Harrison hated the smell of charred bugs. It permeated into everything, soaking into his armor and getting through the military-grade filters of his helmet… At least the mech pilots were having a blast, bulldozing the several-foot-high piles of organs, blood, and shells out of the way.

The engineer stood over the parapets, watching over the remains being pushed into metal crates, soon to be pulled into the recycler placed within the star-fort's walls and turned into his beloved biofuel. More burnable life juice meant more liquid explosives, which meant more strength for the settlement.

Thankfully, that whole process was automated and only needed the Malkrin to dump the bodies into place, letting him deal with issues the blood-moon had brought up. Namely, chewing out the girls for melting the interior of their M2 barrels… and subsequently getting his own chewing out by Tracy with the collective backing of the entire settlement for running down the wall to save the logistics girl. Was it the smartest thing to do? No, not really, but what else was he supposed to do? Waste precious time formulating a plan? He got the job done, and most people didn't get hurt.

Harrison stepped back onto the cargo lift with Shar and two guards, quickly descending to the ground floor of the settlement. It was about midday, but he had yet to have breakfast, as Shar insisted he stay in bed for an extra hour to rest. Or, in other words, she shackled him with her tail and got lost in another massage.

But that didn't matter, and he definitely didn't complain about how she mended his sores. The fact that he was hungry meant that Shar must've been absolutely starving. A trip to the mess hall was a must. Not to mention that it was lunchtime for the squads anyway. He had been subtly preparing for the upcoming holiday without even bringing it up to the settlement once. There were machines in place for cloth, alcohol, and a few materials for their games.

Oh yeah, the fisherwomen twins, Vodny and Morskoy, were going to love him for what he had prepared.

Harrison approached the doors of the third dormitory, a resounding cacophony of growls and crashes reaching his ears from outside. Again? He took in a deep breath and yanked the door open.

The shouts of intent stopped immediately as the door closed behind Shar, all the belligerents of the meal's battle stopping as if time froze. The two groups, split up into aquatic skin-tight suits and heavy armor, clashed between the two rows of wooden tables. One fisherwoman was held into the air by a shields-woman. Another anti-tank specialist was in the middle of throwing a black-skinned farmer off her back. The rest seemed to be locked in other physical confrontations across the mess hall front.

All of their eyes locked onto him, as each combatant quickly lost their strength and let go of their counterparts, looking away from them as if they were strangers.

"Akula. Javelin. C'mere," he ordered flatly, loud enough to echo across the suddenly-silent room. There was only the quiet Southern Martian music that the chef preferred, distantly originating from a speaker inside the kitchen. The harvesters watched with passive interest, minding their own business off to the side.

The addressed leaders of their groups had their tails held limp. Akula kept her head up, but Javelin did her best to look anywhere but at him. Their footsteps echoed through the room, while their respective squads sheepishly returned to their seating arrangements across the center walkway from one another. He watched a little longer, making sure none of them were hurt any more than they already were from the blood-moon. Thankfully, they weren't; he wouldn't have to raise his tone so much, then.

The two called-out Malkrin stopped a few feet in front of him. He scrubbed the remnants of exhaustion out of his eyes and greeted them tonelessly. "What did I say last time?"

"We were ordered not to cause any brawls in the mess hall," Akula responded deferentially. She looked at the yellow-skinned guardswoman beside her and sneered. "I, however, was not the cause of this infraction; that would be your lower-class captain here."

Javelin's head shot up and she bared her teeth toward the overseer, growling. "You cannot blame me for the arrogance of your underlings, you dried-up fish-sodomizer!"

The dark green-skinned fisherwoman raised her snout and wore a face of disgust. "Are you trying to insinuate that my squad is anywhere as savage as your barbarians?"

She looked at Harrison, sly arrogance in her voice. "I'm sure you understand that the noble fisherwomen of your grand settlement are sensible and prudent with their actions. They were merely defending themselves."

Harrison felt Shar huff from above him, the two strike-squad girls on his flanks similarly clenching their teeth in annoyance. He kept himself impartial, nodding toward the yellow-skinned captain. "What happened, Jav?"

Javelin settled her expression, her tone failing to fully relax under the stress and frustration clearly roiling inside her; her ears folded against her head, yet her snout was wrinkled in anger. "Forgive my ignorance over the initial events, but I was busy conversing over our daily training when I noticed my machine-gunner—" she gestured to her squad, who were intently watching the conversation. "—was being berated by a fisherwoman at the counter. I stepped up to listen, finding the belligerent to be talking down to my sister spear over a perceived lack of abhorrent kills on our part."

"It was to my understanding that my fisherwoman simply worried for our Creator's health over the blood-moon's duration," Akula butted in indifferently, arms crossed over her chest. "Artificer Tracy has shown us the footage of the southern front, and we all thought that, perhaps, when considering the strike-squad's performance compared to ours, you may be safer under our protection. We never faltered in the face of flying abhorrent."

A low growl came from Shar, the full-toned reverberations rattling his chest. Harrison reached back and placed a placating palm on her knee. He looked at the various white and red bandages on the overseer's squad, knowing that some of the damage was from the corrosive spitters… Then again, he had the majority of the flying bugs' attention last night.

Javelin scowled, staring daggers into the overseer, her ears pointing to the ceiling. "And here you continue to mock our chief's leadership. He is on the southern front to guide the higher-trained squad against the most pressing hordes. Your ignorance of the resistance we face is repulsive and arrogant. You cannot possibly comment on skill nor the Creator's decisions when you have not faced the worst of a blood-moon."

The overseer incredulously raised a brow, about to respond when Harrison interjected, keeping his same, detached voice. "Akula, you know this isn't about safety. Javelin is right on the fact that I put myself on the south because I realize that's where the bugs congregate the most. I've put your squad up north, because I trust you to be my counterpart and autonomously counter whatever comes your way."

"Your… counterpart…?" Akula questioned in a short-lived daze, her near-silent intent barely reaching him as the smallest flush of blue took over her snout. She shook her head. "Of course. That is why I have been tasked as the overseer in your absence. Nonetheless, my squad's opinion is negligible for the outcome of the others' barbarism. I assure you, none of mine were the first to escalate the conflict. That fact is irrefutable."

The yellow-skinned guardswoman's ears deflated once more as the guilt of her apparent actions took over her anger. She abashedly bowed her head to him—though she was still practically staring down at him. "I had not meant to let my emotions get the better of me… I could not stand their hubris."

Harrison sighed, trying his hardest not to pinch his nose. "So you did escalate it… Because the fisherwomen thought they would be better guards for me during the blood-moon?"

He loved the Malkrin, but it was interactions like this that made things bumpy. Their loyalty to him specifically was a double-edged sword if he'd ever seen one. A low, gravelly cadence slowly burrowed its way through his words as he spoke.

"I respect your pride in your squads, and I'm grateful you work well with them. But, you—" he pointed a finger at one of them, dragging it to the other. "—should realize that you're not two separate entities. You're only in different squads because of your professions, the benefit of splitting leadership, and work cohesion. You have your orders, and I expect you to follow them. One to guard the north, the other to guard the south. There is no 'better team' nor is there a more optimal place for me. You kill the bugs, help your own teams, and pull your weight to keep everyone alive.

"If there are any actual worries, I would be happy to listen. What I'm not happy to listen to is two cocky superiors, who are mutually responsible for our settlement's safety, bickering over something that could have been better resolved if you'd brought it up to me. Take your jobs seriously."

Akula bowed her head, her ears finally drooping. "I had not meant to undermine our settlement's cohesion, Great Creator."

Javelin did the same, repentantly admitting, "I was much the same. I had only wished to…"

The yellow-skinned captain seemed to hesitate in justifying herself. She relented with an exhale. "Forgive me. Your vision is supreme over my arguments."

Harrison shook his head, already exhausted from the conversation. "Good. Tell your squads. They should know all that by now. I've told y'all a thousand times to come to me first."

The others nodded obediently, signalling the end of the conversation in his mind, but they still didn't move. He continued with a huff, "Go on then. Tell your squads."

His orders were quickly followed, letting him finally get to his meal. He walked past the gathering group and the strike squad, toward the kitchen, where Chef greeted him with a full meal placed on the counter. He wrung his hands together, apparently waiting to speak to the engineer.

"You have not eaten your breakfast, Creator. Was there something amiss with its preparation? Had I added too little glowberry?" the pink-skinned male asked, holding his breath nervously.

Harrison held up a hand and shook his head, taking the offered plate of seasoned fish and hydroponics-grown leafy vegetables. "No, nothing like that. I've never really had a complaint about your cooking, so don't worry. I was just busy this morning."

A tail subtly slid around the back of his waist. Chef raised a brow, looking between him and his giant guardian.

A subtle smile grew over the male's maw. "I see… However, it was you who informed me that breakfast was an important meal for the day. I understand how important your morning… duties… are, but it is imperative you stay well-fed. I hope this lunch is satisfactory. There are extra servings for you if need be, unless your paladin consumes six portions, that is."

The engineer looked up at Shar's glazed-over eyes, taking in how intently they stared into the meal he held. He chuffed in amusement. "Well, she might just. I'd give her an extra one to start."

The pink-skinned cook shrugged, turning around and grabbing a large tray from a drawer and stacking four meals on it. Sharky took it eagerly, softly tugging on his waist. He followed her to the strike team's table.

His entrance was greeted by a few apologies from the big girls. He waved them off and slid between Shar and a shields-woman, feeling like a toddler at the adult table as always. He settled in with his meal, letting the two towers beside him keep him cramped.

The spears, as the girls started to refer to themselves individually, continued their prior conversation over the blood-moon. They offered compliments and boasted about their handiwork, sometimes voicing their worries. Harrison appreciated the latter during the discussion; the defense was a lot closer than he would have liked… Thankfully, they had more than enough footage and could train the turret's targeting system.

However, categorizing the new types of bugs would fall into the hands of a different woman…

Speaking of said woman, the door to the cafeteria swung open and revealed the black-haired mastermind herself. She looked up to a mech pilot, smirking over some joke he wasn't privy. Her group strode down the center aisle. Some of the fisherwoman and harvesters respectfully bowed their heads as she passed. Tracy usually ate at her workstation, but since he had come back from the mining module, she had been convinced by the mech pilots to interact more with the others. He was happy to see her out more.

The technician grabbed a tray of food and sauntered over to the table behind him. She was the closest to him, her team's proximity immediately opening up conversation between the squads. A machine-gunner asked her about the drones during the smoke barrage, while another mech pilot was questioned about what the fighting looked like at the heart of the swarm.

It wasn't until one of the shields-women started talking about kill count again did the other two squads show up to the party. They found seats at the ends of the large tables or stood around the sidelines. Most had finished their meals by then, anyway.

He focused on his own conversation through the various streams of intent passing him by, parsing through all the voices and latching onto the ones he wanted to pay attention to. It was a skill he was getting better at, becoming just the same as sifting through a loud room for a specific voice. Sometimes, a Malkrin would try and talk to him directly, in which their channeled intent would be a step louder than the rest.

One harvester worried about not finishing their drilling project for the day, given her squad was currently wasting their time talking. She anxiously brought it up to Harrison but he waved it off. He was just happy to have everyone in one place. It was nice seeing the squads talk with each other, even if it was mostly bragging about or comparing blood-moon tactics.

Well, almost everyone was there. He had Akula send off one of her girls to find Cera and Oliver. He suspected they might've been doing some mattress dancing, against his hopes for not adding or subtracting to the settlement population. But oddly enough, they were separated. The craftsman was reading up on some electronics basics, while Cera 'appeared' in front of the girl dispatched to find her.

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They appeared in the cafeteria, their tails wrapped around each other, and joined in on the settlement-wide conversation as a pair. Their presence hammered in how crowded it had become, and Harrison wasn't sure if everyone had ever been in the same room before. This might've been a first for the colony.

Currently, the engineer rested his back against the table and looked over at Crosshairs, the call sign of the shopkeeper-turned-mech pilot, and discussed the viability of a bunker mech. It was offered by the male as a mobile bastion to provide heavy fire support and direct strikes, something akin to an armored personnel carrier.

"Something like that could also be suited as a transport vehicle, too, now that you mention the belly storage space and gunnery positions. The truck's great, but it's a lot more open to attacks with the girls just lying in the back," Harrison offered, slipping his fingers between the cracks of Shar's heavy tail armor and scratching the skin beneath. His ministrations led to a heavy purr rumbling through his right shoulder.

All the while, he was valiantly defending against 'footsies' attacks by Tracy, who was intent on kicking his shins for some unknown, devious, and quite frankly sadistic reason. Her attempts at stealing his attention had obviously lost all of their original aims, now completely hinging on the enjoyment she got out of bugging him. She was lucky her smile and giggles at his slip-ups were adorable, or he'd have quite a lot to say about her actions.

The male mech pilot only gave infrequent looks at the technician's shenanigans, continuing with his case. "That is entirely possible. I would not know how that aspect would work, as I know not of what blueprints you have. However, back on the topic of the blood-moon, I would like you to see the hunter kill count to understand how effective forward-placed assets are in combat."

"You know your kill counts?" Harrison asked, simultaneously dodging Tracy's boot attack and catching her leg between his calves.

Tracy answered his question, failing to squirm her leg out of his grasp. "Rei and Talos wanted to compare their effectiveness, so I just had Sebas take the footage and tally up their kills per minute."

The juvenile, who sat behind Tracy, chipped in with a small smirk, her intent quiet despite the excitement behind it. "Ten kills per minute—including the time between waves. One-thousand-six-hundred total kills."

"Our slaughtering can be counted?" Sharky asked, leaning forward to the technician. "Why have we not yet exposed our fish-licking overseer's lies?"

"Why have we not yet proven our paladin's ineffectiveness on the battlefield, either?" Akula snapped back from off to the side, quieting the different conversations across the tables. Shar's purring came to an abrupt stop, replaced by a different kind of rumbling in her chest. The dark green-skinned squad leader simply continued to pick her teeth of leftover meat, uncaring of the paladin's snarl.

Tracy's leg struggle stopped and she crossed her arms over her chest, letting out an amused laugh. "You guys want your kills tracked too? All the footage from the modules, turrets, and drones is saved for further reference, so it's possible."

"I think that would be an excellent idea." The overseer squinted at the paladin. The two rows of bench-sitting Malkrin between Harrison and her all stared at the warring titans, just the same as those on the fringes.

"Depends on if Harry-man approves." The technician jolted him with her trapped leg.

The engineer gave Tracy an incredulous look, grumbling. "I'd like a tally of how many bugs appeared during the blood-moon and compare it to the last few. I'll approve it as long as it doesn't go to their heads. They'll have to promise not to put themselves, or others, in danger for points on a leaderboard."

He dragged his glare across the rows of Malkrin, the few who knew he was talking about them subtly shrinking under his gaze. They all gave him a guilty nod.

The tradeswoman pulled out her data pad, quickly tapping a message to Sebas before announcing, "Alright, the data should be calculated pretty soon. Might take a little while longer with his other observations going on. If you want the count on your watches, you'll have to see me. Otherwise, I can just post the tallies somewhere for everyone to view."

"How swell. I suppose we shall soon uncover whose personal tactics were superior," Sharky commented, still boring a hole into the overseer with her eyes.

"Comparisons should only be for improvement. Not petty squabbles," Rook's deep voice interjected from behind the engineer.

The paladin bobbed her head, her intent still pointed. "Precisely."

The Head Harvester didn't pay her any attention, holding an arm out wide to grandly gesture. "If anything, we should use these numbers to celebrate our fighting effectiveness and the greatness of our settlement!"

A wave of agreement washed over the mass of Malkrin piled around the two tables. It was soon followed by a stuffy silence as the conversation died away. Perfect timing.

Harrison cleared his throat, looking around. "Speaking of celebrating. Winter is approaching pretty quickly. I wanted to ask: how many of you celebrate the 'Grand Catch Festival?' Raise your hands."

Everyone stared back at him with tilted heads and raised brows, curiously raising their hands one by one. It was only he and Tracy who had their hands down, and even she slowly raised hers after realizing she stood out. So it was more or less a universal thing. Though, one individual caught his interest; the land-based holiday seemed a bit odd for her.

He raised a brow to Akula, who responded nonchalantly with a shrug. "I enjoyed the festivities over my winters spent on land."

That… was interesting. He'd have to ask her about her history later. "Right. This is sort of last minute, but how would y'all like to celebrate the Grand Catch Festival tonight in place of the usual post-blood-moon party? We have just about everything for it—fishing, games, and food."

Slaps of flesh and clanks of metal smashed the silence as nearly forty Malkrin tails came to life at once, wagging and accidentally hitting one another. Ears perked up like bread out of a toaster. Their frills vibrated. And, their maws were adorned with pleased grins. Most importantly, he locked eyes with the fisherwoman he spoke to previously, the one who brought up the holiday in the first place.

The fisherwoman wore the brightest, toothiest smile. Her eyes were glowing bright blue, a flush running through her cheeks when she stared right back at him. One of the farmers elbowed her in the side playfully, looking between the two.

Another jolt of activity off to the edge took his attention, drawing his attention to the chef being wrapped up in Akula's finned tail. They bantered and smiled, blissfully gazing into each other the entire time until the pink male tilted his head, asking her a question. The overseer's eyes went wide momentarily before she stopped to consider the male's words.

It wasn't long before her criticism was made known, calmly directed toward the engineer. "What of the maturation gowns and alcohol?"

Harrison cringed. "The alcohol's covered, but the dresses… well…"

"Those are unnecessary," Sharky stated firmly, her tail pressing tightly into his thighs. "We would be fine with a night of fishing, games, food, and celebrations."

"And smear the purpose of the holiday?" Akula chastised, pulling the pink-skinned male closer to herself.

The paladin tilted her head. "The purpose? Are we not still delving into the sea as a settlement and preparing for the winter to come?"

"You gormless fool. Have you replaced your brain with the clouds you worship? I thought you would at least absorb something from your village; winter is approaching." Akula then gestured to… the engineer of all people.

Harrison raised his brows. The rest of the onlookers kept their mouths… frills… shut, their gazes between the maroon-skinned giant and the technician across from her. Their eyes went wide under some sudden realization, slowly turning toward him again.

What?

Sharky huffed a stream of air through her nostrils, her tail growing tighter over him. "Exactly. Winter is approaching. We should be stockpiling our resources. The star-sent machines are unparalleled; that fact is immutable, but they do not produce material from nothing. Wasting our supplies on frivolous pursuits of vanity is foolhardy."

"Did you not have your shield repainted with wings this morning? You are as hypocritical as you are ignorant," the overseer spat, the various-colored females of her team nodding in agreement.

Akula didn't give Shar a moment to retort, continuing her tirade. "Now, perhaps your values could appear less hollow if you allow your fellow settlers the same joy of regal 'vanity.'"

"Nonsense. Harrison allows all to decorate their—"

The overseer jabbed a finger at the defensive paladin, stepping forward between the legs and tails crowding the space between the tables. "Precisely! Harrison allows it! Why do you think I bring such up? Why do you think he wishes to celebrate this holiday? His foresight and consideration are far greater than your pip-fish-sized brain could comprehend.

"How do you not see it? In his endless grace, he wishes for us to feel familiarity as we would in our prior lives. He does not deliver unto us a frail crawl toward mere survival, he offers us a grand, golden wave of vigorous and righteous success beyond compare!"

Sharky faltered and failed to respond as her furrowed brows trembled. She couldn't find a way to gain the upper hand in the argument. The paladin glanced down at Harrison, a worried yet hopeful glint in her burning orange eyes asking him if it was true.

He nodded softly, a part of him always being on his guardian's side, even if he disagreed with her. "That's a bit much, but yeah. I want the settlement to thrive, not just survive. Sacrificing resources so you all feel at home or more comfortable or happier is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Materials can always be harvested and synthesized, but your lives and how you enjoy them can't. Simple as."

"I… see… But, how much luxury do you plan to allow for the garments?" the paladin asked.

"What do you mean?"

She looked toward the others and hesitantly tilted her head. "I have seen both nobles and commoners with their garments over my time as a paladin. Although those in villages do their best to recreate the fashion of the more influential families, there is a stark difference in the expense."

Akula scoffed. "We are royalty of Malkrin kind, and our cause is noble. We should act like it. The Creator shall define what is acceptable, but I believe our celebrations should be grand and our gowns the same."

Shar sharpened her eyes. "Your greed sickens me."

Harrison held a hand in front of the scowling paladin, looking toward the dark green-skinned squad leader. "It just depends on what kind of materials the fancy stuff requires. Synthetic cloth isn't so bad to produce, and the 'finer' stuff is actually easier to fabricate than the tougher material we made for your great coats. If you need something like gems or an island-specific resource, that's a different story."

"Nothing of the sort," the overseer assured. "We have the required metals and fabrics, and those are enough. Some may request other items, but that shall be left to your discretion or harvesting."

Harrison nodded, pleased to have a reasonable price for the celebration. He glanced around the swarm of Malkrin, looking at their respective squad leaders and addressing them.

"Alright, here's what we'll do. In the next few hours, you'll be back on track with your tasks. Harvesters continue with the deeper mining, but shouldn't worry about today's quota. The construction team needs to finish up the cave tunnel's foundations and supports. The fishers and farmers should focus on gathering efforts in the west, focusing on glowberries. Purple-fronds, and blue-leafs. And, the strike team will be continuing patrols and personal drone training throughout.

"However, we'll be bringing in each squad, one at a time, to see the sewist and seamstress about designing your personal maturation gowns. You'll have free rein over your choices, and I'll assume you know what you want, so go wild. If there's something unique or possibly expensive, get one of them to ask me. I'll be in the workshop. For now, we'll start with the strike team. Y'all good with that?"

The engineer received a staggered agreement from everyone, soon followed by the procession of the settlers working their way out of the mess hall, intent on getting their tasks done before the afternoon was over. He went to do the same, but he almost lost his footing as he stood up. It took half a second for him to realize that he was squeezing Tracy's leg with his own.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to keep it," Harrison swiftly apologized, releasing his prisoner.

"You're good," she responded cheerfully, standing up after him… and then kicking him in the shin. Her grin grew wider when he recoiled. She stood on her tippy-toes to playfully squint at him. "But maybe I like it when you're holding me down."

Her words hit him like a maglev train. He stumbled with his response, unable to get anything off his tongue before she squeezed his bicep and skipped away from him. The mech pilots and the script-keeper quickly followed behind her, not letting him respond.

"I'll see you tonight!" she called out from halfway down the mess hall. Her entourage smirked and waved too, Talos patting the technician on her shoulder all the while, explaining something to her.

"Well then," Harrison mumbled to himself, shaking off an, until then, unnoticed smile. He had his own work cut out for him for the afternoon as well. He gestured to the door and his guards nodded.

If he wasn't bothered too much, he might be able to wrap up the external metal plant blueprints.

\= = = = =

Shar'khee felt… empty without Harrison's immediate presence. They were separated and too distant from one another, his pulse almost imperceptible. Even when she knew he was fine, there were times her own heart would jump when she 'lost' his beat. The split-second terror tore at her each time, making it almost impossible for her to focus. Yet, she persisted. She had to.

Currently, Javelin was staring at her with a visage of utmost incredulity, completely bewildered with wide eyes and ears that pointed straight to the ceiling. She sternly gestured to the computer monitor that the seamstress and the medic had opened, pointing directly at a familiar design of a common maturation gown.

"What do you mean, you would rather wear the bandages and skin-tight shorts!? Baka!" her second-in-change shouted.

The paladin stepped back, holding a palm out in explanation. "I do not see what is wrong. I thought it outlined my features quite well, did it not? You said so yourself."

Javelin looked to the air in frustration before shoving a finger at the maroon-skinned female. "You are going to be outshone by everyone else! We are all going to dress as nobles, and you would put yourself as a mere warrior? Your bandages do well to show your features, but not in comparison to the settlement this evening! They will be wearing garments for the purpose of drawing the male gaze, guiding them to the most appealing! What if Harrison is wooed by another? Do you even want to be his first mate?"

Shar'khee looked away, locking eyes with Medic and the seamstress beside him. The tall, teal-skinned designer shook her head, while the male tapped at nonexistent horns on his forehead and raised both brows expectantly.

Their reactions gave the paladin nothing to work with, only sparking Javelin's tirade further. "You are lucky your horns have dissuaded others from being too forward. Yet, I doubt that will be the case tonight… especially if you allow yourself to be outdone. Their hunger is endless after all their fighting and labor. They will be ravenous and unyielding in their pursuits to silence the searing fires in their bellies. It is imperative you show off your everything! You must have all the tides in your direction."

The paladin stopped a stinging retort from forming and pondered the words hammered into her. She absently rubbed a horn. 'For the purpose of drawing the male gaze?' 'The purpose of the holiday?' 'Winter is approaching?' Had she forgotten something? She thought back to when she had witnessed her village partake in the celebrations. The friendly competitions between females, the dresses they wore, and the relationships born right before… winter…

Oh… OH.

Her face lit up at the realization, the meanings behind every interaction she had in the last hour coming to a zenith.

This would be no ordinary celebration. There was a goal… a reward for her actions and behavior during the holiday. The 'purpose' was now clear: she was to have her mate.

The reasons tied together when she truly pondered the designs of feminine maturation gowns. They were revealing for the females, showing off the shoulders and arms, whilst threads and sheer left the abdominals to a thin mirage of cover. Coral pieces or shiny rocks would adorn the commoner's garb in contrast to the finer metal or rare gem of the capitol residents.

They were for females to sell their strength. The clothing was a promotion of their best parts, the splendor an example of their affluence. Every thread was maintained and flaunted for that purpose.

Guardswomen's bone greaves were made to compete in the nightly games, whilst shopkeepers' hollowed metal gauntlets exemplified their wealth and stability. Necklaces of ivory, diaphanous chest coverings, and curtain-like cloth underneath the arms all served a purpose.

Javelin put all four fists on her hips, raising her brows expectantly. "Well? Do you wish to be his first mate, or will you allow the fisherwomen, harvesters, or even Tracy to take your rightful place? I recall you mentioning that the Goddess willed it."

Her rightful place… That which others coveted. Shar'khee's stomach felt weak and queasy, like sand fluttering in the tides. This goal she held onto for so long, those feelings she let brew in her mind… All of them balanced on her actions tonight.

Her heart churned at the opportunity, the finalization of this ever-growing crescendo relying on crossing one last trial. This deep oceanic trench of uncertain emotions must be swum over. She yearned and pleaded for more every night. His touch, the warm trails of fire he left behind with it, and the glowberry-sweet words off of his tongue drove a searing flame down her frills and between her hips like no other.

Every glimpse of his smile persuaded her forward. Every stretch of his untouched skin left her eager to feel its texture. Every heartbeat of his shook her own. Every whiff of his foreign musk addled her further. Every action not taken drove her mad.

No more… She felt her claws clench and her knees falter. The fire that burned throughout her body had taken enough. It had been ignored and sidelined for far too long. If she let it fester, she feared she may truly burn alive.

It must be satiated this night.

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