Tracy skirted around a corner and into an alleyway between the warehouse and the star-fort wall, several foam darts flying past her. She could hear the harvester team's footsteps approaching rapidly, cycling as fast as her and Rei's ragged breaths.

"The warehouse has been breached by the strike squad! I hear them!" the light gray-skinned and simplistic blouse-wearing mech pilot warned, holding her back to the wall. She stuck to the shadow beneath the floodlights, clutching her blue and orange 'weapon of war' tight.

The technician's hands were slick and cramped despite the frigid cold of the night, one palm on the gathering squad's stolen flag and another on her 'gun.' Somehow, her phthalo green dress remained intact, despite the hell she had run through. "What the hell happened to our team?"

Rei winced at the question, clenching her teeth. "Slaughtered at the hydroponics dome ambush. I saw them fall. Our hope lies in the certainty of Cera's skills."

"Fuck. We gotta move!" Tracy peeked around the corner with her semi-automatic blaster, spraying at random. One miner was hit in the chest, clutching the 'wound' and falling back with an audible 'ack!'

"Sister, no!" another shouted with wide eyes, reaching out for her fallen comrade. But it was too late, she had to start walking back to her spawn to wait for a minute. The standing female's expression contorted into rage, pointed directly at the still-staring technician.

Shit.

"Go! Go! Go!" Tracy ordered, pushing her teammate down the warehouse wall. "We're almost there!"

Rei stumbled under the force, picking up her pace and running down the half-shadowed alleyway. The two scrambled to the other end. Distinct 'pops' forewarned foam darts whizzing by the technician's head. She didn't even look back, firing indiscriminately until her gun was empty.

They were right there! Just through the tunnel and around the wind farm!

'Tunk,' was all she heard before her valiant friend, her faithful comrade, Rei, tumbled to the floor with a yelp.

Tracy skidded to a halt, noticing the plunger-tipped dart embedded into the mech pilot's back.

"Rei? REI!"

The light gray-skinned female raised her head with shuddering movements, reaching a hand out. Her intent was slow and labored, drawing the last of her breath. "Go on, Artificer Tracy. Capture… the flag…"

"No! I can't!" Tracy cried, aiming her dart blaster down the alley at the harvester, only to be met by a spine-chilling 'click.'

"Complete the game… for the teammm…" Rei whispered, falling completely limp.

"Dammit!"

The technician squeezed the flag pole into her armpit as she ran, haphazardly sliding foam bolts into her blaster. A brighter array of floodlights tried to blind her in the field of wind turbine trees.

One final stretch.

She laid out suppressive fire behind herself, completely ignorant to the three hulking figures sprinting toward her until the last moment. She dove out of the way of their fire, dipping between the thick metal poles for cover. It was the strike squad!

Their automatic weapons were ceaseless, spewing an endless hose of foam darts around each side of the pillar she hid behind. They would never run out of ammunition. They covered each other's reloads and formed a wall of imminent death wherever they went.

Tracy had suffered the same fate before. But now, she was outside her home base. She was not alone.

"Cera!" she hollered into the night, stuffing more rounds into her little gun.

A spear immediately cried out in 'pain,' falling down with a 'thunk.' There was a moment of silence before the attackers realized what happened, pausing their firing long enough for Tracy to dash to the next pole, and the next, and the next.

The strike squad was not deterred, running through the sniper fire behind her. Their pounding footsteps and the hum of their foam dart chain guns grew ever closer. The air snapped around her, inaccurate darts grazing her skin.

Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet.

Her two teammates left their flag-zoned 'spawn' with loaded guns, covering the last stretch.

Twenty feet.

A bolt struck her back, sending her 'careening' across the dirt—crawling across the ground to mimic the action, so her dress didn't get dirty.

Ten feet.

She held out the flag, letting Talos take the baton. "Your efforts shall not be forgotten, great Artificer."

Life fled from Tracy's eyes, blurry vision taking in the glory of the last objective as it was planted by their blue banner.

Zero feet.

A celebratory growl erupted from the two final defenders. The technician rolled over and stood up with her own cheer.

"Well, how about that?" Tracy touted with a wide smile, approaching their hard-fought flag.

Talos confidently slapped all four palms on her hips, subtly shaking her necklace of bullet casings. "A swell victory for our squad. It would seem the others were not prepared for such a peer-to-peer battle as we are."

"True. I doubt they'd last two minutes in a Mechbattler simulation."

A shadow flickered from along the wall, morphing into the shape of Cera in her black, simply-decorated blouse. Her bright, toothy smile shone under the floodlights in contrast to her ominous entrance. She loosely held onto a bolt-action dart blaster that was a hell of a lot smaller than her usual thirty-seven-millimeter rail gun.

"Nice shot, Cera," the technician complimented. She knew the 'sniper' foam dart weapons only looked like their name described. Those annoying ass commercials on the net always acted like the 'bullets' somehow flew further, when they used the exact same mechanism… Of course, that led to a much younger Tracy fiddling with overly strong spring modifications and causing some damage to the other kids across the street… She was pretty spiteful in her tween years, especially when other crotch goblins thought their expensive brand-name guns made them untouchable.

The mute markswoman gently nodded.

Rei returned around the same time, and the team discussed their winning strategy of 'everyone on offense and have Cera snipe anyone coming for the flag' further, laughing over some stupid moments that occurred. Overall, the fact that their team managed to win over the trained strike team, the coordinated miners, and the agile fishers was awesome. There was more than just a skip in her step when she returned to the outside of the mess hall to see Harrison.

Tracy had stolen glances at him before, entranced by his form-fitting toga and the way it showed off his arms. The two girls surrounding him and the drink in his hand were a different story… She didn't really care about either, actually pondering how she could maybe get the ball rolling if he wasn't so uptight. He was already laughing and talking louder than she'd ever heard before; she just wished she was there laughing with him.

Her team split off with farewells and plans on meeting up later to talk more. The technician liked them a lot, so of course she agreed. She approached Harrison with mounting excitement, finally able to talk to him after what felt like hours.

Talos and Rei tagged along, the younger of the two biding her time until she could scamper off and play more 'MechBattler 11.' Tracy couldn't blame her. These kinds of half-fancy parties weren't her thing either.

Drinking a twenty-four pack of cheap beer, order-out food, fixing up old terrestrial cars, and maybe some split-screen gaming; well, that is an evening. A small get-together like that could only be made better by interweaving some high-energy activities between a one-on-one high stakes video game deathmatch.

A distraction here. A palm placed on a thigh there. Something to spark a heated mouth-to-mouth match on the side. She wouldn't even notice the room getting hotter. Even better if it was the kind of diversion that took the smarts from her brains and put heat between her hips with each purposeful loss, forcing her further and further into the whims of an engineer that would be all too happy to make use of her…

Tracy cleared her throat, despite not even speaking to anyone yet. Recent events dug up a lot of pent-up fantasies she held onto for way too long. It really didn't help that those kinds of things didn't have to stay in her daydreams, not with how close she was.

All the more reason to tie the knot and pull him in tonight.

She strode closer to him, trailing a line of heaters on the way and picking up on his conversation. There was an openness to his speech that she had never heard before. He wasn't slurring his words in the slightest, but the looseness of his expressions as he spoke with the two massive Malkrin on each side of him… Yeah, that was induced by the empty cup in his hands and the two empty bottles behind himself.

"…and she actually went on vacation while I still had two-weeks left in orbit. Can you believe that? Somehow, I stayed with her for another two months after she was off doing God-knows-what." Harrison blew out a stream of air like smoke in the colder night. "'Stayed with her.' She left me. Pretty sure it was for a guy she met back on that vacation."

The black-skinned Malkrin, who had an arm around his shoulders, recoiled in shock. "You mean to say a female left you? Was she dropped on her frills when she was younger? How could a wretched bottom-feeder be allowed to even think of such? Never mind that, she clearly never deserved you in the first place!"

"You know, that's what I tell myself…" His eyes locked with Tracy's, his tired frown flipping right around. "Oh, Trace! Hey!"

"Hey yourself," she responded, closing the distance to him. "Whatcha talking about?"

Harrison poked the red-skinned tail lingering around the side of his waist with a thumb, the limb originating from the other Malkrin burying him in alien muscle. "We were watching your team kick ass and Fisherwoman here asked me if I had any past relationships."

Tracy smirked. "So you brought up bitch-face Chelsea?"

He clicked his tongue and shot finger guns. "Ayup. Anyway, you had an awesome game. The gathering squad was pretty damn close, though."

"A shame. I was rooting for our sisters," the red-skinned female admitted, confirming the technician's faint idea that she was a fisherwoman.

Tracy shrugged. "I'm just pumped that our plans worked out so well. So, how about the post-game celebration?"

"The fireworks? Just waiting for Shar to be off her patrol. Do ya wanna wait with me?" Harrison paused, taking in his seating situation. The only open seats were on the bench across the table or past the massive females. Any conversation while sitting down would be a pain. "I would offer you a seat, but…"

"Artificer Tracy, Rei and I shall be leaving," Talos abruptly called out from behind, barely giving the technician any time to respond before a whip of force sent her face-first into Harrison.

Tracy held onto the man's chest, barely managing to turn her head around with a bewildered yet slighted annoyance, when the engineer's arms had quickly latched onto the tradeswoman, preventing her from slipping onto the ground.

The mech pilot simply winked back at her. "We will see you soon."

The juvenile Malkrin looked confused as she was ushered into the mess hall. A sudden stint of silence gave Tracy all the time she needed to realize what her favorite wing-woman had just done. All of that instant irritation flowed right out of her, leaving her with a racing heart and a quick decision to make.

"Sooo… is this seat open?" she asked with a nervous chuckle, staring up at the engineer.

His grip momentarily tightened over her arm and waist, his mouth ajar as his brain took an extended period of time to take in her question. "I, uhh…"

She playfully squinted at him, the pace of his heartbeat against her palm channeling her confidence. The heat of his hands on her skin only accentuated it, flushing his face even further. "Oh come on, this wouldn't be the first time."

"No, no, it's… fine. I actually needed something a little warmer than the heater. These two are pretty cold, actually." He looked between the two giantesses. "No offense."

Tracy didn't get a moment to make a snarky joke as his sturdy hands gripped her waist and fully pulled her up onto his lap, her back pressed to his chest, feeling every relaxed breath and excited pulse of his heart. His cheek pressed up against her temple in a soft tightness, just the same as his arms wrapped around her stomach. They were cold but invited a swirling warmth right beneath her skin. She even felt something rather long and hard… but it was unfortunately on his waist: his revolver, to her disappointment.

"Comfortable?" he asked quietly, his smooth voice sending an enticing shock down her spine.

She was left to easily melt right into him, but found herself caught in a wave of embarrassment, her emotions all over the place at how she was being held. She struggled to hold onto every smidgen of confidence she had, left in a limbo of pushing her luck further and letting him take control of her. It was impossible for her to know what to do with her arms, much less answer him!

"G-Good… I-I mean yeah," she mumbled.

A few heavy breaths helped her to calm down and appreciate her success. She quickly reveled in how easy this was; he would've never let her just ask and accept it before! It got her thinking, the subtle scent of rum on his breath confirming it.

People called alcohol liquid courage because it took away the user's inhibitions. Without them, outside of being too drunk, they were free to express their desires.

Tracy smiled, looking at the slightly-disgruntled fisherwoman beside her. The technician didn't have to worry about the two Malkrin making their moves on him.

He already had someone in mind.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

= = = = =

The shields-woman stopped in place on her fourth rotation around the domiciles, watching as a beautiful streak of orange light soared up into the air from the western wall. It exploded at its zenith with a resounding 'CRACK.'

Specks of red and green shot out from the detonation, beautifully sparking and shining like the stars themselves. Their enchanting aura hung in the air and slowly fizzled away.

Her breath was taken clean out of her lungs. Her Browning machine gun fell out of her hands, held taut by the sling around her shoulder. She could not take her eyes off the display, her jaw dropping as a second blast drenched the buildings in a blue hue.

The gods themselves sprinkled stardust amongst the settlement's grounds. By the Mountain's divine height, they had been chosen to be the next era of Malkrinkind.

"They are even more breathtaking in person," Javelin commented from behind her.

The shields-woman turned her head. Her captain bore wide, dilated eyes in an expression of complete awe, continuing unprompted."May the Mountain Lord bless Artificer Tracy."

"What do you mean?" The bulkier female tilted her head.

"The summer festival fireworks, I have seen them in star-sent anime. My kimono is even derived from one."

"So that is what you are wearing?"

"Indeed."

They stood in silence for several minutes as the array of colorful sparkles lit up the night in ways the shields-woman had never seen before, ethereal and untouchable. Every ignition brought a swirling awe and confidence in her chest.

Stripped away from her town, starved on a boat for days, terrified of unknown lands… It was almost as if all her struggles and fears culminated to this point. She gave herself into the hope provided by an unknown oath-breaker paladin and the deity-sents she guarded. All those hours of exhausting training, forging unbreakable bonds with once-strangers, and grand battles of legend… It was surreal.

This is what she would fight for. A shield for the most fantastical group of individuals was to be her purpose until her last breath, be it on the battlefield or with her loved ones.

It was only when the final explosion of a glorious purple, did the fireworks stop. It was gorgeous.

A soft pressure poked into her chest. She looked down to find a thermos pressed there.

Javelin smiled as the bulky female took the warm receptacle. "I had forgotten my purpose when I saw the fireworks, forgive me. The Creator requested I give you hot tea for your patrols, so I came to find you and the others."

The shields-woman, still frozen in awe and appreciation, felt the final weight crumble her senses. Her eyes watered, her head wracked in a sudden burst of gratefulness. "…Thank you"

The drink within her hands was as hot as the fire by the barracks. A fire she spent hours eating, talking, and cleaning her weapon by.

It was home.

= = = = =

The night was ending soon, and Shar'khee hated it.

She had reveled in Harrison's entranced stare throughout her domination of the games. She took smug enjoyment in taking her rightful place beside him when others tried to poach his attention. She smiled while he was in her grasp, feeling his heart flutter in tune with hers during the fireworks show.

But now it felt as if her opportunities to strike were drawing to a close. There was only a feast and merry-making left, and she knew not how long the former would be, nor how to properly 'make merry.' Was she meant to impress Harrison by simply being joyful? It was nothing like the games, that was for certain. Her new tactics would have to be… off the cuff.

Shar'khee held the mess hall door open, allowing Harrison to enter… and Tracy. The paladin elected not to comment on the Artificer's position within the Creator's arms when she returned from her patrol, nor the insignificant gatherers on both sides of him. She simply ignored it all and asked him to watch the fireworks with her. To that, he agreed readily, enjoying the post-games reprieve as much as she did. A victory she needed to use as the foundation for what was next to come.

The heat of the domicile was heavenly, wafts of various sweet and salty foods coursing through her nostrils. It let loose a torrent of saliva through her maw and a deep-seated hunger in her stomach. The last time she ate was at lunch, which felt like days ago at that point. Not to mention it was late in the evening and after how much energy she expended prior.

Her post-blood-moon slumber was not as long as she would have liked, meaning she would need to make up for much of it tonight, and the best sleep she could hope for required the Goddess' chosen in her arms. Such was all but confirmed, only a singular issue attempting to wedge its way into her trial's progression.

The Artificer nudged her shoulder into Harrison's side, pointing toward a table with all four mech pilots conversing. "Hey, let's grab a seat over there."

For the tiny female to believe she could have the Creator all to herself was the height of selfishness… Shar'khee wiped away a building scowl and wore a smile, tugging on Harrison's arm with the tip of her tail. "Would you prefer to sit with my squad, dearest?"

Tracy looked up at the paladin with a staggered expression, her brows furrowed in vexation as she pointedly whispered. "Oh, get fucking real. No way you're gonna pull this shit again."

Harrison cleared his throat, slipping out of her tail's grasp and preemptively checking his shoulder for any damage. His vocalizations were different whilst inebriated, slipping into an 'accent' like that of his 'Southern Martian' music. "Yeah, actually, I's asked to sit with Cera and Oliver earlier."

Behind the slightly tipsy and glossiness of his eyes, there was a warm hope as he looked up at the maroon-skinned female. "I'd really like it if ya both ate with me, but if ya wanna sit with your groups, I'm happy to see it."

Shar'khee's tail sequestered its way back to her after the reminder of her mistake at the last celebration. But she would not let that shame prevent her advances. "I am sure my squad would not mind if I were to stay with you for the night's closure."

"…Same," the Artificer agreed with another annoyed look.

"Nice," Harrison acquiescently responded, looking out to a table by the kitchen, where the mated pair sat happily. "Oh, and I think Akula and Chef will be with us too. The guy wants to show off some of the recipes I gave him, if y'all don't mind."

"The fish-licker?" "Green bitch?" the paladin and Tracy responded in tandem, sharing eye contact for a moment.

He held his hands up, placatingly. "Again, it ain't imperative that you sit with me. I like seein' y'all interact between your groups. I just haven't had liver pâté in a while, not to mention the fact I've never tried hyena-boar or alien fish pâté."

"Oh, you won't be shaking me off that easily," Tracy asserted, squinting at the Creator with a grin.

Harrison took that as an acceptance, looking to Shar, who nodded in confirmation. He shrugged, making his way to the table and leaving the two females to follow.

Cera and her Oliver, who sat on the former's lap, lit up with smiles when they noticed the group of three approaching. The small male waved with two hands, a bit excessively, in Shar'khee's opinion. The voluminous sleeves of his dress accidentally brushed up against the markswoman's face. There was an open, half-full bottle and a cup already laid out on the table in front of them.

Oliver eagerly spoke up for his mate as the paladin took a seat. "Greetings! How are you three? Are you exhausted from the games yet?"

"Rather swell, but I could go for another round of sparring," Shar'khee toted, light-heartedly staring at Cera. The ceramist must have been training herself a lot for melee peer-to-peer battles because the paladin still had yet to find an excuse for how she had been defeated so swiftly. Perhaps Harrison had specifically taught her in such ways, predicting the inquisition's assassination attempt? It was mind-boggling how a glassblower could be so deft in her skills…

The black-skinned markswoman smiled back but gently shook her head, squeezing Oliver closer.

Harrison chuffed out of his nose in amusement. "Speak for yourself, Shar. I haven't done anything, but the lack of caffeine and sleep is catching up with me."

"There's absolutely no way you're going to sleep before the dance. You promised me one fifteen minutes ago," Tracy scoffed from the opposite side of the Creator, forced to sit on her shins to get her arms atop the table.

"Dance?" Shar'khee asked tersely and anxiously, reluctant to tilt her head and show meekness. She was not aware that such was on the table as the final act of the night. That must be the 'merry making.'

The Artificer incredulously raised a brow, leaning forward to look around Harrison. "Uhm… the dance? Like, moving around to music? Talos was telling me about it, so I assumed dancing was a common thing."

The paladin did not know how to dance. She never bothered to. There was never a point in staying to make merry with the others; she was not hunting for a mate then! Now here, she was on the back foot, unarmed in the field of claiming her love.

Shar'khee nervously pursed her lips, but kept a poised glare on Tracy. "I am aware of what dancing is, yes. I was simply not aware we would be dancing this evening."

"Figured it'd be a part of 'merry making,'" Harrison admitted with a shrug. "We already have a big open space in the center of the mess hall from the games, so it'd make perfect sense to."

"I see…"

Oliver took the brief silence to pour himself another cup of rum, looking to Harrison afterward with a fourth of the fire-decorated bottle left. "Would you care to take upon the rest of the bottle?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, for sure." The Creator looked around, missing something. "…If I had my cup with me."

"You thermos of glowberry juice? Here, I thought you might have left it behind." Shar'khee produced the item he was searching for.

Harrison took it and squeezed the back of her hand. "Aww, thanks Shar. I appreciate it."

'Aww'? The paladin felt her face flush and her tail sway, the wide motions subtly rocking her waist into the male, making for a perfect excuse to inch closer along the bench. Goddess, his warmth was immaculate…

Her male mixed the last of his glowberry juice and some of the remaining alcohol, leaving the rest for a greedy Artificer, who snatched the bottle with both hands. Whereas the Creator sipped his newly mixed drink, Tracy slonked her portion down in a moment.

"Jesus Christ, Trace, trying to speedrun alcohol poisoning?" Harrison questioned with a chuckle.

Shar'khee could not see the small female's expression, as she was behind the male star-sent, but her response oozed a devious smile. "Nuh uh, I'm just catching up."

He shook his head. "I'm barely buzzed."

"We'll see about that."

Motion from behind the kitchen counter nearby took Shar'khee's attention. The final platters of food were finished and placed atop the room divider, five course meals for each of the settlers. Usually, the food would be divvied out over the games as it was produced, but the meals Chef wished to prepare, the position of the different games compared to the kitchen, and the frigid night required a sacrifice of such a tradition. Tonight's holiday was more streamlined compared to the 'do what you please for the evening' style her island village had enjoyed prior.

There was nothing to complain over, however. Her patience for the Malkrin and Star-sent meal would be rewarded.

The chef took his apron off and rang a dinner bell, summoning the starving troops to the counter whilst bringing out a few meals in his hands. Akula followed behind him, holding onto three meals and a bottle of rum, with a dumb smile drawn out along her maw.

A wondrous scent filled the air as the pair sauntered to the table, offering greetings as they passed out the overflowing trays of smoked fish pâté, various mashed fruit sauces over fried fish, sausages, baked vegetables, and all manner of various-colored side dishes. The smells sent the paladin into shock, her stomach contracting painfully as it begged to be sated by the glorious meal in front of her.

The dark green-skinned overseer placed the bottle of rum and passed out napkins and water canisters, speaking in a posh manner, barely noting Shar'khee's scowl. "Now, before we eat, Chef would like to describe the prepared foods and recommend their consumption order to maximize their taste paletes,"

The paladin stifled a groan of petulance, her talons digging into the table as the foods were monotonously prattled on about. She could not pay attention to the male for the life of her, her eyes entranced by the steaming foods right below her mouth.

Balancing her stomach's pains and preventing liquid starvation from drooling out of her parted maws was torture like no other. The seconds ticked on like days, continuing endlessly as if the chef were purposefully teasing her!

"…finish off with the diced fruits. With my recommendations, please enjoy!" the pink-skinned male touted.

Release. Reprieve. Relief.

Shar'khee's entire existence was a blur at that moment, the crux of her purpose smeared and wiped free so that she might sate the ceaseless hunger within. She barely tasted the food at the speed at which she devoured her meal, only pausing momentarily to hear Harrison's lovely laughter, of course. It mattered not who it was directed at; she was eating, and he was joyous. What could be finer?

And then it was over, leaving an empty plate, licked completely clean. She did not leave a single bone nor drop of sauce unconsumed. Her male tried to use a napkin to clean her face, laughing all the while, but she was swift to lick any remnant left upon her snout before it could be wasted.

The paladin did eventually allow him to dab some of the remaining moisture off her lips, despite it being unnecessary. Any act of care or physical contact he offered, that did not threaten her food-eating, would always be accepted.

Others were barely into their second course by that point. So, she sat tight and engaged in conversation with the others as they ate. Akula and Chef barely interacted, with the overseer doting and feeding her soon-to-be mate. It was unlike the cold female, but at least she did not harp upon Shar'khee's hunger.

The paladin turned her attention back to Harrison, wishing she had saved some of her food for him to try with her very own spoon. Consequently, it would end up that the Creator noticed her internal turmoil and correctly assumed she was still hungry, offering parts of his own meal for her. It was not why she stared at him, but she certainly did not complain.

A flow of utensils clacking filled the air as meals were consumed. Various stray words of intent crossed the sea of conversations happening over the various groups for minutes on end. It was peaceful. She may not have participated much in the discussion of her own table, but she liked to listen in. Oliver could not help but to occasionally profess his appreciation and loyalty to those around him, while Harrison discussed various topics she had never thought to bring up before—his studies as a younger star-sent, various others he used to be acquainted with, and so forth.

The Creator certainly knew a lot of intelligent people… and just the same number of foolish individuals. How could someone be in the same 'major' as Harrison yet somehow not understand basic liquid dynamics? Even Shar'khee knew such, and all she had done was patiently listen to him! Thankfully, her male was swift enough to rectify his final project's shortcomings, no thanks to the ever-ignorant Richard.

Their conversation only lasted for so long as Cera spotted something amongst the crowd behind the paladin. She gestured to where the gathering squad's table was, where the male medic was currently being turned into mush between Vodny and Morskoy's tails. The females' hands were occupied by black cloth adorned with rings of metal.

"A mate proposal!" Oliver stated excitedly. "I knew we were bound to see at least one this evening!"

Shar'khee watched with awe and a subtle jealousy as the newly-found couple held one another. Morskoy held onto her male's arms and waist with every available limb, whilst her twin sister held onto him from behind, their tails interlinked. The group of three swung side to side in a mirth that the paladin suddenly begged to have for herself.

The harvesters, sitting across the open central area, stood up and raised their half-drunk bottles in a toast to the celebration, letting out a chorus of pleased growls. Their roar spread amongst those across the room, coercing even Harrison to stand and raise his glass. Assertive females took the last of the available males to the dance floor by their hands, forcing others to follow behind in hopes of stealing their own chances.

Harrison turned to Chef, a smirk on his face and a light-hearted urgency in his voice. "Chef, hand Trace the aux, they're out there dancing to nothin'!"

The pink-skinned male quickly scrambled out of his seat and to the counter, where he picked up a simplistic data pad for playing music. Tracy quickly followed behind, picking up the device and tapping away at it. The Artificer pursed her lips in thought, taking enough time to choose her music for Chef to be grabbed by the waist and pulled into the mass of settlers, twisted into a dance by the love-addled overseer.

A lingering anxiousness reclaimed its place along Shar'khee's frills as moderately-paced 'rock' music began to play, encouraging more and more settlers to filter their way to the central floor. She was left at her table, watching other females look Harrison's way, certainly thinking of taking his hand in a dance.

"Shar'khee, do you know how to dance?" Oliver asked from his spot atop Cera's lap. His head was tilted in interest, his ears pointing straight up.

She felt Harrison's heartbeat shoot up, his breath hitching. The Creator's brows were furrowed, and his tone was suddenly aloof. "Why're you asking her that?"

The craftsman recoiled. A worried look crossed his visage. "I-I had only meant to ask if she was interested in participating."

The Creator continued his pressure coldly. "We're ya looking to dance with her?"

"N-No… Not unless she wished to…?" Oliver worriedly returned. His mate raised a brow, holding him a little tighter.

Harrison looked at the paladin, a glint of hope in his eyes counteracting the distressed crinkle of his nose. What for, she did not know.

Shar'khee anxiously nibbled on her tongue, trying not to clack her talons together. "I… I actually do not know how to dance. F-Forgive me."

The Creator briefly sighed, briefly glaring at Oliver before the friendliness returned to his voice. "That's no problem. Shar, did ya wanna learn how to dance?"

"With… you?" She stiffened, her tail held up in a sudden ignition of her heart.

"Nah nah, I'm just gonna have Trace teach ya…" His face was deadpan for a mere second before a wide smile cut through it. "…Yeah, of course me!"

"Oh!" Her teeth were bare for the world to see, her lips incapable of holding back her own mirth. Even her tail flicked back and forth with the same energy. "Then shall we? Right now?"

He downed his glass of rum and flung his legs over the seating bench to stand up, holding his hand out for her. She turned around in her seat, taking his small, offered palm and tenderly squeezing it, feeling its warmth sink into her own.

"Where are you going?" Tracy asked from her spot by the counter's data pad, distraught with her words despite the firm expressions she wore.

Harrison gestured to the paladin. "Shar's never learned how to dance, so Imma show her how."

The Artificer's mouth was agape with an unsubtle frown. "You promised we'd dance earlier…"

"Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time to dance, I didn't forget about my promise. I just need to show Shar the ropes first so she can enjoy the night."

"But you…" Tracy faltered, softly nodding. "Okay… Just come get me when you're done, yeah?"

He gave her a thumbs up. "Sure thing!"

With that, Harrison pulled on the paladin's hand, leading her to the mass of Malkrin on the dance floor. She felt dazed, unsure of each lagging footstep. Everything she ever wanted laid right upon her talon tips. This was her best opportunity. The closeness, the tension, and the promise of more were right here, but she was left to the whims of what happened next. How was she to impress Harrison if she was to be taught?

There was only one thing to do. The Creator was a phenomenal teacher. So, she would have to become his best student.

He pulled her to the outskirts of the settlers, who spun and jived with their tails. Some spears stopped and smiled at her, offering quiet words of approval, while others stared at Harrison.

"Alright," Harrison spoke up, stealing her attention with a squeeze of her hand. "I guess since it's the two of us, I can teach ya how to dance as a couple and then sprinkle in a few solo moves."

A couple? Shar'khee nodded firmly. His words were her orders as always, but now, it was on a different field of Battle.

One she was intent on asserting herself as the victor.

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