Rueing her limitations and deeming herself as a burden, Tempest Shadow shows little concern for her well being, as she prefers to strive alone. With Second Wind's assistance at redirecting her focus, the two were able to recover her crystal from the thief who pilfered it.
This small victory did not deter Tempest's views on her worth, but she’s beginning to open up to Wind. An indication of trust, but can it break through her clouded vision? Wind knows that bold choices will need to be faced for this to occur.
Perhaps this chance will occur as the two ponies attempt to catch up with Shining Armor and Flash Sentry.
Standing at the edge of the grassy cliff, Tempest Shadow and Second Wind find themselves in the same predicament their teammates went through and try to figure out a way to cross the steep and wide valley below them. Wind is fiddling with the panel of his metallic wing for something that could lower them safely into the valley, but he's searched through nearly his entire inventory, "I'm not finding anything that could be helpful, Tempest."
Tempest Shadow has been letting her eyes wander about, taking in the landscape as she drifts her sight until it catches something by her hoof. Steps back, observing a small white flower as it sways to the breeze, "A Shining Bird."
"Hmm?" Wind looks up into the empty sky, "...where?" he looks at Tempest and follows her gaze, "...the flower?"
"They're often sought after for their healing properties, so it's rare to find these in the wild."
The information leads Wind's mind to reflect back on the Ochu Stalks, recalling how Tempest identified those as well, "You seem to have an interest in plant life, Tempest. Are you into botany?"
"It's just something I once read about in a medical book."
"Medical!" Wind now begins to remember the conversation they had with The Ice Queen and how Tempest identified her autism, "So you have an interest in becoming a doctor!"
"No," she casually denies, "I often read a lot of books, mostly medical ones when I was a filly; but, I was never interested in becoming a doctor."
"Then what got you interested in reading about such a difficult subject?"
"I was hoping that I could... find something," Tempest gently lays a hoof on her broken horn.
Wind rubs the back of his neck, trying to find a way to handle the spot he dug too deep into, "...you know what, we should try to come up with something that can capture you!"
"Capture me?"
"Like when I lost my wing. When it was gone, I also lost the ability to fly, something that expresses what it means to be a pegasus. To me, it felt like a thrilling experience, something that got the heart pumping and dared me to face any challenge. I needed something to help me with recapturing that feeling again. Becoming a royal guard and having an adventure like the one we're on now is really helping with that feeling of flying. So I'm suggesting that we should find something similar for you!"
Tempest shifts her vision.
"Well? What do you think?"
"I think we found a way over the valley."
Tempest deflects the topic as she points towards a giant airship that's resting on the same plane they stand on. It's a stroll away, but the only option they seem to have at the moment.
"Let's ask if we could hitch a ride." Tempest makes her way towards the aircraft.
Leaving him to huff at her disregard for answering, Second Wind gallops up alongside Tempest and continues his attempt to motivate her, "Now let me think. If I recall correctly, unicorns tend to rely on their emotions to perform spells. So we need to focus on something that has a lot of emotion to it, like singing or writing poetry."
"I don't think I have it in me to be a poet, and singing... I can't open up my eyes to the idea."
"Well, I can think of one more option that could work, but..." he eyes Tempest, "...I'm having a tough time just fracturing the surface layer."
"..."
"...maybe we should try a different approach, one that addresses you more directly, a passion for something."
"Don't have one."
"There's that layer again," Wind miffs aloud, "...then let's start at square one and work our way from there to find out what thrills you. Tell me, what's your cutie mark?"
Tempest stops on a hoof with a stomp. She maintains her composure with a deep breath, "...this perusement is completely redundant. I don't need some kind of hobby to compensate for anything."
"You don't, huh?" a coy smile appears on him, "Then there shouldn't be any issue if I asked you to tell me the last time you had fun."
His request doesn't falter Tempest, but the mundane look in her expression tells that she's not inclined to reply.
"Something that felt exciting or made you want to toy around with. I'll even accept an incident that made you blush, just tell me a moment where you felt like you were alive."
"...the thoughts escape me," Tempest continues for the airship, a bit quicker than before.
With her decision made, Wind surrenders to her strong will with the rolling of his eyes, "Maybe it's a unicorn thing to act off of their emotions."
As they plant their hooves on the grass before the vessel, Tempest and Wind stare up at an airship that's not like the ones they're familiar with. While airships tend to use balloons to elevate and sails to traverse the sky, this ship uses four propellers to gain height and a few more propellers to soar through the air. It's bulky, short, and there's a sense of an aristocratic feel from the decorative design choices of towers and the giant dome that resides on what should be the main deck. The back of the ship had to be the oddest design choice as a large portion of it was missing, giving a balcony appearance that lacks any form of railing. The vessel itself is being supported by retractable keel blocks, designed in a way to level itself on a relatively flat plain. The landing gear is accompanied with an anchor system, having dropped with no real purpose in aiding the ship in any way, but it does allow one to sit on it, much like the creature they're seeing right now.
Blending with the fumes from the cigarette in her paw, a smoky-furred werewolf sits on a copper anchor that's laying flat on the ground. Wearing an attire that's a bit outdated, it matches her indolent demeanor as she observes the ponies approaching.
"I'll do the talking," Tempest whispers to Second Wind. She focuses on the werewolf that has yet to break out of her idle state, "It's a grand sight, this motor ship," small talks Tempest, "I don't recall ever encountering one that's landed in the wilderness like this. So what's the occasion?"
"We had an emergency landing," the werewolf taps the ash off her cigarette. "A giant explosion happened around here earlier. We were far away from it at the time, but the ship still got hit by the shockwave it made."
Tempest ponders on the occurrence, but quickly dismisses it, "Any chance that the ship will be flying soon?"
"Within the hour, I assume," she shifts her weight, "but you can kiss tonight's performance goodbye."
"Performance? What performance?"
"'I'm Captain Basch'. A lot of players got injured during the shockwave and won't be able to perform." She takes a whiff of her cigarette, blowing out her frustration with the smoke, "And after rushing all week over that stupid dress."
"That's... unfortunate..." Tempest replies, more confused than sympathetic, "...speaking about dresses, perhaps you should address the finer details. Who are you?"
"I'm Ashen, sole costume designer of The Atys Auditorium Actors."
Tempest looks up at the vessel, "So that makes this a..."
"A theater ship." Ashen finishes.
Second Wind flickers his eyes. He looks up at the theater ship and gazes back down at Tempest, focusing on her broken horn and begins to smirk.
Tempest shakes her head to get herself back on their goal, "Say, would it be possible for us to get a ride?"
"With many of us out of commission, I'm sure the director will allow it in exchange for labor."
"Nothing new to me," Tempest huffs, "so we'll take up the offer of being-"
"Actors!" The girls look at Wind's abrupt statement, "We volunteer ourselves to be actors for your director."
Tempest bares a look that's both shocked and irked, "What?"
"Oh, sorry," Wind clears his throat, "actor and actress."
Her face changes to betrayal.
"It might mean more work," Ashen finishes off the cigarette from the very thought of it, "but I could use a good laugh." smearing what's left of it on the anchor.
"Now hold o-"
"Get ready," Ashen grips the tether that’s connecting the anchor to the ship and wildly shakes it. She whisks up into the air as the tether begins to retract itself back up the ship, "Act fast now."
Tempest Shadow and Second Wind stare up in bewilderment at Ashen, but her words suddenly make sense as the anchor begins to lift up from the ground. Wind steps on one of the anchor's arms and steadies his balance, but Tempest hesitates to this fleeting chance. At the last second, she makes the split decision and jumps at one of the arms. She catches it in her forelegs and hangs from the retracting anchor.
With a little bit of swinging, Tempest gets herself on top of the arm. She attempts to stand up and is suddenly tossed upwards from the anchor's finished assent, only to now grab the ship's banister. Tempest pulls herself up halfway when Ashen and Wind provide assistance with the rest.
Now on deck, Tempest and Wind look up at the werewolf that's twice their height, "Come along."
The two ponies follow Ashen as she takes them through the ship, giving time for Tempest to vent her vexation at Wind, "Acting?! I was trying to become a stagehoof and do some heavy lifting... but acting?!?!"
"Yeah, acting is the perfect way that'll recapture the feeling of what it was like to be a unicorn for you."
"You're still on that!!" Tempest lashes with her gritting teeth, "Did it ever occur to you if I even wanted to act?"
"It did, but knowing my company, they'd view it to be too embarrassing to agree with."
Tempest remains silent for a moment, focusing on fighting against Wind's proud smile with her grumpy glare, "...let me throw some caution at you, Wind, ...I CAN'T ACT!"
"Nonsense," Wind waves at the idea, "everything about you practically screams that you were meant for the theater."
Sparks of magic begin to snap from her broken horn in anger.
"See! You're acting out right now." Wind nods at her expressing horn, "Your talent as an actress is overflowing."
Tempest holds in her breath, calming herself through this method, "...alright. If that's how it's going to be, then I'll play along and let you do all the talking from here."
"Really?! You're up for this?!"
"Yes. Because if you say that I'm so great at being an actress," she leers a grimful look at Wind, "then I should have no problem at giving the dullest audition imaginable."
After such a threatening promise to his ploy, Wind gives Tempest a brightful smile, "I'm happy to hear that you're giving this a chance."
"Faith!" Ashen's voice breaks the pony's conversation and snaps their attention to where they have been led. It's a moderate-sized room, cluttered with fallen objects both large and small along the walls that have yet to be returned back to their proper location before the ship's emergency landing. Fancy attires, dignified portraits, potted plants, housed wine bottles, if these materials weren't enough to give this room a ritzy appeal, then it was the detailed rug that they stand on. At the other side of the room, beyond the oil lamp that's lighting up the room from a table stand, are doors that are folded open with a figure rummaging through various chests and tossing out scripts, "Faith!!" Ashen yells louder at the figure, "I got a few extra bodies that want to help."
The figure straightens up, carrying one of the scripts as he approaches them in a waddling manner that befits his species, a penguin. He stands at the height that meets up with the ponies, though his attention is focused at the script he possesses as he starts to read. He flips through the first few pages with the oversized sleeves of his red garment. His eyes scan the words from behind the goggles he's bearing, suddenly stopping with disappointment on his face, "TIME TRAVEL!?!" he groans as he tosses the script aside, "Why do I even have that play? I hate sequels!"
"Well guess what you're about to receive, Faith," Ashen displays Tempest Shadow and Second Wind in a sarcastic tone, "more auditions."
Faith lifts a sleeve in defeat, "We need the help."
Ashen looks over to Wind as she passes by the pegasus, "He's the director. Take it away, hotshot." Ashen spins, laying her back against the wall to watch the events, "And, try to 'sell' your performance."
Second Wind steps forward, taking a deep breath with Faith's eyes on him, "Greetings, good sir," the flamboyant tone in Wind's voice is given an over-exaggerating bow with his wing, "we heard of your plight and wish to offer our services. I am Second Wind. My associate is Tempest Shadow. And we," he puffs out his chest with a dynamic pose from his good side, "are the greatest stage performers that have placed hoof on this land."
Faith keeps shifting his head between the two ponies before him.
"Should we display our talented performance?"
"Talented performance? You sound just like the rehire from this morning, and he's currently assigned as a stagehand."
Second Wind slumps over, feeling the weight of Ashen's snickering at him.
"As for your colleague," Faith notes the bland expression on Tempest, "I can be a bit of an idealist, but she doesn't look like she's fitted to be on stage. In fact," he sniffs in her direction, "...am I ...am I smelling tomatoes off her?"
"That just shows how committed she is," Wind hastefully diverts the suspicion through improv. "You see, she's a method actress, living the part of her role in her everyday life to fully understand the essence of what makes her character so unique."
"Oh?" Faith plays along, "And just what part is she currently playing?"
"The Tsundere! The role of a cold and hostile lady that guises the warm and sweet nature she carries in her heart."
Tempest fights from expressing a peeved look as Faith studies her.
"But don't just take my word, let her show you just how skilled she is! Tempest, give us some of your fine acting."
Tempest narrows her glare directly at Wind, humphing at him for thinking that she'll cooperate. She only comments on his foolish thinking, "...idiot."
"BEAUTIFUL! Don't lose that motivation!"
She winces at the motivator.
Faith lays the end of his garment's sleeve against his mouth, sizing up Tempest with a thought in mind, "...you know, I've been meaning to try a certain play for quite some time now," he points at the unicorn, "and I think you'd be perfect for the lead."
The scowl on Tempest shatters as she nearly falls over in shock. She lays her hoof over her face, "Please, let me be wrong this time... what?"
"Yep-yep," with enthusiasm building from the idea, Faith heads over to a pile of scripts, "you're going to be the central star in our next play!"
Tempest moans into her hoof for hearing right while scripts are being tossed aside from Faith as he digs through the pile.
Wind reads the script titles as they fly by; 'To Tame a Lion's Heart', 'The Guardian of my Dreams', 'Dragon and the Sea'. He turns to the director, "You seem to have a lot of plays dedicated to romance."
"I find that the audience loves a good romance."
"That mushy stuff is what'll get creatures these days?"
"These days?" Faith chortles, "One of my earliest works pretty much started a genre centered around romance. The audience just loves to pair up two creatures together into a romantic relationship. They pretty much do it instinctively, often yearning for it to happen, so I tend to have a character declare their love near the end to win the crowd's praise. It helps in a pinch, but this time, this time I want to try something different," he lifts up a script titled, 'The Sword is My Neighbour', "I made this play a while ago and I've been waiting for the right time to perform it, and your 'idol' would fit the part of the lead perfectly without changing her 'method acting'."
"That's wonderful!" Wind beams with joy, "Right, Tempest?"
"Every word..." Tempest rubs her forehead to soothe the migraine, "It gets worse with every word of his...."
Faith flips through the script, making marks on the pages as he does, "We'll have to cut out a lot of scenes with the given bodies available, but it should be good enough for tonight's performance."
Tempest's ears perk up, "Tonight!? But It's mid day. No one will be ready by then."
"That's what theater is all about," Faith dismays the attempt at shooting down the performance, "it's not a simple reenactment that'll always be the same with each showing, it's an ever changing creature that breathes life as it lives for the moment, so we need to think fast and move accordingly to survive with it. Even the moral can change as forty percent of plays are by the script with the other sixty being improvisation, just like how you two are improvising by making yourself out to be actors as a means to get a free ride on this ship."
Second Wind feels that weight again, "It was that obvious?"
"I deal with performers all the time. I know an act when I see one."
"And it never gets old from seeing them try," Ashen chimes in with a satisfied look on her face.
"Life is a story, we need to adjust to the events that take us by surprise if we have any hope of seeing a happily ever after. So with that said," Faith looks between Tempest and Wind, "will you two be performing an encore for tonight, or am I currently witnessing your last performance?"
For the rest of the day, as they traveled by airship, Tempest Shadow and Second Wind prepared themselves for the play by reading and rehearsing through the script. The play will be a short one comprising two acts with a fifteen intermission break between them. The two of them managed to memorize the first half upon sundown, but with time against them, they had to use the remaining moments to prepare for their appearance and decided to read the rest of the play as they’re getting ready in the costume room.
Second Wind flicks the play's script in his wing, "'And so, as the two make their run from the garden, the knave gets pierced by an arrow from one of the guards, ending his life. The princess mourns over him and blames herself for bringing this because of her desire for escape. With the castle guards approaching to condemn her to a life she can't abide towards and the loss of the only one that could understand her plight, she picks up the knave's sword and takes her life, staying true to her beliefs that a shackled life with no promising hope, is no more than a doll that's waiting for death.'" Wind lowers his wing, "it's quite unorthodoxing that this was written by someone named, 'Faith'."
Behind the room's folding curtain, Tempest endures Ashen's pestering, patting her down and making needed adjustments to the costume she's wearing, "It doesn't sound very moving, either."
"Plays are heavily dependent on their performers to get any kind of emotion out of them," Ashen pierces a needle into Tempest's attire. "If you want to capture the audience, you'll need actors who're committed to the role."
"I'm going through this, aren't I?" Tempest notes.
"I'm talking about syncing with the part you're playing. Some of the best kinds of actors are ones that place everything into their performance; up to the point where their health could be at risk."
"Method acting indeed."
"One such example was when someone got hospitalized after trying to make 'em laugh. Another was some buster that broke his neck from a stunt he did and walked it off; the guy didn't even know that he broke it for thirty years. Even this troupe has done daring performances with the usage of status effects."
"Status effects?"
"Things like poison, paralysis, petrification. The state fades over time, most of the time, but we don't do it very often due to how pricy spells can be these days." Ashen claps her paws, "Okay, you're all set. Your mask is over there and your finalized dress will be done by intermission. Now," she shuts the blinds and points a finger at Wind, "you. We hardly have any costumes for quadrupeds, so we need to get creative. Let's see..."
Ashen skips away, leaving Second Wind to admire her work through Tempest's appearance. Swaying near her hind hooves and up to the crystal around her neck, Tempest wears a light-lemon colored gown. Plain in style, it helps at drawing attention to the moderate-pink mane that's hanging over it, directing the eye up to the split ends to the bangs, draping over Tempest's forehead. The subtle makeup highlights her face in places that Wind has never noticed before; her smooth cheeks, her captivating lips, and her flawless right side.
His gaze catches Tempest's attention, "...how do I look?"
Second Wind is finding it difficult to come up with a word that best captures all of the elegant details that's bringing out the best in her, all but that expressionless mouth of hers. After a moment, Wind sees something might help with that, "Well, why don't you see for yourself with the mirror behind you?"
His assuring smile is telling Tempest that she'll enjoy the sight of seeing her reflection. Tempest gives Wind an unamused look, but turns anyway to see her reflection. She locks with the image's eye, spotting the scar and tracing it up to the broken horn that glares through her mane. "..." she stretches out for the last needed accessory for her character. Tempest lays over her eyes a white domino mask with a red-feathered style pattern along its upper edge, matching with the peacock feather that covers her broken horn, "...hmph."
The room's lightbulb suddenly flickers, impairing everyone's sight with the warning that the curtain will soon rise.
"...let's get this over with." Tempest brushes the stallion aside.
Second Wind sighs out his disappointment as she heads out the door.
"The least she could've said was that it fits her," Ashen comments with a costume in paw.
Wind looks over to the chair, seeing Tempest's combat armor resting on it, "It's the first time I've seen her out of uniform, so that's something to consider, at least."
"She's a workaholic?"
"I don't think so. She was pretty rattled when I offered to store her suit in my wing before."
A perplexed look crosses Ashen. She studies Wind's wing, folded and is partially covering his cutie mark. Shaking her head, she turns back to her job, "Ponies, such an enigma."
Shining itself as the brightest location, a spotlight flashes on stage. There, stands the director of the show, Faith, "Ladies and Gentlebeasts! Tonight's performance is a tale that's familiar to us all, yet spoken in silence in our daily lives. It contains a powerful, fierce commander that once led armies into battle, and now leads a kingdom as king in his old age. But this is a story of his daughter, the flower he's nurtured over the years, and carries her father's spirit within her own. And now, fellow creatures, The Atys Auditorium Actors proudly present, 'The Sword is My Neighbour'!" he waddles off to the sound of the audience clapping.
The curtain rises. A scene is of a dark-orchid quadruped, the king, who's eating in a dining hall setting. His appearance of royalty appears naturally on him with the white wool that's grown along his back, over his shoulders towards his chest, and covering his head with an almost-like mohawk style to it. The unique horn at the end of his muzzle speaks in volumes to his coat, curving over his head to nearly the back of his neck in a way that can best be compared towards a scythe.
The king sit before a table with food spread across it; bread, fruits, a pitcher of milk. He bites into the muffin in his hooves as Tempest trots by him, "Good morrow, father."
"My little rose petal has ventured from her den," his high spirit is heard in his voice, but his joyful expression quickly fades with a heavy sigh, "and she still dons yond mask over thy grace." Tempest sits at the other end of the table, "Thou are filly no more, bloom thy beauty to the land."
"Father, we've waltz this topic ere."
"To keep visage enshielf for few to gaze upon, unsheathing only for her other," he slumps, "but even to thy father?"
She ignores his wishes and begins to eat.
The king sits up straight with a grunt escaping from him, "My little rose petal, tis time to cease this defiance and take inherited duties that art thine."
Tempest groans, "Resided in my quarters I should've."
"Hark, young maiden, for wisdom yon father bares holds experience and truth."
Tempest turns away from the oncoming lecture.
"To girth, to worth, to birth, three purposes of existence which all must abide for refuge in life. The feast before thee have ripened thou, these walls have molded thou to princess stature. I've given enough room to grow within these halls to take my place as overseer of the land, yet thou keep refusing the crown, refusing to uphold its responsibilities."
She rolls her eyes with the turn of her neck.
"I've provided the first two, but it seems that I must also provide thou with the last."
"Father?" Tempest looks with concern.
"A husband, one to break thou foalish ways into a committed monarch."
"Surely thou jesting!"
"Wild, I once was, yet my habits shifted upon marrying thy mother. Bestowing purpose and reasons for taking charge of the kingdom that held my wife and the foal she was carrying."
"But Father, I cannot amount to ideals so great. I'm one that lives amongst my creatures, not over them."
"Precisely why thou must take upon thyself the crown. By coronation or death, my reign approaches an end with each passing of the sun. What creature will there be when none bare the crown to maintain order?"
"I may in time, Fa-"
"For time be damned!" he stomped his decision, "Given time upon time for thee, yet nay sign of bewitchment, nay show of teasing, nay talk of attempts. Therefore, matters come down to my hooves to arrange."
"Prithee, Father, I beseech thee to-"
"ENOUGH!" he roared, "I shan't father a shrew any longer! Invoke a suitor. If thou isn't wrapping forelegs with a son of Adam Apple by next dawn, then pick one I shall."
Crackling sounds come from behind Tempest's mask's feather that currently covers her horn, announcing to everyone her rebellious choice of challenging her father if her angry expression wasn't enough.
"MY LORD!" a voice proclaims off stage. Tempest and the king turn as a pony marches into the scene, Second Wind. Attired with a crimson cap that drapes over his prosthetic wing and a feathered cavalier hat to match with it, Wind kneels down before the king, "Sire, I carry news from the battlefield."
Tempest snorts out her frustration, leaning on the table and aggressively bites into her breakfast.
"The Imperial Legion, they've yielded with the fall of their captain."
"Doth thou speak true!?" the king steps up from the table, "Of what method was this accomplished?"
"When meeting a swarming assault, our commander briskly weaved through the fray and smote the opposing captain like the bite of lightning."
The king makes a hearty laugh while clapping his forehooves, "The Gringolet Charge, few have dared such an attempt."
Tempest flips her mane in a haughty manner.
"Tis truly the dawn of a new day, one that deserves praise. Knave, send word, prepare a banquet for tonight!"
"Yes, milord."
"And make certain that commander is aware of the celebration. I seek them to be the guest of honour!"
Tempest lurches forward with a series of coughs, attempting to suppress them as she does.
"Er... um... they art not of this world anymore." Wind informs.
"Wherefore? By what means?"
"...choked on their loaf."
Tempest takes a gulp from the pitcher of milk.
"A pity to hear, but it shan't damper this joyous occasion," the king pats his lips with a napkin and follows up with a stern look at Tempest, "Little rose petal, I expect thou to take chance of this feast and seek out of what was spoken between us."
Regaining her breath, Tempest turns to him with a scornful look, "...will do, Father." She wipes her mouth with a napkin of her own, watching along with Wind as the king leaves the stage. "..." Tempest slams the napkin to the table, "When swine taste the heavens."
"Tis good to reunite with kin, eh?" Wind wittedly asks.
"It reignites what made the depart." Tempest rubs her eyes that hide behind her mask, "My heart heavies for the battlefield already."
"But conflict is over. The Phantom Commander hath little meaning to go on now."
"Fate, poetic prankster of encores, how I feared this day. If he just relinquishes his suffocating upbringing."
"He does so with love. Thou know that thine in his garden as the sole rose."
"Under glass within the castle of this beast," Tempest slams her hoof on the table once more, "His arrogant mind shan't listen to any thought but his own, overlooking the wishes of others for selfish demands. The stubborn nature of his is... is..." as Tempest tries to find the word, her ears swerve to the sound of suppressed chuckling. She looks at Second Wind with his head turned and a hoof to his mouth, "And to what doth these ripples of air arise from?" Tempest sternly asks with a glare.
Wind gesture her to ease with the other hoof, "My apologies, my lady, but the way thou act with such riled spirit," he smiles at Tempest upon regaining control, "Tis just like thou father's."
Tempest softens her demeanor, turning her gaze down, "...pray tell," she looks back with a gentle tone to her voice, "how doth thou put up my... my shrew nature?"
"Tis my duty."
"Yet when I request to venture beyond these walls, thou chooses to break that duty to fulfill my wish. Even when I don the guise as the Phantom Commander, thou didn't halt my attempt. I could've perished out there, the blame would fall on thou from father, who shan't be merciful as thou have." her eyes are filled with uncertainty behind the mask on her face, "Wherefore such lenience?"
"..." Wind kneels down, "Tis cruel to pour a bottle of happiness for those who cannot fetch it for themselves. Residing in this castle without sinned, ordered to be walled from a world that many travel to and fro at leisure," he smiles reassuringly, "I simply wish for thou to enjoy a world beyond thy limits."
Tempest continues to stare at Second Wind, mouth agape very subtly. She gently breaks eye contact, "...after all that's happened, I wish to make one final request. ...aid me to escape the realm, abandoning the country I'm bound to inherit, never to tread its soil again."
Wind springs up, "Doth thou assume to be acting hasty about this? What difference is there between leading an army to leading a kingdom? If a fork pierces a meal, would it matter if it's meant for a salad, dinner, or cake?"
"We're all winners of life's most important race, but we aren't given the choice of what our reward will bring. I may've been born to inherit the throne, but my soul isn't fit to resign in its chair."
"A new test that'll dare thy prowess in different ways," Wind attempts to sway, "thou shall master it beautifully."
"Tis my life, one that chooses not to live in such ways."
"Then what shalt thou live for?" a small hint of frustration in Wind's tone, "Tales of The Phantom Commander shan't invoke souls without opposing forces, so what's thou aim?"
Tempest maintains a pause between them, "...during the celebration, help me escape, my dear friend."
Wind now carries the silence of the conversation, he relinquishes a humph as he backs down and kneels once more, "...my lady."
As the two keep their pose, the stage's curtain begins to drop. The audience give a moderate applause for the first half of the performance coming to a close. With a flop of the curtain, Tempest eases herself, but suddenly finds herself being forced to walk, "Wha? Hey!"
"Come on, come on," Tempest hears Ashen behind her, pushing the mare along, "we gotta get you ready for the next scene!"
Second Wind quickly gallops up to them, maintaining the pace with the girls as he pulls the script out from his cape, "And we need to rehearse the rest of the play."
While everyone was already focusing on preparing for the second act, Tempest is finding herself lost in what's happening around her. One moment she was playing the role of a princess, the next, being pushed into the sewing room. She hears Wind speaking about something as Ashen tugs at her clothing, stripping her out in the open before a body-sized mirror.
"So when we get on the floor," Wind reviews aloud, "your line is, 'My nursemaid, my doppelganger, is ackno...'"
With the prolonged pause apparent, Tempest glances at Wind to see the reason. She catches him staring at her flank for a brief moment before the two make eye contact. Judging by the concerned look she's receiving, a sense of dread rushes over Tempest as she realizes how exposed she is. Mortified, because he knows.
The two ponies turn from each other, too guilty to look at the other with the fact floating in their minds.
"And... all set!" Ashen steps back to get a better look at her work, a black dress befitting for a princess with some smoky colored patterns to touch upon the hemline and a portion of areas to bring out an investing elegance of the attire, "Hmm... It's a little saggy on you, but it shouldn't interfere with your performance if you take it slow and easy to avoid tripping over it. What do you think?" she looks Tempest Shadow, noting the bleak expression on her face, "What's with the meek look?" Ashen turns to Second Wind, seeing that his expression isn't that much different, "And why are you acting so shy?" she looks back and forth between them, trying to make sense of things, "...I wouldn't think that getting dressed in front of someone would be a big deal with quadrupeds. They walk around naked all the time, and she has nothing to hide."
Tempest winces to the comment.
After getting no answer, Ashen goes out the door, giving up with an irritated groan, "Once again, my work goes unacknowledged."
Ashen's footsteps leave the room in complete silence. The uncomfortable weight in the air is beginning to become too much for Tempest and Wind, pressuring the two to do something other than to stand there.
"...well..." Wind tries to overcome the awkward situation, "...it's...it's an overrated feature anyways."
Tempest remains quiet, ignoring his reassuring attempt.
"...were there any you were striving for?"
"...more than I can recall. So many roles I thought I would be playing in life, so many parts I imagined I would be performing for the world, I could see them all with the eyes of a foal every time I saw my reflection." Tempest views the body-sized mirror, staring at the mare that stands before her in the mask, "This amazing mare that I wanted to be, just who was she? I'll try this, I'll try that, just what made her so unique? ...eventually, they were all attempted, but nothing came from it. I can still see a few more, yet they're blocked off... by that stub," she removes her mask, glaring at the broken horn that resides on her forehead, "Would it be in casting, developing new spells, or perhaps something more thematic like Shining with his barriers? Or maybe... maybe I'm just fooling myself. Maybe, in the end, there was nothing special about that pony in the mirror."
"..."
"...so where do I stand in life? I'm not much of a unicorn with a broken horn, but I'm not much of a pony without a cutie mark."
Second Wind lays a hoof on his head, conflicting on how to respond to Tempest's remark. Reassuring words to a grown disheartened mare won't work like it would with a young impressionable filly.
Tempest continues to get lost at the sight of her disfigurement, "...sometimes, I often think, maybe this horn of mine is intended to be my missing cutie mark."
Wind flickers his eyes.
"A stub of lost potential and a leftover with inutile hope of being anything but an insipid blemish in the end."
On the verge of voicing his words, Wind hesitates. Given Tempest's nature, the scenario that's playing in his head tells him that proceeding through this manner will only be cut off by her. Wind backs down, rethinking his approach that could reach her... somehow... "...Ashen ...Ashen really shouldn't jump over the finer details."
Tempest Shadow glances back at him.
"Hold on," Second Wind unfolds his prosthetic wing and begins to fiddle with the panel until an accessory flashes into his grip. A silver brooch, forged to appear as two angelic wings, but the gashes and a broken feather told that it had seen better days. He extends it to Tempest with a hearten smile, "put this on."
His request is met with Tempest taking a defensive step back. The last jewelry given to her was something she finds a distaste in for its purpose. This one could be no different, "What's your hidden intention?"
"To complement your best feature."
Her unamusement sparks from her horn, "Are you going to tell me it's enchanted to cast some kind of illusion over me or something similar to that nature?"
Wind eases his smile to a playful one, "If I did, would you believe me?"
"After the con you pulled on that cactus earlier today, I wouldn't believe a word of it."
"That's a shame," he shakes his head, maintaining the act, "I took you as someone who had an open mind."
"I'm open-minded, just..." she averts her gaze.
"...nothing coming to the top of your head?"
A spark of magic snaps from Tempest's horn, "..."
Wind proceeds to pin the brooch on Tempest without any struggle from her, "There's nothing magical about this brooch. No enhancements, no spells, just another accessory amongst the many other brooches out there."
"I'm not buying that," Tempest protests with a stern look, "not if you're so insistent on this. There's something about this brooch that you're not telling me."
"Oh really?" a coy look forms on Wind, "So if I got this right," he turns Tempest around to face the mirror, "you're saying that this scratched and broken thing... is capable of something that you're not seeing? Like, something that makes it special?"
Tempest has her sights on the brooch on her chest, but her eyes begin to trail up for the scar on her face that leads to the fractured horn on her head. She tenses up, allowing the silence to speak for her, "..."
The lights to the room suddenly flicker in a rapid display, breaking the moment and reminding the two of them the approaching task needed of them. Tension leaves Tempest, only for it to build on Second Wind, "Aw crud! We didn't practice the lines for the act! We're going to have to improvise."
"..." Tempest looks down at her mask, "...shouldn't be a problem."
"You sure?"
Tempest straightens the mask over her face, "A roll about a mare with wishes that'll shatter from the risk she acts on?" she walks past Wind, "What's there to improvise?"
Second Wind talks a deep breath to endure the antipathy he's feeling, "A question I ask myself every time you talk that way."
The stage curtain rises with the audience clapping to it, revealing the scene of the party already underway. With a backdrop of a ballroom on display, various creatures are playing out a role to push the illusion for the audience.
A few white anthropomorphic rats dance in the center of the stage to the music that's being performed by three distinct creatures on the left side of the stage: a round frog on drums, a short mouse on horns, and a tall avian on the harp that hangs from his arm. The band's music softens after a moment to allow the actors at the other end of the stage, the king and Tempest, to take the scene from here. Both actors sit on the throne with conflicting postures to convey their emotions, with the king showing a grinning face that bounces to the music and the princess slumping over with no interest in the event before her.
The king turns to Tempest, catching her expression, "Invest on this occasion, my dear petal."
Tempest pushes up her mask.
"Prance out, converse, be merry as you grace the floor with your presence, for thou shan't gain a suitor with such a sulking visage from up here."
A flopping sound rings in their ears, drawing their attention to a bowing stallion before them. Tilting his head under the red cavalier hat, Second Wind looks up to Tempest with an extending hoof, "May I request a dance, my lady?"
The king watches intensely at Tempest as she takes the stallion's hoof and is pulled to the floor with Wind, "Epona, rein her trail."
Tempest and Wind make their way to centerstage, exchanging a bow within the sole spotlight that continues to shine while all others begin to dim. The scene heavily implies to the audience the seclusion of this intimate moment. Facing their partner with their left forehoof up, gently pressing against the other's, the two of them pace right, rotating in a circle.
Tempest takes the first line, "My nursemaid, my doppelganger, is acknown of the situation and stands at the ready to permanently taketh the role of myself. How fares thee with the escape?"
"Grim," the two change hooves and reverse direction, "Guards art stationed against many walls tonight. Uncovering a path seems bleak, forging one appears frail, and failure towers over this plan's success."
"Tonight of all nights," they pull away, stretching their forelegs while still hoof-locked, "why must it be sore?"
"Thine father knows his daughter well," they draw back, closing the distance between them, "...many, know his daughter well."
Tempest gradually shifts her gaze away from the dance partner who's so close, "...the world it would mean, if thou were to accompany my side on this life-long journey I face."
"I swore to protect the princess, not a traveler. If thy wish is to keep hidden, then stay behind I must to keep this ruse from surfacing."
She turns her sight to the floor, "...then ...tis my last night with thou."
From the downcast she makes, Wind's mind is pulling him to the event that happened in the sewing room, "...doth thou despise the thought of baring the crown so much?"
She glances back at him.
"Valiantly venturing into battle at the frontline, leading her nation to victory with scattered rose petals in her wake. The flower with the spirit of a lion is choosing to scurry off with her tail between her legs?"
Giving a huff, Tempest looks off to the side, "Must we touch upon this?"
"And she chooses to falter from this as well?"
"..."
"Thy father is too frail to make another heir, he'll seek thou down no matter the cost."
"This is folly."
"I concur, the princess I know is no recreant."
"..."
"Art thou planning to fight forever, never to sheath thy sword for peace to flourish from within thy being?"
"If it must, then it shalt be."
"Then black clouds will accumulate thou, reshaping thine image inside a vortex cloak."
Tempest Shadow stays silent.
"Nation, kin, even soul is being cast aside for this escapade, all because thou refuses the crown?"
"Twill scar me, but such is sacrificing."
"Not if thou sacrifices this plan and challenges the crown, dawning its weight upon thy head."
Faint sounds of static emits from her broken horn.
"...what of foals, doth thee ever consider to bear?"
"...mayhaps."
"Then how shall ye upbring whilst sprinting?" Wind shifts his body to be caught in the corner of Tempest's eye, just enough to share a moment and quickly broken as she shuts them, "Bliss can still be found under the crown. Living with it shan't deter thou into isolation nor will it take away bliss that a commoner can experience. Masking thou face from that truth sha-"
"ENOUGH!" Tempest lashes her voice, placing pressure on her face at keeping her eyes from looking at him, "Cease this banter! Just... just where doth thine allegiance lie? Art thou acting on father's behalf?"
"Who's acting."
His blunt statement snaps all of Tempest's attention to Second Wind, shaken by how the line was delivered, how direct it was. His penetrating eyes leaves her lost on what to make of him and where this conversation was going. Is he playing his part to the pony behind the mask, or is he addressing the mare beyond the role?
With a sharp breath, Tempest breaks herself out of the trance and out of Wind's forelegs.
The dimmed lights brighten up the stage again to bring an end to their moment.
Turned away, Tempest speaks over her shoulder, "I trust that thou keep thine oath to our agreement."
Wind huffs, but still stays in character by bowing to her. Tempest marches forward with Wind leaving the other way shortly afterwards.
Tempest passes by the king, "Yond stallion seems worthy for thou."
His opinion slows her to a pause, "...he deserves a maiden more fairer than I."
Second Wind halts.
"More fairer than my daughter?!"
"...goodnight, father."
Tempest walks off as the lights dim once more, this time with a spotlight focused on her alone. All the other creatures on stage use the darkness to their advantage by scrambling and setting up the next scene. Props are taken with new ones to take their place, and the backdrop begins to rise in beats by a single stagehand pulling a rope. The stagehand grumbles, "Traveling the world, meeting new faces, experiencing fierce battles, and the old troop places me back to being the guy who does all the heavy lifting," he yanks the rope and ties it to the anchor. He studies Tempest as she turns, "I should be just as skilled as this actress after all. She's a traveler too, right? ...hmm ...she looks familiar," and rubs the chin of his painted face.
Tempest faces the scene as the lights brighten up the stage for a big, wide garden as its setting, but she's too into her character to focus on details or her direction as she drifts, "Bear the crown. To hear that from father is one thing, but him!?"
Tempest stops by a shrub, turning her sight up, "Unforgiving stars, out of all the lives that desire for greatness, why does thou choose to challenge the one that seeks to be amongst the common? Free to choose their own venture, unchained from the limits of a crown. The plight of a princess is befitting for quietus, for can it be considered living if one must accept a life that they despise? ...but ...can it be called life if there's nothing to be living for?"
Tempest treds across stage, glancing at a filled birdbath. She studies her reflection on the cold surface of water, "Irony, thy cruel sadist, donning this mask no matter where my place stands in this world. Holding my doubts from those that are near, cloaking my anguish during ventures across the many plains, hiding behind a window to the harsh world of being alive."
Wandering to a backless bench, Tempest rests on the stone furniture, "They speak truth though, life is but a fleeting moment given to us from the union of two. It soothes the soul to be held by another, hearing their hearts sync in euphoric rhythm for their love towards the other. ...yet, to what chance does one have with a body that's broken when there are so many that are whole? The fragile grace, the elegant visage, delicate to the touch is the body of a mare that others seek." She lays a hoof on her mask, "Just what sort of stallion would be drawn towards a scarred face that'll greet him every morn?" Tempest gently lowers her mask, revealing the scar over her eye and the broken horn to the audience.
While the audience murmured with mixed reactions, the stagehand gasps, "AH! It's her!" he quickly begins to act without thinking.
"Calling soil," Tempest looks at the ground, "am I destined to bed thee in misery?"
A figure swings into the scene by rope. Upon the apex, it lets go and drops to the stage with a booming sound that draws everyone's attention to a creature. Sliding his hooves along the floor, arms up like he's ready to throw anyone who charges him, a familiar minotaur stands in a fighting pose, Genji Spirit, "Thought you could pull a fast one on me by guising yourself, eh?"
Tempest pulls back with a gasp, "Gilgamesh!"
"...Gilgamesh?" Genji lifts an eyebrow.
Maintaining her posture, Tempest nudges her head and darts her eyes towards the audience watching.
"Huh?" Genji turns, "...uh-oh, ah y-y-yes! Tis I, Gilgamesh. The very one thou bested at the battle of Carteneau. My army fell that day and I seek vengeance for them. I knew thou would attend a celebration for thine victory, but to think that thou were Princess... er... Princess Lightning Storm. Yet, my will sways not," the ring on Genji's right hand flashes as he swings his arm, forming a rapier in his grip, "unsheathe thy sword, for our conflict commences once more."
Tempest takes a step back. She left her sword back in the dressing room, but even with it, it would do little against Genji's anti-magic equipment. With another step back, she walks on her dress and begins to recall Ashen saying something about her costume being a hindrance to her movement. She can't put up a fight under these conditions, but the matter of keeping the show going, "Nature such brash will best thee!"
Genji crooks his mouth, finding the truth of it very bitter until something catches his eyes, just beyond Tempest. He smiles and begins to run at the pony, "The end is nigh!"
As Genji attempts to strike at Tempest with his sword, the figure gallops from behind her, "NAY!" and clashes the weapon with a metallic wing, "Thou shan't harm my princess!"
Tempest gasps, "Sir Cloud Gazer!" she identifies Second Wind.
Genji leaps back from Second Wind, "To what is this for my eyes show me? A champion? An assassin?"
"I stand for providing Lady Lightning with the support she needth," Wind answers in an aspiring voice.
"Ah, a naive. Step aside, or my sword shall be stained with thy blood."
"Never!" Wind summons Tempest's sword with his prosthetic wing and extends it to her. "I'd risk my life for fair maiden."
"To what reason?" Genji said, completely lost in his character. "Tis a personal match between us two. For what reason doth thou have for interference?"
"Because..." Wind's eyes shift, thinking up an excuse to get out of the tight situation he's in. He recalls a comment Faith made earlier, "...because she is for who I love!"
While the audience gasps with one of them saying, 'I knew it!' Tempest leans back, sinking into her mane.
"For you love her!?" Genji sounds his disbelief, but his face gives away an intrigued look that tells that he's plotting something, "How can one love this creature who always glooms?"
"She may lament while darkness surrounds her, but I'll be the starlight that'll shine a path out, even from afar."
"Next claim thou'll jest is that love will be as bright as the sun."
"Nay, for it will outshine it."
Tempest shrinks her posture, restraining herself with an irritated groan as she does before placing her mask back over her face.
Second Wind unties the red cape he wears and tosses it on the stone bench, "I shan't stand by as you strike down my beloved."
"That so," Genji snaps his fingers as an idea struck and tosses his rapier into his ringless hand, "then this shall test thy devotion!"
On that claim, Genji charges at Second Wind in a way that shows little severity. He swings his sword horizontally-downwards, easily blockable for Wind with his prosthetic wing. The clanking sound of metal echoes the stage with a single impact as the two lock their weapons into a shoving match.
Wind is finding it surprising that he's holding his own against a powerful minotaur, but the shock quickly vanishes upon realizing that they're currently performing in a play. A little disappointed, but eases his mind that he'll see this through without any trouble.
"Let us begin!" Genji's ring flashes with a scroll appearing in his hand, aiming point-blank at Wind's face. The pegasus fails to register the approaching spell and gets hit with a black puff of smoke, surprising the audience.
Wind's vision becomes impaired as all he can see is darkness. Genji jumps back, giving Second Wind the chance to break the cloud with a series of wing beats. The smoke dissipates, revealing his face unscaved, yet Wind doesn't cease his wings. He swings harder at the open air around him, making himself look like a fool at this point.
"What'd you do to him!" Tempest breaks her character's dialect with the abrupt command.
"Tis said that love's blind," Genji states, "hence he must challenge me while under the state of 'Blind'." His claim causes Second Wind to flinch and plants his hooves to the stage to maintain his balance while under this condition. "Now," Genji locks eyes with Tempest, "let us witness," his eyes make swift dashes towards Wind, "if love will find a way."
Tempest Shadow quirks a brow as Genji rushes Second Wind. He turns his shoulders in a very exaggerated manner that tells her how he'll strike. Tempest widens her eyes as she shifts her sight between the minotaur and the unaware pegasus, "He's coming from your left!"
Wind quickly covers behind his prosthetic wing to clash with Genji's oncoming sword. He shoves the minotaur back.
Genji regains control of his stance and turns his attention at Tempest, standing behind the pegasus that's protecting her, "But of course, love is a team effort!" The ring on Genji shines to deliver another scroll into his grasp, "I must account for two."
Tempest doesn't hesitate, "He's planning to launch another spell at-"
Genji crouches and springs into the air with the scroll pointed at Tempest, "You!"
A purple orb shoots out the scroll. Tempest covers behind her foreleg in time for it to receive the impact, hardly phasing her while the spell bursts into a cloud of smoke.
The puff of air shortly dissipates with Tempest Shadow in perfect condition. She takes quick review on herself, but both body and mind is still within her control. Tempest lifts a brow, "Othingnay appenedhay?" and follows it up with the other brow, "Ywhay amway iway alkingtay ikelay isthay!?"
"Love is something that can be understood without the need of speech," Genji states about his philosophy. "Being short on 'Silence' spells, I've cast thou with the 'Curse' spell. Until the fight is through, you will only speak Piggish."
A spark of magic snaps from Tempest's horn, "Wotay ornhay ododay!"
"Now, let's see how thou block this!" Genji raises his sword overhead.
"Aboveway!"
Genji swings down and collides with Wind's metal wing, "Lucky block!" He attempts again.
"Eftlay!"
And Genji clashes with Wing once more.
Genji Spirit jumps back, "I figured that her diverse tongue would slow thy reaction. How doth thou respond so swiftly?"
"Tis our bond," Wind straightens and extends an open wing at her, "Take note of the brooch yond princess wears.
All the creatures look at the accessory, including Tempest.
"Twas given to her by me, a keepsake of my mother's and the only thing I have left of her before journeying to the farplane."
His claim flabbergasts Tempest to say the least. Looking between Wind and the brooch, she wonders if she should take his word as truth.
"Carrying it gives me strength. A mother's protection, if not, wishful thinking. I know my princess will protect it, like my mother will be for her."
Tempest pushes her mask up, grumbling.
"Thou hast given me a lot to consider," Genji speaks, cryptic on his meaning, "perhaps I should-" Genji dashes with another scroll in hand, surprising Tempest and pointing the parchment at Second Wind, "SLEEP ON IT!"
Genji shoots the scroll's spell, catching Tempest off guard and engulfing Wind within a white cloud. He doesn't fall back this time like he's done with the other spells, there's little reason why as the cloud vanishes to reveal Second Wind, head lowered as he stands there, sleeping.
Astonished, Genji marvels how 'Sleep' has affected Second Wind, "So they do stand while they doze!" He looks past the stallion, seeing the anticipating Tempest looking about. Genji makes a 'humph' and makes his way past Wind, "Tis said that behind every bold stallion, there is an encouraging mare. However, I have yet to discover what that mare takes away from said stallion."
Tempest Shadow frantically shifts her head to find something that could help. She notices the birdbath not that far from her sleeping friend, but she needs to get by that approaching minotaur first. She continues to look and catches sight of the red cape Wind had on, resting on the stone bench next to her. With Genji's words still fresh in her mind, Tempest hops over and picks up the garment, waving it at the biped bovine in a taunting manner.
Genji stops, shaking disapprovingly at the sight, "That is specist." his muscles gradually start to vibrate, "...but ...but it's true!" He crouches and dashes at the red cape with his neck bent, presenting the horns on his head that he'll be ramming with.
Timing it just right, Tempest whips the red fabric away, introducing Genji with a backless bench for him to tumble over and fall into a shrub.
While Genji recovers from that short faena, Tempest quickly makes her way to Wind and reviews his sleeping state. Shaking him, patting his cheek, Wind isn't walking up. She glances over to the water in the birdbath, grabbing the bowl portion and swings out the cold water at the pony, splashing Wind with a shock that's enough for him to wake up from. He rubs his eyes, wiping the water off his face and giving a few blinks.
Wind focuses his gaze on Tempest, adjusting his returning vision at the mare who catches it, "Ouyay ancay eesay againay!"
Genji jumps back to his feet and gives himself a quick brush down. He smiles at the ponies with another scroll forming in his grip, "Tis time to bring this to an end!"
Pointing that scroll at Tempest, Genji shoots a green ball at her. She covers behind a hoof and Second Wind, now able to see the oncoming attack, jumps to take the hit with his wing. The ball bursts into a green gas, encasing the stallion inside of it.
The gas disperses. Tempest lowers her hooves, seeing that Second Wind has vanished. She scans the area and discovers the hat Wind was wearing, miniaturized and fitted perfectly on of all things that's sprawled on the ground, a frog. As the amphibian sits up, Tempest notices two large warts are on his sides, and while the right side matches the color of his green skin, the left wart was silver. She scoops up amphibian, bringing him to eye level as she gets a distinct feeling about his croaking face. There's no doubt in her mind, this frog is Second Wind.
Now without her guard, Genji approaches, "The end is nigh." Tempest covers her forehooves around Wind as the minotaur lifts his sword at them like a fencer, "Any last words, Princess Lightning Storm?"
The emphasis he placed on the word, 'Lightning', doesn't go unnoticed by Tempest, but for what reason? She's physically incapable of putting up a fight, she can't phase through his anti-magic equipment, she can only glare as sparks form from her broken horn.
And suddenly, she gets it.
Tempest lets out a flurry of lightning bolts at Genji from her horn. He yells and shakes violently, imitating as if he's being electrocuted by her attack. It's convincing enough for the audience to believe, none the wise that his equipment is nullifying the Equestrian magic.
Yielding her magic after a shocking display, Genji drops his word. He stumbles back with a hand over his heart, "Alas, I let my guard down," Genji coughs, "and so have thou, Lightning Storm."
Tempest, still holding Wind, who's a frog, watches Genji fall to his knees.
"As I die, I relish with the knowledge that I scourged thy lady's proud image," he falls to his elbow, trying to support himself with what strength he has left, "for the only way to break yond stallion's froggy state... is through... a maiden's... kiss..."
A sharp gasp that sounds like a abrupt squeak comes out of Tempest, "A-A-ATWHAY!!!" she hollers at the sprawled out Genji, receiving a thumb up from the minotaur. Lost for words, she just keeps turning between the troublesome minotaur, and the frogified stallion in her hoof. The audience's patience is of the essence, and she's quickly drying it up.
"Little rose petal," the actor playing the king gallops onto the stage, providing assistance as his character, "to what-" he looks down at the frog in Tempest's hooves, "I say, the leaper thou clings closely to, ease thy father's fears and tell that this isn't thy chosen love."
"Ah... bu... I... ah..." Tempest tries to explain, but she can't even figure out how she found herself in this position.
"I shan't allow it! My flower must wed a stallion, not a frog." a distinct sound of him clearing his throat is heard, "Of course, if thou could make him into a stallion, I'd have a change of heart."
Tempest clenches her teeth. She makes a short whine with her expressive eyes rolling, closing them and rushes her lips on the frog's. The slimy and cold feeling on her lips immediately blows itself away for a tingling and warm sensation to sweep over her. She peeks at Wind's amber eyes, no longer holding a frog in her hooves, but a stallion, his head drawn in close with her hooves along his jawbone.
Tempest breaks the contact in a swift darting of her head, focusing at keeping her eyes to the floor.
"Little rose petal," the king acts in astonishment, "is this thou chosen one?"
"..." laying a hoof on her mask, Tempest throws it to the ground, "..."
"Her mask, tis removed!" the king puts it together and gives a joyous grin, "Her vow to bear her face to her husband has come to pass! Thank the day and praise the night, for this shall be a new chapter for all to enjoy!!"
With a good place to finish an improv performance, Faith enters on stage to seize it, "And thus, as our story closes, take heed of its message. While we all may choose our paths to follow, be it for grandeur or descent, a breeze of love can shift the course of our journey. Though incapable of pushing us down this path, our volition is the deciding factor if we should answer it. Accept, decline, be ready to act, for one never knows when a gust will pass by. "
The audience begins to applaud for the performance they just witnessed.
Second Wind takes a bow along with everyone on stage, and as he looks over at Tempest, he sees that she hasn't even moved after throwing off her mask. As the curtain finally falls, Wind expresses his concern, "Is everything alright, Tempest?"
"...W ...W-wind," signs of 'Curse' is beginning to wear off on Tempest, but she's now having trouble to simply look at the stallion, "w-what just happened, will never be spoken again. ...GOT IT?!"
Even though her back is turned, Second Wind picks up on the threat of those last words. Taking a moment, he chooses his words very wisely, "...that won't be a problem," and a mischievous smile begins to appear on his face, "because it'll only be written in tonight's journal entry."
"..."
"Entry #82 - Tempest Shadow starred in a play today as the main lead."
"..."
"She was so invested in her character that everyone was completely moved by how she performed."
"..."
"Even when Genji steered the play completely off script, she adjusted flawlessly."
Tempest walks off...
"A fight broke out, but even though I was blind, I have no doubt that she glistened a captivating beauty during those moments."
...stopping before an object...
"And when I turned into a frog, she overcame her shyness and expressed her loving nature by giving me a... a..."
...and lowers to grab it in her teeth.
Second Wind sees Tempest Shadow rising with Genji's rapier by its handle. He begins to hear her seething, slowly getting louder and heavier. As she takes a sharp breath of air, she whips her head around and glares at him over a pair of blushing cheeks. She screeches as she charges and begins to swing the sword at the stallion relentlessly and constantly keeps getting blocked by Wind's prosthetic wing, "I was playing! I WAS PLAYING!!" he laughs, enjoying the sight of Tempest expressing herself more openly for a change.
Ashen, Faith, and other crew members stand at a distance as the two fight, cautions about the event before them. Ashen looks over to Faith, "Should one of us stop her."
"No, no, let things play out." Faith smiles, "You gotta respect the commitment to her 'method acting'."
She snickers, "Praise the tsun."