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Brisa chuckled, holding a paw to her chest to tamp down the pain the laughter caused her battered ribcage. "Thanks, partner. An' I wish the same fer you." She padded over to her friend, smiling. "Don't you go feelin' like y'ain't special t'me just 'cause I don't much fancy matchin' tongues...

Brisa made a face. "His 'replica' already defeated the enemy we're starin' down. An' his team neatly handed our asses to us, near-enough. Second-rate, indeed." She shook her mane, and winced at the throbbing in her aching head. Probably needed to visit the infirmary again. Or, uh, not that...

Ayy lmao

Brisa raised a brow. "I'm sure he does, an' I'm sure it's a good one, but by the stars, it'd better be. I'll be interested t'hear it either way." She sighed, and went to get herself a drink. Something light. She was keeping off the heavy stuff until Dave was a little less worrisome. "Reminds...

Brisa considered this as she stretched out, first shoulders, then haunches. "Alright, noted. If you do come along t'one of those, we'll be sure to give you a shout fer whatever's needed. We've drilled enough times that I can think fast 'bout what'll help out most." She grinned. "Lookin'...

"I have trouble tellin' the difference myself, sometimes," admitted Brisa. "Did I protect the town outta the goodness of my heart, or 'cause I felt like I had no choice? I dunno. I think it's more important that there's hope fer a better future somewhere, even if some of yer allies ain't ones...

[[Nice work, Yellow. I'm truly impressed. You had me fooled!]]

Brisa rubbed her chin. "Yeah. Yeah, y'could be right. I mean, even if it's just a spark of willingness to get some help with whatever his shit is... It could change things. His issue was he'd been workin' on the problem alone fer five years, right? Whether he sends fer me or someone else, could...

Brisa is still hotly pursuing her Colosseum career. Next up in the Omen Gauntlet, she and Starr intend to face Team Gyros. What does Owen have to say about their fighting style? Any advice for the gals?

Brisa waved her tail noncommittally. "I guess so. Fer me, this is all still about, uh, opportunity rather than selfhood. But yeah. I'd like these memories back..." She flicked an ear and grimaced at a stray thought, a stray pain. "But really I'd rather have the people back than the memories. Or...

Brisa pried herself out of unconsciousness and scraped herself off the ground to see, through that dizzy post-knockout haze, yet another mutual knockout. On the scale of two dozen participants, this time. Holy skyfire. She coughed, and blood spattered her forearm where she put it to her mouth...

"Feelings, huh?" Brisa mused on that. That feeling she had now, of hope and expectation for Gil to spark something new in her life, of fondness and admiration in retrospect for their brave little soul... If it could survive the return home, maybe she'd be alright. "That's a good thing t'hope...

Brisa took the petunia with an ironic grin. She wasn't really a floral kind of gal. But she loved her friend, so she stuck it in her mane anyway. "Been cogitatin' a bit on that, yeah," she said. "Like, am I really not gonna get sick of that shit in ten, twenty, thirty years? Is nobody else...

Brisa nodded. Owen had alluded to as much, before. The kind of strength that seemed plentiful in Kilo was practically incomprehensible. "It ain't a challenge of strength, though, is it? Yer head is part of it. I reckon yer heart is, too." Brisa skewed her mouth in thought. "Y'know, in some...

"Can't be easy t'contemplate goin' back to," said Brisa, feeling a little deja vu. "I ain't keen on losin' what we have here, an' while my old life ain't good, I ain't a 'puppet', at least. Makes me wish..." She was so used to shutting down her own fantasies before she could enjoy them. Fuck...

"Yeah, been thinkin' 'bout that plenty of late." There were a lot of ways to answer that one. Some more optimistic, some more negative. She didn't much feel like overthinking it. That was one of the advantages of speaking to Owen. He didn't know exactly what you were thinking, but he could...

"You're adorable," muttered Brisa, fondly. "Whatever it is y'have in mind, I reckon you oughta go fer it. You've more'n earned that, however it turns out." She lashed her tail at him as if to wag a finger. "No backin' out, y'hear? I'll be in that audience. Our void eternas, too. Count on it."...

She didn't nod, just made a pained grunt of agreement. "Yeah, I wanna get as many as I can in afore I run outta time. Surprised you ain't had more yerself. More big ones anyway. Y'sure y'ain't been holdin' back in yer fights? You'n I could take apart a lotta folks t'gether."

Brisa groaned softly in her heap of blankets and cushions. A good bruise or muscular ache was one thing, and she was used to the singe of her arcflash plasma, but this was something else. She cracked a heavy eye open at Owen. "Hardest ass-kickin' since Joule," she muttered. "Feels halfway...