idolpro | Shrike's Heart (#4)

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!heart games

Shrike's Heart (#4)

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

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[ You take down the sword, hod it in your hands, and it feels powerful. Good.

This is your power, to enact your vision of what the world should be. ]

[ Her first reaction is honestly just: nice. 👌👌👌
She extends the sword, testing its weight, flipping it a few times in her grip to get a feel for its motion.

It takes a few moments longer to connect the feeling of power back to the initial feeling of unease—and that is when she pauses. The sword is still in her hand, but now she looks at it with unease. ]

[ there's something unsettling, too, about the way light glints off of it. like it's coming from the wrong angle, or something; like you could see someone's face for just a split second reflected in it—

and then there's a sharp woman's voice. ]

Is that who you think you are?

[ ...you don't know this is her sword, but it's definitely her sword, and she looks mad. What do you do? ]

[ She turns around to face the source of the voice, expression even. ]

If you mean "a woman who can appreciate a well-forged blade," then yes, it certainly is.

[ setting it down gently on a table, since she can't exactly reach the original mounting without looking pretty absurd in the process ]

And I can assure you I meant no offense. [ not that she's... actually bowing or anything ]
I am glad to meet you at last, mother of the woman I know as Shrike—for all that the circumstances are unusual.

[ her gaze is still steely, but... slightly disarmed. ]

If you cannot put it back where you found it, then at least give it to me. There are nuisances about, though I know no Shrike. My first and only daughter is K͍̅̀e̠s̖͖̰͓͈͎ͩ͘t̐͢ȑ̌͏̳̺e͔̩̼̤̮̤̠̅̓ͥ̆̅̑l̲̭̼̣̮̭̈̑ͥ͠ͅ ̣̦̣̳͕̠̳Sͩͪͧ̿̍t͎̺̣͓͇͘r̋ͣͦ̀i̴̺̗̣̯̺͚̓͌̆ͬ̈́k̥̪̣͖̳͓͋̈́͂ͮ̓̕e̠ͨ̃͒̆̀͊͊s̲͇̞̝̑̈́͊̂̑̿̋ ̪͍͗͑̽ͩͯ̄̚͝a͔̙̭͈̰͟ṯ̘̼͍̑͂ ̩͕͙̰̳͉̂̏ͪ̒̄̾̌T͔͚̉͗̀̿ẅ͈̣̩ͦ͡i̧͚͌̓ͅl̗̩̙̹̐ͮ̍̅͐ͣi̶̭͉͙͊̽̇͐g̰ͤ͒ͩ͗ͮh̵͉̼̱ṱ̷̻͎͕̮͚̏ͤ͋ͮ̀͌ͭ.

[ Her brows furrow a moment at the strange static of the name, but... well, it's not like she doesn't know why that's happening. ]

I met her in a place where our names were stolen from us, but you are without question the mother of the woman I know.

[ She picks the sword back up from the table, and flips it easily with one hand to pass it back to Shrike's mother, hilt-first.
Then, finally, she bows—just low enough to be respectful without ceding her own authority. ]

I am General Amakura, of Tsubaki Province.

[ the woman takes the sword, though she does not sheathe it at her belt; instead keeping it in her right hand. ]

General Amakura, of Tsubaki Province... what reason would you have to be interested in my daughter?

You don't think someone that powerful and noble could ever be impressed by your daughter? Of course you don't.

[Griffin strides in, eyeing the sword and its wielder angrily.]

You never saw her value. All you ever saw was the shadow of your own legacy, not a person.

Gri— Tsuba. [ very slightly chiding ]
I'm glad we've met up once more, but there's no need to take offense, here.

[ turning back to Other Mom ] At least not yet.

[ frank ] Shrike caught my attention quickly, as is natural for someone of her talent.

But when I first met her, she was timid and ashamed of her power—only using a fraction of her potential. I was interested in seeing what she could do if she stopped acting as though her very presence required apology. As it turns out, the answer is: she can do a great deal. But surely this does not surprise you.

[ she scoffs, and blatantly ignores Griffin, in a way that would read as... vaguely sexist, if the genders were different. ]

None of it surprises. She’s my daughter, after all; that she has that strength is no surprise. Where she got the unwillingness to use it is beyond me, but as you’ve seen, that can be rectified as well.

I brought this family to prominence on my own, and I won’t have it torn down for weakness.

Is this boy yours?

[Despite being flustered from Amaranth's chiding, Griffin quickly regains composure via petty spite and shoots her a dirty look. Is barely holding back the urge to flip her off.]

'Beyond you' is right...

[ a glance at Griffin—a hint of sympathy in her eyes, though her posture is still perfectly straight-backed... and she is, admittedly, totally at ease in this atmosphere.
welcome to Creation's gender roles, kid. ]

Tsuba is an ally, and a formidable warrior in his own right. Indeed, he may claim no small part of the credit for Shrike's improvement.

But I think you know as well as I that weakness was never a risk for your household. The wound was to Shrike's spirit, not her skill.

[ it's a Totally Neutral Comment that is of course by no means a direct criticism, ]

[ "by no means a direct criticism" hmmm sounds fake and while all this sounds, uh, positive, the tone........ does not. ]

Strength of skill means nothing without strength of will, and vice-versa. If you speak truly, then I suppose I'll finally have time to turn my mind to other affairs requiring my attention.

If you've disabused her of that softness then you have my thanks.

[Amaranth please all he wants in life is to give this lady the middle finger]

That 'softness' ain't a weakness.

[ that's not proper parent-teacher conference conduct!!

with deliberate patience: ]
Indeed, Shrike's compassion keeps her honorable, just, and a worthy leader.
It was only a source of weakness when it made her afraid to act.

You should rightly be proud of her.

...

...and on whose behalf does she act, now?

Her family. Her loved ones. Herself.

[ they’re good causes, brent.
she gestures Tsuba’s direction with a nod of agreement. ]

Yes.
—Though if you’d like a more specific answer... [ right, they’re probably being broadcast SOMEHOW ] ...she has also committed her skill to the direct protection of all those in our city in the midst of Malfeas.

Hmph. Does this far-fetched sounding city, this "family" require so much care that she leaves aside her duties to her true home, and her true family?

Your true home's one that you choose, not one that has you on a leash all your life.

He has a point.

[ hot takes in this part of the Hundred Kingdoms tbh ]

But there is no need for it to be one or the other. She is fighting to return that she might use her skills in Creation as well. I have utter faith in her ability to do so—and my esteem is, I suspect, as difficult to earn as your own.

[ she raises an eyebrow. ]

Yet, you are strangers. What have I but your word on this? And, furthermore, where is she? Where was she when this place fell? Where was she?

[ the thud of boots on the road outside grows louder; drums, among with them. there’s a smell of smoke growing stronger. the woman hunches over slightly, crossing an arm across her waist, a bitter expression on her face. ]

[At this, the hardness in Griffin's face falters. He glances at Amaranth, unsure how to respond. For all of the anxiety and discomfort this home instilled, it was still undeniably the place that bore her.]

[ a glance towards the windows, and then back at Griffin; there's a brief moment where her eyes widen before her expression goes focused ]

It's true: you have nothing but our word.
And we do not know what happened, either.

But she was a Talon Commander. If this place fell...

[

... ]

Let us prove the worth of our word. [ voice low ] If they are coming again, we will fight.
... As she must have, too.

There's no time.

What I fought for, what I built, what I gave them... what did it all mean, in the end?

[ she steps forward, but it's a lurching, staggering motion; she catches herself on the back of a chair.

the air feels... odd. wrong. stale and still. ]

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