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pick your exalt - no that's too many exalts put some back
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She regains a little composure and bows. "How can this one serve you, my lady?"

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(Autumn stays hidden, blended with the shadows. She- doesn't like this, but... the Solar looks younger, somehow. Maybe it won't be as bad?)

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"Well... I was hoping for a more intimate sort of conversation. A debate in the square is all well and good, but it's not everything."

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Blush! "I was, ah - hoping to talk to you..."

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(no no no no no no no - )

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"Then it seems our desires align."

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"They certainly do."

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(THEY DON'T.)

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"Let's find somewhere suitably private, then."

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Why... is this happening...

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"Lead the way."

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No need to go too far... The back corner of that little garden should do well enough.

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Nice and private, a bit of a thrill... She giggles as the Solar pulls her back. 

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Of course, Elathea isn't the only one to worry about here - her mortal follower steps up beside the girl and asks, "What should I do to her, Mistress?"

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(She should stop.)

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"You take the left side, sweet Jade. I'll take the right."

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No, no. This has gone far enough, Autumn is stopping this now.

She steps out of the shadows, right hand trailing behind to draw forth her sword from the darkness-

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Nobody in the memory reacts to her. 

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Except - 

There's a girl, a student - looking directly at Autumn - 

"Hey!"

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Oh, what now-

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Good, the witch will see her death coming. Autumn lifts the sword high for a strike-

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Can the Solar not see the crazy lady with a sword - but something looks weird about the girl the two had cornered - she runs towards them like a mortal girl who thinks she's a street tough can take on invisible crazy ladies or misbehaving Solars or whatever the fuck is going on - 

"Move!"

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(And the wind starts screaming around them, in a way it shouldn't in this little courtyard, tearing at them, their world - )

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- And the wind blows over the highlands, whistles and moans through the gaps in the jagged mountains, and no city stands here because no city has been built -

And the wind is their orchestra now, defines the tempo of their dance.

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Except she's stopped dancing, graceful movements stilled as she looks around with an odd surprise on her face.

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