EVERY LIVING THING PUSHED INTO THE RING,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Welcome to the arenas.
WHEN? Two weeks of arena time.
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.

GUESS YOU THOUGHT YOU COULDN'T JUST WATCH;

no one's getting out

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

THE ENTRANCE

COST and the Regency receive formal invites a week before the arenas open, requesting their presence at the opening ceremony. And not in just any capacity, but as guests of honor. Queen Thsh agreed to host these arenas, after all, as a show of power and confidence in that power; not only to spiderkind, but to those who would support or overthrow her.

The inner rings of Ythaway buzz in anticipation. Aranean architects and their workers put the final touches on the massive structure strung over the pits of Ymir, dedicated in equal parts to combat and gaming and court life. Carved from stone and adorned with wicked sculptures, it looks impossibly delicate, balanced on bridges only just wide enough for a single female Aranean. They are packed with spiders and their decorative servants on opening day, made more hazardous by the crowd and perpetual darkness.

The arena is lavishly decorated on all fronts; while the bulk of the audience only offers standing room, there is peculiarly decorated Aranean furniture along the perimeter of each area, set up high so even those significantly smaller than the average Aranean female can get a view. It's possible to find Aranean children tussling here and at the forefront of the crowds, with even the smallest already sharpening their backstabbing skills.

» THE CEREMONY

The opening ceremony is a grandiose affair, marking the beginning of a two-week event. The arenas themselves are hung with banners and trimmed by gold filigree that represents the Royal Family and each of the remaining Great Houses. Each house puts on their own show, displaying the best of their respective skills and resources.

Jankeh's is technological genius, featuring mechanical wonders and holographic projections that earn noises of admiration from the crowd. Shaiy's is pure luxury, displaying all the latest fashion trends and elegant in movement. Khah's is power, with elaborate dances that mimic military formations and tell tales of the Thshan Empire's victories. It takes the better part of two hours to display everything they have in full, each display more extravagant than the last.

And then, as fireworks go off, it's your turn. COST and the Regency aren't expected to do much, fortunately; you aren't the entertainers here, at least not yet. But you're brought on stage and introduced, expected to bow and carry out your pleasantries. It's short and snappy and the Regency exchanges derisive looks with any recruit who meets their eyes.

Once you've cleared the stage, a parade of uthcki and hhcho are marched out in neat rows perhaps a little too similar to the ones you just departed in. All of them wear the colors of House Chchai and they are, in essence, the last vestiges of the house. They're displayed proudly by House Shaiy, with Lady Thchnk's daughters standing at either edge as an honor guard. And then, at the sound of a rising cry from their mother, they turn as one on the genetically engineered creatures.

It's brutally quick and silent, save for the crack of bone, as each female Aranean cuts down the servants and pets of the now-dead house. Their teeth gnash and blood splatters against their carefully, lovingly crafted dresses. Part ceremonial and all power, they kill every last uthcki and hhcho until the stage is littered with remains and permanently stained red with blood.

As Lady Thchnk's eldest daughter and heir apparent delicately wipes her mouth of blood, none other than High Queen Thsh steps forward, to applaud the display. And, with her word, the arenas are officially open.

These are your battlegrounds.

» DIVIDE AND CONQUER

As ever, "conquest" is the name of the game in High Queen Thsh's empire. While you've made impressions and connections with noble spiders, this is your chance to show off where your loyalties lie. If you claim victory, you can dedicate it to your chosen monarch. While COST would like you to declare for the Queen, you can show your favor for Princess Chch or any other spider allies. COST will not reprimand you and Young, at least, spares Queen Thsh no love.

But note that, while you may kill competing Araneans and Regency agents here with immunity, the same holds true for them to you. To step into an arena is to forfeit any semblance of safety or diplomatic immunity. While there are rules—you still need to follow proper Aranean duel etiquette and can't wantonly attack anyone when you aren't participating in these arenas—they are few and far between.

COST and the Regency aren't the only foreign diplomats in attendance, either. There is a surge of new arrivals through the Jhashchan terminals, some humanoid and some not; if you can imagine it, you're likely to see an alien of that sort in the audience or competing in the arenas themselves. Of course...whether they're here willingly or not is another matter.

That said, for recruits who make a name for themselves: Don't be surprised if an Aranean asks you for a genetic donation to their labs.


THE ARENA

Upon entering the arena, the social niceties that encouraged the spiders to separate COST and the Regency dissolve. You are left to the darkness and your own devices, so don't get stabbed in the back, whether by an Aranean or the Regency operatives. While the three individuals in charge of the Regency—Khnum, Ptah, and Tatenen—icily engage Grothia and Young, the agents under their employ at left to your mercy and vice versa.

None of them are without their shabti; in many cases, when a Regency operative considers a challenge beneath them, they order their shabti to take it instead. It's yet another display of power to the Araneans, daring them to take offense. The shabti never protest; they execute their assigned duties with a minimum of words, uncannily blank faced and almost robotic in their motions. The Regency's unspoken point is clear; they expect the Araneans beneath them to bow just as their shabti do.

Mhic Nathair, earstwhile matron in Gallipoli, keeps her distance, though her shabti secretary occasionally flits through the crowd to get her mistress drinks. The shabti Mhic Nathair owns is a quiet, demure woman, who shies away from conversation as though she expects it to preclude physical violence. No one knows what Mhic Nathair is doing to her secretary, but it hasn't resulted in any bruises anyone can see. But, then again, she's always wearing long sleeved shirts and high collars.

Still, no agent is foolish enough to disgrace one of the Araneans at the top of the food chain. There's real deference in their treatment of the High Queen and Princess Chch; the observant might even catch a few meaningful glances between the princess and some of the higher ranking Regency agents as the Royal Family receives their guests.

It's a cool affair, before they wave everyone into the hands of the Great Matrons, ever playing politics. And the Great Matrons brush the duty off on their daughters, who are as disdainful as they are vain. After all, you haven't proven yourselves yet and the Matrons have their own duties; it's only under their watchful eyes that the arena logistics unfold. And there will be hell to pay if they don't go as planned.

Each of the Great Houses claims domain over one of the arenas. Rumors hint House Chchai would have dominated the court and dabbled in the games, but with the family exterminated, it's only hearsay. As it stands, House Khah exerts most of their influence over the game and the stadium, while Shaiy shows the most favor to the court, but does not hesitate to plunge into the other arenas. House Jankeh favors the stadium and then the court. This is done most transparently in the form of sponsorships, which they'll offer to victors with particularly impressive winning streaks, especially if they dedicate victories to the family.

And remember, even here the hierarchy is in play. But it doesn't always obey the simple layout outside the arena doors. Someone sharp of eye might notice that some challenges in different arenas are specifically gamed so one tier of the hierarchy dominates the others. So keep an ear to the ground and follow the spider gossip if you want to play to your strengths; sometimes the arenas are, without a doubt, rigged.

» THE LOGISTICS

You have the option of choosing the outcome of your arena exploits and tailoring them to your liking. But for those who are interested in a bit more risk...well, there's a bit more reward involved as well. If you'd like to RNG your battle, sign up here. Be warned: Losing may result in serious injury or death.

Of course, if your character dies, they'll be teleported back to BASE and will have to convalesce there for three weeks, although given the way BASE time lines up with everything else, well. There's a good chance they might get teleported back into the mission not long after they died. And they may also experience a strange vision, a magical glimpse into the future...or maybe that's just the excellent drugs Chiron has in Medical.

That said, the prize for winning is much more impressive. Win well enough and by a large enough margin and the loser (or the house of the loser) must give you whatever you claim as boon, within reason. If they own it, you can take it. Up to and including their very lives.

In all arenas, you can name enemy spiders, Regency operatives, and other NPCs; feel free to make up their personalities and handle them as you see fit, down to plotting their demise. If you need to contact an Aranean NPC for something that cannot be handwaved, please go here; to talk to Mhic Nathair, her shabti, or any other Regency NPCs, please go here!

» THE STADIUM

The most openly dangerous of the arenas, combat is for recruits who see strife as a way of life. While the setting varies—sometimes there are even simulated fields in the barren, boiling style of Jhashch's daytime landscape, modified so all lifeforms can survive it—often they're darker than the rest of the arena, so your assigned goggles may come in handy.

Fights take any manner of shape and form, from straightforward combat to competitions that test competitors' mettle in reflexes or speed. Opponents vary; some of them are ordinary humans whose luck has taken a bad turn, while others are aliens on par with your own cognition. Others still are monstrous wildlife, big or small but always deadly. Just remember: it's expected victory end in blood. If it doesn't, rumors inevitably fly.

There is no rhyme or reason to what kind of fight you find yourself in, whether pairing up with a friend or against said friend. You might even find yourself temporarily allied with an Aranean, the Regency, or another being. And recruits are authorized to carry any weapons they like into the arena; perform well enough and House Jankeh might sponsor you with their own arms.

Also, Princess Shai and Princess Aythy compete in this arena. Deadly and graceful, they're a sight to see on the battlefield. Arena encounters with the Twin Generals are only available via RNG and mean your character has an extremely high chance of dying, so tread with caution.

» THE COURT

As ever in the Aranean court, etiquette is key. Entertain, dance, and dine; in this arena, it's as much an artform as stressed by your training. Only here, if you make an error, a droid doesn't cutely—infuriatingly—glitter ball and inform you that you've been consumed. No, here it becomes reality. And these interactions are no longer reserved for Araneans; again, there are other species on the playing field, representing other factions of the Thshan Empire and all here to exercise that specific brand of Aranean diplomacy.

And, of course, there's the Regency. It becomes clear that the Regency is working to fill the power void created by the fall of House Chchai; there are candidates of all sorts clamoring for recognition in these arenas, which serve both foreign and domestic diplomats.

COST recruits receive a list of marks, with pro-Regency targets highlighted. While all members of COST are told to keep company with at least one other recruit, it holds especially true in this arena. The court may not be fast-paced outside of bursts of blood-bright violence, but tensions constantly run high. And, for the unlucky—or the lucky, depending on your point of view—you may encounter Princess Chch herself. While her mother derides participation—well loved as these arenas may be, they're a celebration of High Queen Thsh and don't merit her participation—the princess has her own agenda, so watch her closely.

» THE GAME

The safest of the arenas, by virtue of why it exists in the first place, there's no limit to what kind of games the spiders offer. As long as it has a bit of violent spice and a clear winner or loser, it's all good. Moreover, the night vision goggles you received at the beginning of the mission can interface with the VR equipment, provided you do some tweaking.

This is also the arena that allows interplanetary participation. As such, there are several players who appear as nothing more than usernames on a screen. The spiders in charge of this arena claim participation is locked only to diplomats and individuals with important political sway, as a way of paying homage to and fostering relations with distant stars, so rest assured you're gaming with someone very important.

...Probably, anyway. There are signs something is off about some of these distant competitors, whether through the muttering of spiders or their own silence. They never speak, sticking exclusively to text for communication, and at one point an entire group is banned from the servers. Which doesn't seem to be enough to keep them out; several return, taunting anyone who will listen. Trolls, perhaps; it's certainly how the higher ranking spiders like to spin it.

Prince Shch and a few members of his entourage observe, although as male Araneans it's derided that they participate. It's funny enough to female Araneans that male humans like video games; the idea of a male Aranean enjoying the pastime is preposterous. But he remains a silently ominous figure in the stands, bearing witness to your endeavors and showing understated favor to victors who somehow win his attentions.


THE FALLOUT

All of the arenas run the risk of being bloody. Physical confrontations are almost inevitable and brushes with them are inescapable. While it's possible to sweet talk your way out of them in the court or game arenas, there are a few things to keep in mind for those of you who try and don't succeed...or for those of you who want to be a big damn hero and come to another recruit's rescue with guns blazing. Your pick.

» THE ARANEANS

Araneans are as powerful as their size suggests. Their legs are only deceptively fragile; while their joints can be weak points, their exoskeletons are like armor. They're much faster than any human, with almost preternatural reflexes; they may not be able to deflect or dodge bullets, but in many cases they simply don't need to. Again: their exoskeletons are like armor. They can absorb pure magical attacks, though using bespelled items or elements can work. The underside of their abdomen is a vulnerable spot, but it also puts any targets at the mercy of their eight legs. It's highly unadvised for a baseline human to take an Aranean on solo.

Older female Araneans often go unarmored in the arenas, unless stipulated otherwise; if they're armed, they often carry spears. Male spiders and young female Araneans just stepping into their first arena often don armor. Originally designed as protection and an aid in mining duties, it's evolved with their culture. Designed in a plated style with futuristic trappings, it protects the abdomen and joints but affords the spider full mobility, as expected of a species that prizes agility and jumping. Male Araneans often use longer spears to make up for their smaller size, to give them the reach of a female Aranean, but you'll never see them carrying weaponry that elevates them above a female spider. Historically, that's a sight only seen in rebellions mercilessly crushed by Queen Thsh and her mother.

Their detection ability is a boon against artificial and magical entities—magical ones, especially, who they can sense in the very air. And, as always, mind their fangs. You only have three autotoxin injectors, but keep them handy.

» THE REGENCY

For recruits who endured Gallipoli, facing the agents here isn't too different. Only agents of high ranking have access to power nullification equipment, but they're all in beyond peak physical condition. It'll take at least two baseline humans to tackle one Regency operative, who have additional cybernetic modifications. Some of this is offensive, but it affords them a great deal of additional strength in all cases, depending on what's augmented.

Their actual weaponry varies between arenas, but they err in favor of what the spiders want to see and stick largely with melee weaponry; it earns more respect from the Araneans. They also aren't shy about sending shabti into combat in their place, should they see it necessary. Or if they're aiming for insult and injury.

The shabti are augmented just like their creators; while none of them have the cybernetic implants their lords and ladies favor, there's something preternaturally quick and resilient to each of them. If your timing is equally preternatural, you might see one kill an Aranean...or you might see an Aranean kill a shabti and devour their remains. While spiders are well aware of the Regency's intent behind the shabti, they're also quick to adapt to this hiccup in the hierarchy and treat them as little more than food and decor, just like their own servants. But that isn't to say they're to be underestimated on the battlefield.

» THE LAST FRONTIER

There are far more than spiders and humans in attendance. What they look like, who they represent, and what they're capable of is as variable as you'd expect in a meeting of interplanetary forces. You never know what you might find.


THE KIOSKS

When you aren't participating in the arenas, you have access to your quarters and the Siopai in the Second Ring. Really, you have access to (almost) all levels of Aranean society, should you wish to explore it. However, the sensation of being watched within the dark halls of Ythaway never disappears; if anything, with the arenas, it intensifies.

And the kiosks are no exception. While they're more affordable than the Siopai, they still aren't cheap. They predominantly sell kitschy trinkets and food; none of the latter is labeled outside of a vague description of what it is, so buyer beware. You don't know what's mixed in there, but it's definitely meat. Mystery meat that the Araneans devour ravenously, as if to remind you they once devoured their creators.

The kiosks—and more than a few other locations in the mines—are also overrun by the paparazzi, Aranean and otherwise. They demand interviews, detailing your latest win in the arenas. What's your date of birth? Is it possible to translate it into the Jhashchan calendar? Perhaps your star sign is compatible with a competing bachelorette.

It's going to be a long two weeks.

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

PRINCESS CHCH - BY INVITATION ONLY.

[agogenpc]

For those that accept the Princess invitation to her suit of seats at the arena. All that is required is as the letter dictates, to present yourself to a guard with the letter in hand, and you are brought to the Princess's private booth.

Though as you are introduced, it less simply a sitting room as an area of extravagance as anywhere else in the palace. But contrary to the darkness of many areas, everything here is hung with bright washes of material, the viewing window has no glass and light pours in. Strings of jewels and gold hang in looping ceiling decorations. Low tables with servants moving about them stand at the ready to present whatever might be needed. At the Princess' feet, a human servant sits, missing one arm, she lays there, comfortably so. A fond pet, it seems. She matches the Princess' beautiful dress, who wears a layered ensemble of golds and whites and faint blues to match the white and iridescent blue-purple colouring of the royal family.

But unlike many of the dour Aranean's with their harshly judgemental looks - when the Princess sees her company has come, her smile lights up with a beatific smile. Unlike her mother, her form is outwardly far more human. Her eyes are normal, her skin still unnatural, but she only has a usual amount of arms for a human display. One of which, she gestures her new guest closer with.

"Oh, do join me. I have waited so fondly to see you, and now you are before me. Please, come, and tell me how that you do."

Nothing but utterly pleasant to each and everyone of her guests.

time to get vored again

[trample]

The arena - what a mess. Most would hate to be back here, but Eren hardly had any pride left in him anyway, so the sight of it didn't bother him. What did was seeing that little had changed in the time he'd been gone. It wasn't that he figured dying would change anything, it was just that he'd hoped something might have. Oh well - it couldn't be helped.

After making his way through the dark hallways leading up to it, he found the entrance to the room he had been so glamorously invited to, and received entry like one would expect. The light is blinding compared to the world outside, but Eren does not balk at the sight of it. However well-decorated it was, to him it was merely gaudy. Nothing more, nothing less.

And there was the woman of the hour. Only moving once she speaks, he takes a knee and does a gesture of deep respect, before bringing his arm back in and resting it on his knee.

"Your letter was quite a surprise. I didn't think anyone would find such failure to be a tragedy."

did u just bloodborne at me

[agogenpc]

"You wound me!"

Her voice lilting, compared to her mother's deeper timbre. The Crown Princess, in fact, seems quite at odds to her mother in many ways. For one, after his respect is given she is open with a seeming compassion to him. Another is that where her mother steps heavily to her power, Chch is light, delicately movements that send the laced material she wears into a flutter.

Her hand sweeps for him to rise, beckoning him, then lifting to press over her heart. Her fingernails painted white. "Do not you keep yourself there. You must join me, I have waited so long to speak with you."

I'm always bloodborne all the time

[trample]

Not one movement was wasted on his part. Bringing his arm back in and rising from his kneeling position, he takes one, two steps forward, and reaches a point from where most would stop - and takes one last step beyond that. Whether it was out of bravery or stupidity, he was just across that threshold, and for good reason - he was studying her face and focusing on her eyes. It's like the fact that everything below the belt was an arachnid was the last thing on his mind.

"My lady, I do not even know where to begin. If I have piqued your curiosity, I must know how."

[lonelywar]

Ashitaka's return to the stadium to answer to the princess' summons was his first since his defeat, though that was not particularly surprising; he hadn't been much of anywhere, receiving her letter about mid-way through his recovery from his near-fatal wounds. This is only his second day since physicians had been confident enough to call him recovered, and perhaps it was not his smartest decision to go so early. But to delay, to him, might be perceived as a sleight, and his utter uselessness thus far during this mission hangs heavy upon his soul. Hopeless in the arena of the courts, he had sought to carve out at least some ground for COST here with the only thing he felt strongly enough that he could depend upon it: his skill in combat, or at least his personal tenacity not to die.

He hadn't, though he hadn't been victorious either. The letter had been a shock, and then a subject of wariness and consideration for him; rumors were thick that the princess was gathering to her side the Regency to help her in her bid for the throne, and Ashitaka, having just emerged from another brush with death and having faced weeks in Regency captivity, doesn't relish opening the door for either to happen to him again so soon.

And yet he is here. He has never more thought bravery just another word for foolishness. Yet this might be one of the only ways he could procure some information or opportunity that might be of use. He would not let it go to waste.

Just as she had said, the proffered letter gains him entry to where she kept her private audience, in an elevated box with an enviable view of the arena below. Ashitaka spares just a single view of it (a single thought of what he must have looked like down there, dissolving beneath the weight of the curse as it consumed him from the inside out) before sweeping his gaze towards the princess herself, awash in the light so uncharacteristic from the rest of Aranean sensibilities he had seen thus far. He pays little heed to it; from what he has heard, the princess is very controversial for such proclivities. He reminds himself not to be so easily distracted.

It is easier said than done. The careful mask of his expression slips just a bit at the shock of her bright, friendly smile, the cordial and familiar nature of her words. He puts it back into place, slowly going through the motions of a deep, respectful bow. It is obviously a well-practiced motion for him, though it's lacking in some fluidity - that's true for most of his movements, however, and the cause might be discerned to the sharp eye as the bandages that were visible around his neck just above where his collar reached, wound around the wrist of his right hand. When he regains his footing and stands once more, there's little that could be nitpicked about his posture; he crosses his arms behind his back, speaking with far more smoothness than his actions offered him. "Princess Chch, it is an honor to meet you."

He knows enough to know that the suggestions of royalty are rarely simply suggestions. He complies wordlessly, approaching to a more comfortable conversational distance. He spares a single look for the human which sits at her feet, though he is very careful not to say anything nor allow his expression to betray the slight twinge in his gut at the situation. He has been among their civilization for weeks now and it is still something he grapples with, but he knows one could not fell the largest tree in the forest with a knife. His gaze returns to the princess, cautious and wary. "My recovery has been without complication or issue. I am grateful for your well-wishes, and appreciative of the gift which accompanied them."

Though he finds himself wondering to the identity of the previous owner of that skull.

[agogenpc]

The servant at her feet watches him through her lashes, but still, she watches, as keenly as her mistress. Though her expression stays serious, where Chch's is bright, open. Guileless as a young woman.

"I am glad to hear it. You looked in an agony as you fell. It wound my heart in my breast to see it."

As he rises, she beckons him closer as she sits up, rising that little further that moves her pool of skirts, frothing lace and ripples of silk about her ankles, and her servant moves with her, careful of her mistresses clothes. "Will you let me look upon you nearer? I do not think I will believe it until I see it for myself."

[lonelywar]

Most of the young women Ashitaka had known before all of this were anything but guileless.

If anything, acting in such a way merely makes him more cautious.

His gaze flickers downward at the comment, momentarily obscured by his lashes before he looks back up to the princess. "I am grateful that you spared such thought for me. What happened was... regrettable. I would wish that you would not have had to see such a thing."

He had seen how Nago had died; he had been the one to commit him to such an ignoble fate. He knows what it must have looked like.

At the request, Ashitaka pauses, an infinitesimal breach in conduct. Then he acquiesces with a nod, taking a few more cautious paces toward the young Aranean. He has little question in his mind what it is she means. His arms uncross from his back, and he reaches to unwind some of the bandages from his wrist and the lower part of his forearm; unfortunately it was at the origin of his curse that he bore the most physical damage, and the deepest of the wounds were still on their last stage of healing. He bares to her the portion of the mark that encircles his arm, around his wrist, extending even around his thumb to reach into his palm. To a human the blue-purple mark would merely be strange, concerning in its mysteriousness, but he knew it would tell a different story to an Aranean: it was a malevolent magic both folded into flesh and entangled into a soul, potent despite being only an echo of a god long since dead.

Ashitaka, faintly disquieted, watches her response with keen eyes.

[deem]

It comes as a surprise to 9S that he should be issued an invitation by a member of the royal family after a loss, close and brutal as the match had been. Death by narrow margins is nothing new to him, as a Scanner unit known for suffering fatal damage more than is typical of his unit type, and he imagines it was an inglorious sort of demise to witness. But he might be mistaken, for androids savor combat and not death.

He'd be a fool to decline the invitation, when he has hoped to gather more data on the rulers of this world, and the Princess herself. It may be equally foolish as well to accept, but at least he may acquire more information for his trouble, and that's reason enough for his attendance.

When he enters the chamber, he pauses to survey (record) his surroundings before he advances. Once he's reached what appears to be an acceptable distance, he halts and offers a salute in observance of due formalities, placing his left hand before his chest.

"Thank you for your kind words and gift, Your Highness. My repairs are complete, and everything is in working order, so I can't complain. Soldiers like me are accustomed to death, although I'd have liked to represent my kind better." He allows this show of candor before moving along smoothly, "And are you well, if I may ask?"

[agogenpc]

She sighs with a flutter of her lace garments, her hand rising to her chest. "Of course. I was not the only one that lamented your falling. Though so many are - "

The Crown Princess shakes her head, cutting herself off. Grief-stricken or at least greatly moved by his plight. "I fair well. Better now to see you whole. But, come - do not stand on ceremony here. Let us speak, now. Face to face."

She draws him in with a turn of her wrist, beckoning him to the seat across from her.

[deem]

9S can't recall a time when someone seemed this troubled by his death, save for one person. And that one person had loved him, which itself is vastly different. It begs the question of whether the Princess is showing this sympathy to gain an advantage, or truly finds a temporary death this disquieting a thing, despite her peoples' culture. Curious indeed.

The time 9S invests in questioning this is merely a moment, concluding with the simple resolve to find out for himself. What else would a Scanner do, after all? So he follows her gesture without hesitation, carefully depositing himself in the vacant seat she had indicated. "Thanks," a little too casual, as he had always been, but he tries to sweep it aside. "So are you going to speak with everyone who lost like this?"

This too is casual as he swings his feet, though he asks with purpose as he looks up at her. 9S is small by human standards, but his compact nature hardly concerns him.

this-is-fine.jpeg

[horsepowered]

The letter was a surprise. It was also something that put Chiron on the defensive, as of all the attention to attract, the princess that was known to favor the Regency was not ideal. The gift that came with the letter felt like a perfect encapsulation of the citizens here. Beautiful from afar, and alarming once one got up close.

But there was no luxury of refusal. It would be a slight, one that was unacceptable and could damage COST even further. They needed a success here, or else there would be greater harm done somewhere else. To some other god or primordial being, and Chiron found that unacceptable.

He shared the information and where he would be going with his Master (promising that the telepathic link between them would be kept open the entire time), and made his way to the private booth some two days after his defeat. His supply of mana was nearly full, and so he moved with perfect ease, as if there was no damage done to him at all. More than anything else, more than the COST uniform he wore, more than the link to Dany in case of danger, being healthy was the requirement for himself here.

Chiron went through all elements of the formality with poise and strict attention to detail, unable to take in the decor of the princess' surroundings. Not yet.

Once that much was done, Chiron gently tested the waters regarding how formal this conversation was to be.

"The gift you sent alongside your letter is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship. I am extremely humbled by and grateful for it."

[agogenpc]

"I am glad you find it so." Is the chittered reply, fond, caring. Perhaps pointedly so, that once he steps into her private booth, it cannot be ignored.

"It was a gift given to me when I first slew one of my sisters. We receive many such items upon such occasions." That too is said with warmth, moving lightly to beckon him to sit in the chair that had been set out for visitors. The servant that sits at Chch's feet is still, even now, with her eyes turned down.

[horsepowered]

"No wonder the work may as well be a piece of art."

The gift's original purpose, a celebration related to bloodshed, went some way to explaining the teethmarks on the saw, as well as the use of gold on the blade. It was too soft a metal for a truly practical purpose, that was why medical instruments used far stronger stuff.

Chiron let himself be guided over to the chair with a calm demeanor, putting every effort forward to radiate the same air he always did. Doubtlessly, his nerves would be expected. He would not let them show.

What he is more careful to do is not sit before the princess makes herself comfortable, but he does regard her servant for a beat. There are questions that rise to the tip of his tongue, such as the young woman's name and if they are to be formally introduced, but those are not questions he is permitted to ask.

"May I ask your opinion of the fights you have seen thus far?"

It was as safe a topic, as far as Chiron could guess. He wanted to test the waters. Needed to, for his own safety.

[dorzalta]

An invitation by the princess would be a stupid thing to reject. For however much she'd told Hei she supported the queen, it was in the interest of COST to do so, having been informed that the princess seemed to sympathize with the Regency more. Machinations, courtly intrigue--these were things of her Spider, and it was clear where Varys' loyalties stood. More than that, it reminds her of her father and the Usurper.

On the other hand, she's also seen the queen's rule, the cruelty in the court, the wrongs in this culture. A culture that is unique to the Araneans, and not one she's been sent to correct; she was here on COST's behalf, and if she could find commonality and begin bridging the gap between princess and her unit, all the better.

So she arrives, alone--Irriella left with Jon, for she trusts none of her daughter's older siblings (and she'd prefer not to cause inadvertent offense), and her link with Chiron open--dressed in COST's uniform, but with the three-headed dragon brooch on her breast. Silver braids in the multiples, threaded back into the singular.

"Well met, your grace. Thank you for the beautiful gift and words," she says in return, bowing as she's begrudgingly learned. Practice with Marie Antoinette allows for a measure of pleasantries sans stung queenly pride. Linking her fingers together before her, she steps further into the space, gaze flicking over her surroundings--the human by the princess' feet--before she meets the gaze of an entirely human face. Her lips quirk in the makings of amusement. "A rather curious piece of advice with it."


[ ooc: she might or might not have a gift in return for the princess, we're still working on that OOCly, so she'd keep that on the DL for now. ]

[agogenpc]

"They are important words for any Aranean."

She beckons her closer then and invites her to the seat across from her that overlooks the impressive view of the arena. Below a team of fighters square up against another group of fighters.

"Though, perhaps not as clear for those who are not aware of all of our... habits." It's teased, rather than spoken mockingly.

[dorzalta]

"Something I should be aware to teach the High Queen's hatchling, then?"

She means Irriella. A careful broach of the subject as she steps closer, no hesitance as she claims the seat proffered. The view below them is impressive, indeed, reminding her of Meereen to some extent.

"I've traveled many lands and cities, your grace, and have seen fierce warriors both in my world and with COST." Looking back to the princess now, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Mysterious though your people's habits are to me, I would love to learn more."

twinsies.

[duskmeadow]

Of course they accept. There wasn't any other course of action, Percy's objections be damned. This meeting is what their gruesome defeat has bought them. Neither of the twins are the type to turn and run, and they go nowhere separately. They arrive together in purples and gold, neatly coiffed and prepared for whatever this meeting might be. Even with her human skin to put them at ease, Vax can't completely set aside what he knows she must be capable of. His eyes flick over the one-armed girl, then cuts sideways to Vex.

"We're grateful for the invitation," Vax answers, expression brightening into a smile even as he moves forward. "I swear, I healed faster after reading it and receiving your gift."

Which had scorched a neat circle around his wrist, visible if his sleeve shifts just so.

"I know Vex and I are both glad to have a chance to thank you in person."

His tone is sweet, even if Vax suspects he won't be able to relax a moment while he's in this booth. Even knowing that she's a spider, he's reminded of a dragon when he takes in the opulence of her surroundings.

[faenthras]

No, they had no other choice. Ignoring the invitation would have only bought them anger of someone in a more powerful position than they. And in truth Vex could not help but curious as to what the princess wanted from them. Why else would she invite them into her company? It was not some whim that spawn this, Vex is certain, it was with purpose.

Vex keeps to her brothers side, glancing over the decor with a critical eye, still she shares Vax's smile, the sideways glance, moving forward along side him.

"My brother is correct," Much like Vax, her tone is sweet, similar to a tone he has undoubtedly heard before. "I am honored to be able to meet Your Highness and express my gratitude in person."

It's funny how easily they share thoughts, Vex's own mind reminded that of Raishan in this moment. Of the Betrayer that sought them out and sought to bargain, to beg their aid in taking down Thordak. Vex has to wonder, standing in the face of the opulence of her booth, if she means to do the same.

[agogenpc]

What a pair they look. Twins - her hand lifts to her mouth with a soft laugh as they come to stand before her.

"Oh do come, forgive me. I have not seen twins since my sisters were hatched." It's cooed, like a young girl looking at a new favourite doll. But when she beckons them, it isn't to the seat across from her. She shifts sitting straight into her chair, shooing her maid off with a wave of her hand. "Come, come, I must look at you. You will let me, won't you?"

A spot for one of them, either side of her. Which she pats, invitingly beside her terrifying tall form. The implication there as ever, she asks, but truly, is it asking?

[prizeneck]

He's still clenching his teeth while he opens the locket, asks for a servant - they always make it look like he's demanding them to, which is why he barely resorts to do so most of the time - to read it. It's short, neutral, and pleasantries aside, it's interesting.

He's fiddling around with the locket in his fingers when he asks the servant to leave, unable to see beyond the surface of what he knows, at least from texture, must be a picture. Maybe a picture of hers? Of her mother? Someone altogether different? Something that he probably should ask.

Mamoru doesn't really need to make sure that the sudden liquid coating around the groves of his fingertips is blood; he knows the scent and the texture of it well enough. Still, his face contorts with a grimace. These habits of theirs, playing around with blood, lives, violence, as if they're some sort of aesthetic choice, it all displeases him, tone down their purpose, function, and those who have them. It cheapens them.

Still, Mamoru has been both knight and pawn times enough to recognize this letter for what it is: a power move.

Subtly, even if he's aware that the news have circulated already with the servant reading his letter, dictates to the BCE a short message in a low voice as he washes his hands:

@SWORDARTONLINE » @CMDR @SCOUT:
summoned to the princess vip booth in the stadium
communications cut for the time being
standby

When he walks over to the guards, shows them her letter, passes by the click of the mandibles without much of a thought and barely glances at the lavish decor - though once again, he finds it too garish, too many surfaces making the grid work in the projection in his eyes unnecessarily complicated. His sight is still not as intricate as when he had been in the middle of the forest in the giant fish in space, but he doesn't really care for the flare of it.

He zeroes in on the human, though, always unable to ignore such a harsh discrepancy. He barely has time to give a good look at her, and yet, perhaps because at the same time there was a roar in the crowd from a victory (and a subsequent loss) in the arena, his stomach lurches. He takes a deep breath, and follows protocol.

"Your Grace," he is very well aware of his nape being shown with the bow, eyes narrowing beneath the red tinted glass of his shades. If anything, he's a quick learner, so he spews all the bullshit that tastes just like the goop he threw up back at BASE for a week. "Devastated. I'm afraid I can't appreciate your gift as well as it should be."

"You wished to talk?"

[agogenpc]

"Oh, that is a shame." She flushes briefly over it - she had been looking to make a good impression on them. Her eyes downcast briefly, and her servant moves her remaining hand in what seems a moment of consolation. "Was it not to taste?"

Then her hand lifts, suddenly. "Wait, you must come and whisper it to me, as long as you promise to be gentle in your sincerity with me." She feigns, like her heart might break over such a thing.

[dipolar]

Flashes the Princess' summons to the guards and sees himself escorted to her. It's a journey that takes a bit longer due to the injured leg he still favours and tries so poorly to hide—they get there in due time, in one piece, and Hei's glad for the promised rest when Her Grace, in all of her royal fabrics, invites him in to sit with her.

His eyes are drawn naturally to the decorations, even as he sweeps into an impressive bow to satisfy the guards who leave them to stand watch outside.

"Your Grace," said as he straightens and responds to the Princess beckoning him forward, lifting his chin to ignore the human slave at her side. "I'm fine, I've had injuries much worse than this. Are you enjoying the matches?"

[agogenpc]

It is an impressive bow, and she seems for a moment, quite taken with it. Her decidedly human gaze, looking over him appraisingly.

Though his words draw her gaze back out and over the cheer that comes in from the open view. One then another battle ending, cries tearing up the air at another death, another victor. "As much as one can over such events."

[handsomefoil]

Henry is only but a servant level in the eyes of many Araneans, which makes him wonder if he's at a disadvantage here. The guards eye him with a sharpness that he can't shake, so he holds himself as high as possible all while trying to make it look just as effortless. He's always practiced a certain grace and he's grateful it's come in handy for this entire mission.

Her greeting is a pleasant surprise, but that only makes it all the more alarming and keeps him on his toes. He performs a perfect bow, well-balanced and graceful as usual.

"Your Grace, Princess Chch," he greets, the lilt of his accent flowing a little heavier due to the incredibly Celtic-inspired decor. It just hits home for him, a little nostalgic. "I'm honored by Your Grace's invitation. All things considered, I'm faring well. Can't say much for my pride, however."

While his words are relatively formal with a little jab at himself at the end there to test the waters, he manages not to appear too stiff, as if he's used to situations like this. Despite her intimidating size, the servant at her feet, and the knowledge of consequences should he step out of line, it's a danger he's familiar with: Being smack-center in unknown territory.

[raisedbybirds]

At first, Samus thinks the letter is a joke. Fake. Unreal. She almost crumples it up and throws it away, almost tosses the ornate knifes (was this a mockery?) into a trash bin; too stricken with existential plight following her untimely death in the area and the horrific vision that followed. She questions what else is fake and unreal until her composure settles in the days following. It doesn't matter, does it? She has a mission to get back to.

It would of course be foolish to deny this letter but she thinks it wouldn't be as foolish as what she's done already, and so she goes, dressed not quite as ornately as before and feeling it with every judgmental eye following her. That said she's still put some care into her appearance, even if it's difficult to completely hide her new glittering scar when it fans over her shoulders and converges down her spine like vestigial wings.

Entering Chch's booth is almost as surreal as waking up on base. Samus feels like she's spent so long in darkened corridors and discharging black ichor from her body that the wash of light and bright colors are almost nauseating. She hates it more to think she prefers the opposite at all and so she stomachs it, squints her eyes and blinks it away.

Chch gets a well-practiced bow, Samus performs it with a robotic like formality. As soon as she can be done with it, she's done with it, then standing tall and looking Chch in the eyes. It's hard to not look at her 'pet' because she doesn't want to feel any more disdain being here, and little of it is even Chch's fault. Under her arm and carried with care is the case she was gifted with containing the ornate knifes. It seemed like the easiest kind of weapon to smuggle in here, not that she's hoping for this to go badly.

"I'd tell you I'm well but that would be a lie." And she knows how spiders love those.

Her eyes look past Chch, momentarily distracted by the sounds of the arena. Despite defeat she didn't not enjoy herself in there, and she knows she'd probably hop right back in if there was a need. She laments that sentiment. "Time passes strangely after death."

Chch gets her gaze again and Samus moves closer, takes her time appaising her features; the way her limbs splay and how clothes lay across them, the way her smile pulls on her face more naturally and how her eyes are easy to settle on to. Much more than her mother's. "Yet here I am again, almost like it never happened at all."