a brow though still looking towards the sea of space. She isn't even trying to hide her attack against the captain's prior admittance. It's obvious in her choice of words. Still, she decides to continue. "Just because I wondered what use a pirate has for a garden does not mean that I thought it was invaluable," she really hadn't had the Time to place judgment on the idea, because it had fascinated her rather immediately. "Gardens are the perfect classroom for learning of Nature and Life," and Death, "and the importance of patience and care. You said it gave you something to do during these long, dreadful travels. Have you decided that boredom is your new mate?"

The prisoner does not stop there, however, still finding more ways to grill the captain. "You know, that garden is your responsibility. You are her mother––you brought all those flowers and lush grass to Life, watched over her and cared for her... And now you're abandoning her and leaving her to starve." Daringly, she finally looks at the captain and asks the question she has been avoiding, "How could you neglect the garden?" (Somewhere, some part of Verity is screaming at her to remain quiet, because there is so much attached to the garden. More than it being a hobby or a Beautiful venue to write poetry––she knows it has been cursed by her deplorable self. Yet, she cannot help but to approach this subject in this way. This not necessarily being the garden, but more broadly just trying to figure out what Iskra even thinks of her own murder at the hands of someone who had been kissing her. She has given so little that Verity does not know whether to suspend herself in the wishful dream that this is something to move past, or to accept her defeat and fulfill her promise to the pirate so that she can be on her merry way.)
 
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Ah. Good. Quietly, Iskra had been dreading that Verity wouldn't let the topic go-- that, like a bulldog, she'd sink her teeth into it and bite harder, harder and harder, till the victim drew its last breath. (The victim, of course, being her. A funny parallel, huh? And a damn funny situation as well, considering that she was the big, scary pirate here. Why would her own prisoner frighten her? Why would anything frighten her, actually? Fear was born from the concept of death, always lurking behind your own shadow-- from the prospect of having all those possibilities taken away from you, in one fell swoop. The sun kissing your skin? Never again. The wind playing with your hair? Never again. The taste of snowflakes of your tongue? Never, never, never again! ...none of that concerned Iskra, though. She could do all these things if the fancy struck her, of course, but what would be the point? These little joys would be wasted on someone like her, just like the beauty of colors would be wasted on one who never bothered to take off her blindfold. Casting pearls before swine, truly. ...and, besides, weapons didn't need to have their souls nourished, anyway. The last time she had tried had been enough of a deterrent, and Iskra wasn't dumb enough to fall into the same trap twice. Not even if it was a trap as sweet as Verity's words! Especially not then, in truth.)

"I... I don't think so? We are very far from my planet, princess," Iskra said, preparing to delve deeper into her explanations, but the other woman's response stopped her in her tracks. Just, what? What was she talking about, actually? Because, despite the stars being at the forefront, there was something else shining through. A topic behind a topic, disguised and yet strangely accentuated! (The thing was, she knew. On some level, the pirate had known even before the Verity had opened her mouth-- perhaps because she had given up on the garden so easily that it must have been a feint, really. How come that a swordfighter as experienced as her hadn't anticipated it? All the warning signs flew under her radar, and Iskra found herself wide open!) "I don't..." she began, unsure of where to take this. How to explain that which couldn't be explained, after all? The ghostly blade that tore her flesh, again and again and again, dwelled in her mind-- the flowers couldn't be faulted for its existence, and yet she'd made them suffer for it. (Ah, poor children, so callously tossed away! They were the victims here, not her. Still, every war had its casualties, and Iskra had already said her goodbyes. How come Verity hadn't? Was she not aware that the scorched earth policy did, indeed, leave behind a wasteland? She had sown these seeds, whether knowingly or not, and now she had the nerve to complain of the fruits tasting too bitter. The insolence! ...even so, yet another conflict wouldn't solve anything. Lies, Iskra thought, would pave the way to reconciliation.) "I do not need to learn these lessons anymore, princess. For me, there is nothing to be gained from this endeavor. I... suppose it just took me a while to realize, is all. Often, my eyes just don't see far enough. I've told you before, haven't I? So, let us move onto greener pastures."

It could have ended with this sentence, without more words being wasted. That way, the fragile peace among them could still be preserved, you see? Iskra had lied and Verity probably knew she had lied, but accepting the lie-- oh, that would have been an olive branch. 'I see you don't wish to talk of this,' the act would have said, 'and I recognize it. I respect it, and I respect you.' Which, hahaha! The pirate would have laughed outloud, truly, had her throat not felt so terribly, terribly tight instead. (Respect her, huh. Just how far did her delusions stretch? Obviously, things didn't need to be respected. They weren't there to inspire deeper feelings, such as gratitude or affection or, Shade forbid, thoughtfulness-- they were to be used, used, and used, and then discarded when they couldn't fulfil their intended purpose anymore. That, at least, was one of the first lessons the Holy Vessel had taught her! ...good to know it still applied, Iskra supposed. Certainties provided an anchor, you see, even if that anchor happened to be stuck in your flesh.)

So, no, it didn't end. What was more, Verity came not with an olive branch, but with a sword-- only, this time? This time, her tongue was the blade. "How could I neglect it?" Iskra asked, slow and deliberate. "You knew, then. You knew, and yet you tried to bait me. What were you hoping to gain by the act, princess? Were you looking forward to seeing the graveyard, perhaps?" If so, then look no further than my own soul. "Don't be stupid, Verity," she scoffed, her voice dripping with poison. (Reminding her of her duties... ahh, that hurt, alright. It hurt so much, in fact, that something twisted within her wanted to hurt her right back. An eye for an eye, right? Right. The one principle that ruled above all, across all the judicial systems!) "Just like you knew of its state, you also know why I don't wish to go there anymore. Do you truly want me to say it? Why? Do you maybe wish to relive that moment? Oh, no wonder, no wonder. I imagine it must have made you feel quite powerful! It is a rush, isn't it?" Iskra's lips curled up in a cold, cruel smirk. (Her only armor, really. Please, please, don't let it shatter!) "To end a life, and so brazenly at that. Congratulations, from the bottom of my heart, for it was masterfully done. If you wish to commemorate the event, however, I'm afraid you'll have to go alone. The Iskra who tended to her garden is dead, you know? I thought you were aware of how these things worked."
 

♕ PRINCESS VERITY (EXILED) ♕​

The pirate continues to insult her with her blatant lies and Verity will have none of that. Not because she necessarily believes that she deserves the truth, but because Iskra does not even have the decency to make her lie good or the least bit believable. Is she really expected to believe that the captain truly believes she has no more use for lessons that must be continually revisited to ensure mastery over them has stuck? Oh, she knows Iskra is a fool but perhaps she needs to reassess that judgment to see the idiot beneath all of those infuriating layers! "Greener pastures?" she asks, her brow arches so high it may as well fly off her face. "Is that really the metaphor you want to use here, hm?" She certainly delivers the line as a question, but her tone suggests that there are only wrong answers if Iskra is stupid enough to try to come up with an answer. Instead of clarifying, however, she decides to wait and see if Iskra will take this bait as well. (And just what is the prisoner trying to gain from all of this? Clarity, that is for certain, yet she is vying for more than just that with her choice of words and how she presents this particular topic. In another Life she may have been better with hiding her attacks and dancing around her opponents so they did not know exactly her position, but as of late? As of late she has lost that edge; perhaps out of practice or perhaps that part of herself, the princess, is still exiled.)

Oh, but when she is caught in the trap she had set? She doesn't bark or cry out, instead everything about her posture suggests that she is about to double down and chew her own leg off. With each word that trickles from Iskra's lips, she lets that poison seep into her and infect her heart with all its ugliness. (Ugliness, she awakened and invited to this table.) What seems to set her toppling over the edge is the almost deliberate use of her title versus her name––'Don't be stupid, princess' would have been worlds, galaxies apart even from 'Don't be stupid, Verity.' Her eyes flash, then harden as she stares directly at the captain, refusing to look away from her. "Oh, yes, I know of your negligence, captain," somehow making the title sound as if she were addressing a maggot, "And what did you hope to gain from lying? Hiding your shame, hm? It's a garden, not the end of the world. There is nothing to lie about when it comes to a house of dead flowers. I do not see what you hoped to gain from hiding the truth."

Even as the truth is revealed, the prisoner does not back down or shy away from her own guilt. In fact, she seems insulted by Iskra's suggestion. But at least she knows now just what Iskra thinks of the situation and just how she regards Verity––reduced to a bloodthirsty princess and nothing more, but perhaps a whole lot less if she chooses to dig this grave deeper. (Yes, she can see Iskra's point––why go back to that place, together, when only seeds of corruption remain. Nothing good could have ever come from going back there. Verity knows this. Verity knew this. Bringing up the garden at all had been a step into no woman's land as far as anyone could tell. A Death sentence from the start.) "Oh, that's exactly what I had hoped, Iskra. To relive my most glorious moment," the moment where she fell from grace, her most shameful moment to add to the trove of others that have stitched up the entirety of her existence. "I thought you would want to share that with me, since you were there to witness it as well. I thought, perhaps you would be proud of your pupil," each word she knows she'll regret later, but later is not now so she continues to let the vitriol spill like a waterfall that has no choice.

(How can she have gone from promising her service and loyalty to the pirate to this? In the span of only a day, the switch seems to have flipped. Or there is the likely possibility that Verity does not see this as going against the promise she had made yesterday. Those words are still true to her. It's just that her confusion has its limits and perhaps this rise she is trying to get out of the pirate is a test to see just what is left of Iskra's affection. Or maybe she is trying to drain that affection and spare the pirate further suffering. It's impossible to know what goes through Verity's head in Times such as these, because the clarity she uses to home in on her target is shaded in red.)

"But, no. That is not why I asked and I thought you would know me a little better than to assume I'd want to relive that moment," she finally clarifies, though her words still come down like lightning from angry Mother Nature. Again, while the question had been used as a vessel to get to this point, that is seeing just what is left for her in the pirate, she hates the assumption that she ever relished in killing her. As if she were that blood crazed that wetting her lips with blood after tasting those sweet supple lips for herself is what she had truly, truly wished for. That that had been her intention. To be some leech. Some blight on this existence and the Cosmos. "That it did not once occur to you that perhaps I would have wanted to create something new in that place? Redefine the garden for us both so that we may have started fresh? Don't get me wrong, captain, I admit it is much too early to reconcile––it was foolish for me to think otherwise, of course, but to think that your mind went there first? Well, then, there is no hope for you to ever understand me. So perhaps, we ought to keep things formal so as to not get the wrong idea. I wouldn't want that foolish little head of yours getting confused."
 
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Well? What, indeed? Because, as much as Iskra resented this entire conversation, Verity did bring up a valid point. Why had she chosen this path, exactly? There was power in choices, you see, and examining the threads that had led her to them, in the same way a marionette was guided by her strings, could be a game-changer-- like reading the rules properly after years of playing, and realizing you could have been drawing five cards instead of two this entire time. (Shame, huh. Could it really be shame? How absurd! Blood could never be washed away from her hands, Iskra knew, and yet, yet she chose this to feel guilty over. Not all those lives lost, or countries toppled, or fields trampled-- no, a garden, tiny and insignificant. A mere speck of dust in the context of the galaxy, truly, which nobody but her would ever miss. Twisted priorities, weren't they? ...twisted priorities for a twisted woman, yes. Somehow, this checked out. So long they'd forced her to bend her back, to beg and crawl on her knees, that the ground was all she allowed herself to see. Raising her gaze to meet the sun had been a crime as well, you know? So, naturally, the pirate had found comfort in that which was even lower than her! In dirt and filth and, yes, perhaps in prisoners as well.) "Maybe," Iskra finally said, slow and deliberate, "I just wanted this knowledge for myself. Is that so wrong in your eyes? Must I always give and give and give, according to whatever your whims happen to demand at the moment? Once, you claimed that you weren't like the other princesses in my life-- that you were different. Did you mean that, Verity, or were those just pretty words to adorn yourself with? Shiny pearls to wear in your hair? Because it seems to me you like the idea of being different, but not what it truly entails."

Words fell from her lips uncontrollably, like snowflakes during a storm, and by the Shade, did Iskra feel as if a storm was raging inside of her chest! A violent one, too-- the kind that could tear down your house, and fell trees as well. (Just... she had trusted her, you see? Trusted, trusted, trusted! Despite the alarm bells going off in her head, despite her knowing this wasn't hers to take, Iskra dared to extend her hand into the unknown, and what did she get for her trouble? The princess chopping it off the second it had left the safe zone. ...a bloody stump was all that remained, really. A bloody stump, and phantom pain in the fingers she no longer had. A strange numbness in her lips, too-- she could still feel Verity there, taste her, and the flavor made her stomach churn. It felt like she'd branded her for eternity, somehow. The kiss had been a seal, and just like all good seals, it just wouldn't go away! The ghost of it was so, so heavy, and it was getting harder to breathe, and-- and-- oh. Oh. So that was what was hidden in her heart. Good to know, Iskra supposed.)

Verity's words were needles, and she was jabbing them under her nails-- meticulously and with great care, too, as if she was trying to hit the most painful spots. (The joke, however, was on her. Iskra had been built for this, you see? For not breaking, no matter how crushing the pressure was. For standing, even if the world around her fell apart. Her knees might buckle, and she might trip as well, but even if she lost her balance? Always, always would the pirate stand back up! So, yes, there was a flash of hurt in her eyes-- something deep and visceral, like the growl of an injured wolf. Disbelief permeated it, too. 'How could you say this to me, Verity?' her eyes asked what her mouth could not. Just, why? Why, why, why? 'You know why,' a different voice said, and, indeed, she did. Didn't the old wisdom claim that Seeds had to be broken, over and over again, to reach their full potential? This, Iskra assumed, was just another iteration of that. The same old song, played on a different instrument. Never, never would she escape her fate! The souls of the dead held her ankles, you see, and made her spin in circles.)

'You also know what to do, don't you? Put your armor on, Iskra.' Ah, yes, yes! Her armor. The pirate had almost forgotten, but that old thing existed, and had served her well. Quietly, she slipped into it-- exchanged hurt for indifference, really, and watched the princess rage with all the emotional involvement of a bystander. (It didn't matter. Didn't, didn't, didn't! Iskra was nobody, so insulting her held the same weight as insulting one's imaginary friend. Besides, it wasn't like Verity had ever known her. No, she had merely painted a picture of the pirate in her mind, and then, after discovering it didn't reflect the reality? Like a petulant child, the princess tore the canvas apart! How... hmmm, royal of her.) When the other woman spoke of reconciliation while continuing to brandish her sword, though? Iskra couldn't help but laugh. Ah, to think she had been foolish enough to believe they'd ever had something meaningful! It was clear now that, to Verity, she'd always been just a toy, mildly diverting. A curiosity to add to her collection, in other words. All those empty promises? They collapsed on themselves, just like lies always did, and... well. For the first time since they'd met, Iskra felt like she saw who she truly was.Thank you, Shade, for giving me the gift of clarity.)

For a few seconds, the pirate just stared at Verity. What was there left to say, after all? Insults on top of other insults? More desperate attempts to hurt the other, as if this could somehow close her own wounds? Oh no, no, no! This soil was barren, and Iskra refused to waste her precious energy on trying to make flowers bloom there. Not anymore, at least. (Verity might have enjoyed her games, but she wasn't Verity, and nothing could force her to play with her. Nothing! ...flight wasn't an option, though. Retreating was all she had ever done with her, really, which meant the princess couldn't walk away from this thinking she could push her into a corner this comfortably. Nope, not happening.) So, instead of showering the prisoner with more pointless words, Iskra stepped forward and slapped her. (Not with all of her strength, mind you, or even half of it, but the princess's cheek still colored red.) "You will get formality when you behave yourself," the captain hissed, her eyes darkening. "For that was neither formal, nor polite. I am not yours anymore-- you don't get to speak to me like that. Now go. I don't wish to talk to you."
 
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