A Blade and Her Witch

The Seraph Rises (Doll)

Content Warnings:

 

 

The Seraph checked her reserves once more. Her manna was full, Liquid affection just over half, and plush overshield maxed out with all four of them strapped to her hips under the gleaming silver and white trench coat. With a heavy heart, The Seraph looked up at the Moon shards and whispered, “Today, Dark Lord Snurgle, the Eternal Conflict ends.” Just as she was about to climb into The Seraphwing, four, no five, yeah five Depression Spirits attacked, their crystalline bodies creaking with unfulfilled dreams.

 

“You should give up, The Seraph!” the Depression Spirits screeched, the voice of Dark Lord Snurgle coming from their bodies, “You don't even have a basic appreciation for Grammar, how can you ever hope to overcome the limits of Biology!”

 

The Seraph staggered back, knowing Dark Lord Snurgle had a point, but she was not defeated, no, She aimed her left hand at the closest of the Depression Spirits and chanted the words of power handed up to her from the Dirt that cradled her as a child, “Get Appreciated, get absolutely Cherished, Loser.”

 

The Liquid affection launched out from the palm of her hand and melted the first one down, revealing a scared little boy.

 

“It's okay,” The Seraph told him, “Together we can do anything. Even rewrite reality.”

 

As the boy hugged The Seraph, her Liquid affection was refilled, ready to take on the other Depression Spirits, and Then, her Arch Nemesis!

 

** ** **

 

I lean back from the desk, carefully looking over the story in progress, then hide it away in one of the hollow books I've set up on the shelf in Xafras room before turning back to the bed where Verbess and Xafra enticingly lay sleeping.

 

Aaaaaa, it's absurd how aroused I am. How's a Doll supposed to behave when there's naked cuties in the bed!

 

I can't help the surge of longing and desire that thrums through my Quills... or the feeling of embarrassment when I see both of them rouse to the sound.

 

Without even adjusting its Frame, Verbess' much longer Quills twitch and thrum in curiosity, then still a touch. Adjusting what was a soft thrum of the resting to a... not a question. Quill-Song may be its second language, technically, I think, but it is always more comfortable to use it for communicating with pretty much everyone. Even when it knows only the Pack can fully hope to understand what it is expressing.

 

And this is... it's almost more of a... assessment? It feels my frustrations but... also my hesitations, even if it doesn't know the whys of them. Is laying out an empty Song of reflection to help me think through it from another perspective if I want. And all that done in about two heartbeats, quick ones too.

 

I embrace the Song to work through this hangup, letting my words flow freely, "This one has a sister, from before, a twin, to be more precise. Didn't really get along with her. Mostly because of this one's jealousy, but this one still cares about her. And... It seems wrong to sleep with one's sister?" As the words leave me, I feel gross, rude, like I've crossed a line and ruined something. I turn and head for the balcony, to run away like I always do.

 

But... without the stilling of my Quills its song still echoes through me. One of... not apology. There is no shame here, and it presses that truth into the tittering. Alongside an offering of... clarification? And more acceptance and understanding than this one finds from even its own mind. The song seems now to be delicate threads tied like promise strings about our fingers. I could break them, of course, easily, and it would be waiting to retie them again next time this bothers me and I'd like to figure it out.

 

And... Enough of the foundations of its Reflective Melody is just... There. Song wrapped about my emotions and fears and desires before I took a single step away. Gifting me its Assessment on the Discord of words but also... concepts. Ideas. Purpose. The differences between the old Pack and the new that even it is enjoying but also still trying to figure out. Language drift and meanings over the years. How it doesn't want my Discord on this to be a source of shame. How glad it is that my song has been added to the Resonant Chorus.

 

"You're so adorable when you say stupid things, Adaline. When the Pack says Sister or sibling in regards to eachother, they refer to those they're soulbonded to, not related by blood. It's different. Thank you for sharing your concerns though." Xafra laughs as she stretches out over Verbess' chest.

 

Oh. That makes a lot of sense! I blush, dropping the robe I'm wearing to the floor, and stalk back over to the bed before leaping onto Xafra with teeth and claws as my Quills sing of desire and a wish to surrender to the Pack.

 

As Xafra grabs me and flips me, Verbess' Quills sing a different song, one that I recognize from when Mistress joined the Pack and drowned my mind in it. And... I want this, to be subsumed fully into them, and feel the Harmony they offer.

 

I thrum my desire, my acceptance for whatever they wish, sinking my tusks into Xafra's arm with glee.

 

With my response, the resonance changes and I'm being pinned to the bed, and working my way down to between my legs and pinning myself to the bed for a moment I'm afraid again, that I'm broken, but no, we're here and we're safe, spread across three Frames flush with desire for Us.

 

"Good Girl, there we go" we murmur from Xafra's lips as that Frame lowers onto ours, tongue gliding over tongue as it works its way down this Frame's throat.

 

There's a part of us, of me, of Adaline, underneath that knows intuitively that Mistress' Frame is weaker, fragile, easily shattered if I choose to resist, that she is choosing to be vulnerable in this moment, as vulnerable as I feel, and I understand in some small part her nature, she's more than just a person, more than just my mistress, more than just my pack lead, she's a fantasy somehow surviving the harsh coldness of reality, a flame that refuses to go out and instead grows brighter as she offers warmth to— 

 

O-oh! Another Frame of ours is delicately teasing at hips and thighs with impossibly sharp fangs. From the mouth of Verbess' Frame amidst a cackle of hunger, a trio of tongues glide free. Two wrap about Talon-pinned knees while our central one begins to graze across the sensitive Dollflesh of our pinned Frame.

 

The Harmony lessens, We fades back into me, and Xafra slowly pulls her tongue from my mouth. "Is this still good? Want to make sure you're comfortable with proceeding." She murmurs with such care.

 

"Yes, Mistress." I whisper back before I bite at her collarbone, feeling it give way under my teeth.

 

Gasp in delight, pleasure flooding us as tongues explore areas part of us didn't know existed, possessive growls feeding into moans as we rise higher and higher, to a height I've only ever reached with Elevar. Elevar... Elevar.

 

The Fantasy dies, the dream ends, and all that remains is me, the monster, the vile disgusting filth, being pleasured by Pack mates I don't deserve, who deserve so much better than me. I still, laying motionless, waiting for them to... Do something. Anything. Whatever it takes to balance my scales. To make it right for the woman I had the audacity to call my wife.

 

Xafra moves immediately, letting go of me and slipping to one side, close but no longer touching.

 

Verbess does the same, in a whip crack of motion suddenly folded up and back but... close. Quills thrumming in confusion at this as it tries to wrap a song around us all. But of course in a heartbeat it understands what I did. 

 

But then... a Counter Melody plays out. A soft thing where I expect ravenous hate for the one who used and hurt its Mistress and... Clarity. It would not have let Elevar return to Yselda's Spire if that were the case. If I understood what the Garrote about her was and still lay with her it wouldn't have let her near me again. How it... It doesn't believe that I'm...

 

"Mistress was..." Verbess whispers gently, almost... pained by how it needs the messy nature of words. "Clear, in this. Explained how the Old Teacher's Einwandfrei worked. How even Threshers could barely recognise the cousin to their Hooked Garrotes. You were... selected because Yselda knew you would not understand what she wrapped about Mistress, and then asked to care for her so you'd remain away from the tests involving the Garrote on your eventual Frame. Mistress recalls three times the Old Teacher commanded she... ensure you were too distracted to wander away. Those were not days you and her were intimate in this way. But her love for you was, and is, born of her own will. She... has reasons for remaining distant from you, but this is not one of them. Mistress spent many years tearing at herself in guilt over your affections for her, because she could not tell you everything. Could not warn you. Feels you didn't fall in love with her but... what Yselda broke her into becoming. You are a victim in this, same as she and neither of you bear blame for what was done to you, or to the other."

 

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should have... We... never talked about it. Even when she... When she hurt me, she never said anything about it." I find the words slowly with great difficulty, as these two patiently accept me for who and what I am.

 

Its tune goes even softer as its Frame cracks and shifts to be smaller, gentler, less imposing. Quill-Song a thing of... not forgiveness. It accepts my words only in the same way its Frame seems to breathe. It does not need air, or my apologies but finds Good Function in how the act helps it settle others where stillness or rejection would unnerve.

 

Then a little click in the tune and... 

 

Not your fault, Its Quills radiate so easily and naturally this song of its perceptions on... On all of this, on me, on how it understands that Elevar has spent over a Decade trying to heal, where I've only just been allowed to start. How Elevar is nothing but relieved to see me recovering and finding comfort and safety and confidence that took her years to begin to feel. And... how it's view on me has shifted since becoming a Pack Sister, but hasn't changed how it regards the past. I was more than innocent, I was the reason Elevar survived. She... She didn't know if she would survive the Garrote's removal, but wanted so desperately to get the Blasenplage finished, not for herself... But for me.

 

"Why do you think she called you her Blue Butterfly?" It murmurs gently in word and Song.

 

"Oh. This one..." The revelations surprises me and shock me out of my melancholy as I find a blush creeping up my face. "This one always believed that you were calling her Special Doll out of spite, an insult because you were her only Doll. Still are, in regards to bound Frames... This one is such a fool, but so very lucky to have been accepted by you. By all of you." I reach out with both arms and Quill song to Xafra, Verbess, Schatzi, Warden, and Krahe, all of our Pack, ever present in my mind, and embrace them with my everything.

 

"Our fool." Xafra laughs softly, "I think after you give yourself some time, you should talk about this with Elevar, clear the air. Because, my little seraph, it's obvious that you're both still in love."

 

I find myself nodding along until my mind catches up and, "WHAT, NO, YOU CAN'T JUST, AAAAAAAAAA" I shriek while unable to stop from joining in the laughter.

 

“Her name is The Seraph, the The is important, it's like a mantle, you know?" I giggle.

 

"Fair enough... Perhaps we can spend time together in a different way?" Our Pack lead suggests.

 

Verbess moves to crawl and curl up behind me. Like many times before kind of... smushing me between itself and Xafra's Quill-Song while the Pack considers things.

 

“Hmmm... The Pack before was kinda kept back from anything our Mistresses or Masters didn't see as Good Function.” Xafra manifests a Physis imaging of Krahe and she offers. “So... we kinda came up with lots of weird like... Quill-Song games when not hunting. Or... well, after a good hunt they'd let us race about and such. Shed the excess Fury. But this one isn't sure Adaline's Frame could keep up, Pack Lead. And there isn't much Fury to burn off inside this Frame either way.”

 

Xafra cackles and makes a weird gesture with her nails which starts Schatzi giggling over the Pack bond. "Krahe, I was more thinking it would be a good group exercise to start crafting your Frame. Adaline can show you and Schatzi how to use Physis weaves to carve while Verbess does it manually, and Warden coordinates with your desired appearance."

 

"Oh oh oh. Adaline, can this one paint your nails first? I haven't had a good opportunity to paint Mistress' recently and I really want to paint someone's and yours would look cute with purple!" Schatzi's voice comes from behind me happily.

 

“OH! Bitch Tits. Yeah. Okay. Okayokayokay…” Krahe sputters in delight.

 

"Yes, Schatzi, I'd love if you'd paint my nails, and Speaking of tits, we should probably get dressed... I'm sorry for ruining this. It was really good and I want to try it again soon if you're both willing and um with your preferred parts included." I say, feeling a bit embarrassed but not even slightly ashamed anymore.

 

Verbess thrums nothing but acceptance, agreements, and hunger for that. But with such easy patience knitting through its Frame and mind.

 

**   **   **

 

An hour, and an honestly lovely coat of purple on my nails, later, we're in the Storage Spire hauling out anything that looks like it could be useful or at least fun for Krahe's Frame.

 

“The core needs to be solid” Krahe is intoning to anyone and no one. “But... This one needs it to be a lighter wood. Its Frame wasn't the fastest but that's just because the first Pack Sister's got the better parts and... Huh. Do we have a good substitute for the wood they used in us?”

 

“Assessing... Pri— Correction, Miss Lynette can interface with the Estate to modify available wood to desired specifications after sculpting.” Warden offers.

 

“I... Oh okay. That's spooky.” Krahe murmurs. “Not you Warden, you're sweet. Thanks for letting me know. I'll eh... get Pack Lead Xafra to ask her about that.”

 

“Affirmative. Warden agrees that it is... spooky”

 

“They never like... So this one never really remembers considering its Frame beyond Good Function.” Krahe considers. “Like... the flesh body was shifting to match the girl this one was but, it was slow and stupid about it and the lady giving it the offer for the reforging made it seem that I'd be this pretty Frame just... made for fighting. Durable. Not really made to break after one fight like the previous designs. So... it guesses what this one is asking is if It should try to make it more like the combat side or like what I wanted my flesh to be. Can It choose both? Kinda like my Little Birds do? Or is it the mud bath anytime it needs to shift?”

 

"With Frames that are already crafted, the mud bath is efficient because it shifts the frame to your ideal. If you want to be able to—" Xafra stops in confusion, looking around uncertain before Warden does something and Xafra starts again, "Yes Warden, we can make krahe's Frame able to swap modes like Schatzi and Verbess. Can even add more alterations piecemeal as desired."

 

“That... Wow. Okay. It... Yeah. Just like in the Dream. Or as close as we can get for the hunting shape. This one would love some help thinking about the um... the softer half. Like when Schatzi's fronting in this Frame. This one remembers its old body okay enough but... If It can change more than It could before that would be really appreciated. Would love Schatzi and Adalines' thoughts on the shapes and such.” Krahe intones almost shyly. “This one... kinda got wrapped up in the Pack before getting to be a girl for more than like... a year. And even then it was kinda half and half with most people. Being a Gutter Bird and still mid-shifting threw a ton of people off. No idea where it would have ended.”

 

"Yes! I'd be happy to help with that." I wiggle with excitement doing my best to mask the anxiety all of us feel at the garrote around my Mistress.

 

“Thanks, it... That means a lot. Actually.” Krahe radiates warm gratitude toward myself and Schatzi.

 

As a Pack, a family, we work for the rest of the day, crafting each piece to exacting precision, planning and mapping out the topology and interconnections of the Frame, and assembling it, checking the fit, then disassembling it once more to be completed after the Estate does its thing with the wooden components. Even as the sky empties, we continue to work until I finally determine it's time, and with the Packs support, head to Elevar so we can finally resolve this matter.

 

I'm making my way to Elevar's Spire, the pack returning to Xafra's to wait for me, when a crack of thunder rips through the air much too early in the season. Xafra thrums through the bond that Lynette said something before being cut off, and we all split up, Elevar apparently not available over the Tether, and her Spire is empty. We race from Spire to Spire, eventually meeting up where we find her, standing outside of Yselda's Spire and it's sealed shut, coated in vines.

 

She's... Wrong. She looks wrong and the Pack can all see it, her left hand blazing with a steady green glow, icy mist rising from her left shoulder, and distress plain in her posture.

 

"A Bloody week, my Love. Can we not go a bloody week without something going mad!" I demand of her.

 

She doesn't look back at me, at any of us as she intones far far too gently for the rasp in her throat. "This feels the least mad thing I've done in a very long time, honestly... It's a mess I should have attended to years ago." A pause, "You can all return to your or rest or... whatever it was you were considering. Sorry for causing a stir."

 

It’s then that I notice the ring Xafra gave her is the source of the green glow, and clutched in that same hand is Yselda's needle. Dripping soft little dribbles of green tinted Ousia.

 

"And Lynette?" Xafra asks quietly.

 

"Years ago I was still stuck in there, I'll remind you." I mention, following my Mistress' lead.

 

"You'd have... probably been as upset as Lynette is. But... would have recovered. Maybe even been able to live better." Elevar replies softly to us, then her voice turns... cold. Harsher than I've ever heard, as she seems to talk to herself more than either of us. "But unlike her, you get to choose, Lynette. Move, and this can be done cleanly. Or don't... and this Estate loses another perfectly good Spire."

 

"Mistress, please. What is occurring? Let us bear witness if nothing else." Xafra drops to one knee, and I follow suit.

 

She makes a sound, halfway between a sigh and a growl, then looks back. And... I see amidst the twisting scowl that she's been crying. Probably worse. And her lack of sleep isn't doing her any favors either. "Cracked and Riven Moon don't kneel to me right now. Either of you. And... Unless you have Kinetic Laced Wards you really should be back in a Spire. If Lynette won't let me burn Yselda's library inside to ash then I'm going to use something that will drop this entire Moonshited thing to get to them."

 

"The Pack serves you. And we worry. What did you find? or... Did you not find?" I ask, unmoving.

 

"What I was too stupid to see. Of course." She glares, then looks away as the ring's glow dims a bit. "The gemstones within this needle was her... Well... Most robust Archive. Separate from her own Little Trove or the Threads below. Storing her life's collection in a safe place in case of infection or purging. I... None of that mattered to me. Save the books on Fleshcrafting for myself, all I wanted were my journals. Fifty Tomes I only ever stored in Physis that she copied into this needle's gemstones five days or so after Garroting me. Things I..."

 

She grinds her teeth to try and fight back glimmering messy tears that fall anew. "My Dreams. My life's research on what Fleshcrafting could be if we had the Ousia for it. Designs and observations based on everything from Dolls to Wildlife to... to Sun-Scorched and Cracked Denizen dissection, even. Stolen straight from a Thresher's Little Archive before Yselda Dollified her. All far far too expensive and just a dying woman's impossible hopes but... But with Xafra here they could... They could have... Have been more. For me, and these Dolls, and others."

 

Elevar gulps down a breath. "I searched for hours with Lynette thinking they were just... Hidden within. Buried or mislabeled. Yselda was messy and disorganized and I always loved that about her. But I eventually had to... To read her journals. To find out what... That... That she... She burned them. Erased every piece. Kept none. And not even because she thought them too painful to keep. But because she... I got to read how she... What she thought of me. At the end."

 

The ring goes from nearly extinguished to blazing as she begins to quote words. "Stupid petty Half-Knit. Should have turned the gerl into a Doll the day she stumbled here. Was better as a toy than a Failed Floret. Embarrassed me with every step she took outside these walls. Only three Tomes worth keeping, and easily replaceable. Burning the rest. Such a disappointment. Honestly, her getting the Soul Rot is a boon to my plans. Her intimate knowledge of the Groves will be all I'll need, save that gerl's well-trained tongue."

 

"She's dead, undone by the same half-knit she thought so little of. So much for a matron if two of her victims could find a way to slip her noose in vastly different ways. So burn her journals, but her tomes? You would deprive us of the potential to weaponize them, harness them against the cracked system that permitted her to exist. That would be... justified. let me climb in first though, she weaponized me against you as well, and if you wish a clean break, it would only be right." I drip venom with each word as my Quills twitch and shudder, rising to walk to the base of the Spire. Then whisper just before my first clawed strike rakes against its outer shell. "Well. let's get started then." 

 

But just before my third strike, a hand catches my wrist after talons rake over this impossibly hard Spire, and I look back to find Elevar shaking her head, fighting back more tears as she ever so gently cradles the limb. "The only thing worth pulling and keeping from this wretched Spire is already free of it. Your Frame. And that's only because of the gerl who wears it better than Yselda ever dreamed possible. Everything is... I don't care how priceless or valuable or... or important it may seem. Because you're right. Her Makellose Garrote was proven flawed, and her Fleshcrafting vile and tainted. What you and Xafra have woven prove that. A clean break is hollowing this Spire out with Plage or... or Rot or Cracked and Miscast worse if needed. I don't... I don't care how much you or Lynette believe otherwise or will hate me for doing this. How much she threatens or... or you demand this. I won't let this place or what remains of her hurt anyone again. Not you, not Lynette, and... and not a single Doll on these grounds."

 

I curl around her, gently embracing this sleep-starved and furious Witch. "You're letting it hurt you. You matter. So much more than she ever did. look I... I don't care about anything in this Spire. None of it is important to me, but I think it's important to you. Can you please... Give it a few days? Think on it, fully? If you still feel the same, I'll light the fire myself, use my Einwandfrei to pull the ink from the pages before we burn the lot so not even scraps remain. Just not yet, not when you're this hurt. I don't want you to have even more regrets, not when we're finally making progress on a future where we can all be happy. Please." By the end I'm weeping, my Quills screaming with all the heartache and loss, the distance I feel between us even though she's right here in my arms, my first love that I never could be worthy of.

 

She clings to me, relaxing into my arms and reaching up to return my hold with her free hand. Shivering and needing to work so hard to recover her voice amidst her own echoing sobs. Ring now a blazing torch that radiates such a cold aura that even my Frame seems to feel. 

 

"I don't want you to ever have to return to this place. Even to burn it. I... I know things are so much better now but..." She whispers. "But I'm so sorry I left you. That I didn't have my gerls take me below to... to become this Estate's Blossom and free you the night I killed her. Use its Chambers to try and... And... Fix your Frame. Or... Or... And..."

 

"Don't worry about what could have been. we have each other now, we have Xafra, I have a Pack, the kind of family I could have only dreamed of." I respond gently but fearcely. "We... We paid a heavy price, but we EARNED this happiness. All of us. And we're not going to lose it. Especially not to a fight between you and your sister. And YES, LYNETTE IS YOUR SISTER. I'm pretty darn certain that's how it works."

 

"Please don't call us Sisters." She... No, this is both of them now, and that ring's aura seems to lessen. "Not when we're just starting to try to get along. You'll spoil it worse than..."

 

"...this stupid Half-Knit's impulsive use of this spell." Lynette breaks off and continues through their lips. Then pauses, seeming surprised, then is growling. "OH, AM I ALLOWED TO TALK NOW‽"

 

Another pause, then Lynette's replying to Elevar's unspoken reply. "Fine. Half your apology accepted. Stupid cracked and riven Half-Knit. Share the Mondfäule with me and walk away from this and I'll start forgiving you. Now, untie this bond so Xafra can make sure we don't waste all our Ousia trying to smother the working."

 

"Look, if I can have... Try to have... Okay, absolutely ruin a threesome with my Pack Sisters, you can both do more to consider each other in a similar way. Xafra said the pack uses the term to mean those that are soulbonded together, not just related by blood, and you share a body so. Be nice, please. Or I'll cry more!" I whimper, feeling relief and so out of my depths in dealing with this.

 

"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that. You deserve to fully enjoy your Pack's rapt attentions without interruptions." Lynette pulls back to meet my gaze, but keeps right arm securely locked about me. "Thank the Empty Skies, you have more sense than most others here. Well done. Thank you. Cracked and Riven Moonshite. Now, would you mind terribly catching us?"

 

An odd purr comes from the darker shadows of the Spire, I glance over to see that our Verbess has been... somehow waiting without alerting any of us to its presence. Quill song switching from a pitch of low prowling <Accessing...> to one of revealed considerations.

 

"Was wondering why you weren't attending your Mistress, Verbess." Lynette sighs as she also sees it. 

 

"This one was close." It murmurs, carefully moving from the shadows, eyes locked on their still glowing left hand. "Ready to act to keep its Mistress safe."

 

I can tell from its melody that our approach was just... Harmonic. It didn't feel the need to tell me anything because It Assessed that I or Xafra would just... be better at talking this down. While it seems to have... been puzzling out ways with Xafra to deal with any tangled spells Elevar tried to weave.

 

Well... All except whatever is in her left hand. It... Its getting Warden's help with that.

 

"It was... Interrupted by the necessity to have a blunt conversation with Elevar once I was ready, actually the reason this one was looking for her when we found you. Wait… Catching you?" I ask in confusion.

 

Lynette pauses, then Elevar bubbles up. Tired and swaying as she forces out murmured words. "Been up and about too long, and this spell shredded my working of endurance. Sorry, that... That whatever this conversation is, interrupted that. You... I'll keep awake. My body is just... The cold is the only thing keeping me on my feet right now. I think. I'm not sure. Everything feels numb." She glances back at Xafra, and Lynette rises to say. "I... really think I like your time's other spells better than this one. Paying the Ousia cost at the end of a working is a stupid way to make a weaving. It's a wonderful way to kill oneself and leave a Cursestorm brewing. Which we're in no danger of but... I wish they'd been more clear about that tax."

 

"The cost at the end was designed to prevent Cursestorms, they were for war, dear. It was expected that the user would die as the weaving collapses, leaving no Ousia to fuel such horrors." Xafra adds in a detached manner, still focused on her own tasks.

 

I gesture with my free hand and create an  invocation on the spot, "Dust, Ash, and Breath, Death enforcing life, scaffold the form to cradle the flesh." layering Physis along their body, creating an almost external skeletal layer to keep them upright.

 

"That will allow you to walk under your own power back to your Spire if desired. This one can... Work with Mistress Xafra to craft an external storage for Ousia to keep that from happening... Just. Please. Let us speak after you both rest." I offer pleadingly.

 

"I honestly... Lynette's right. I don't want to walk under my own power." She chuckles, leaning back into me and pulling up her hand to focus on the hand gripping the needle and wearing the glowing ring. A pause, and... Gentler pop than before, and the ring snaps back to what it was. Her shoulder still seems to steam a bit though.

 

"Stupid messy magic." She huffs as I feel her body buckle and sway a bit. "Why do I always make stupid and messy magic? You'd think a Half-Knit would... Would take more care with her Einwandfrei. Make something efficient and clean and possibly not wretched and horrid." She babbles, taking up my hand and beginning to move us over to Xafra while Verbess stalks behind. "Mayhaps something soft and kind. Spend our already limited life energy well. But no. That makes three weavings made to break Yselda and her things. One to break everyone else, and one to... to link my Ousia to another. All messy. Most stupid." Then she pauses, seems to regard the hand still clutching the needle as it's half raised to take Xafra's. "Oh. Well that's... An odd side effect." Then she sighs and instead hooks Xafra's arm and pulls us both toward our Spires.

 

"You have time. And a lot of life to make something kind. For example, I bet you'd get some delighted shrieks if you could craft a weave to have plush toys say things when held." Xafra jokes, and I start stammering about how important it is that Dark Lord Snurgle sounds properly imperious.

 

 

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