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Brisa soaked in the view from the top of the world. She could touch the heavens. She could see the curvature of the planet. She could pass out, if she wasn't careful. "This is one of a dozen spots I shortlisted," she admitted. "But y'said y'wanted to see the world, and with only time fer one...

Brisa allowed herself to be a little smug, having been a mountain-climber since she was a kitten and kept up the habit while on Cibus, if at times only by means of Guild HQ staircases. But she didn't let on. It would be ungracious. "You're more'n welcome. It meant a lot t'me that you fought me...

Brisa nodded in agreement. "Fella's alright with me," she said, definitively. "Doubt the Arceus of my world is as pleasant, if they're still around. Ha, as if I'd be so lucky." She coughed, awkwardly. "Don't mean t'sound corny, but... We were only doin' our jobs. I'm just glad he's stickin'...

Brisa recalled the starry plains of Spirit's Edge. A strange fate. But perhaps . . . not so dreadful as one might fear? "My idea of peace involves keepin' plenty active," agreed Brisa. "I need purpose t'keep me breathin'." In the alpine air, each breath was cool and sweet, but already the thin...

Scary or intimidating. So there was the admission – that Zeraora had anxieties of her own. Cibus had shown Brisa time and time again that even the gods were people, with hearts and minds, but this confession from a zeraora . . . hit her more sharply. And then, a moment later, it became a...

Brisa's throat tightened for a moment, and she dug a claw into her palm, wishing, wanting to be that aspirant, wanting to stay, wanting this to be her world, her home, her responsibility. But she had to go. Soon. It would not be her. The moment passed. The two kept climbing the mountain...

Brisa pawed her chin. "The Blacklight might be volatile, but it ain't too different in kind than Divinity. I'd feel reassured knowin' a cadre of responsible Blacklight Wielders were lookin' out fer my adoptive homeworld once the posse are gone." Brisa looked sidelong at Zeraora. "Wait, what did...

Brisa shrugged. "Don't matter none too much to me whether I'm remembered generations from now. I'm satisfied to have been happy and served the public. And I mean that." She swallowed, brow furrowing. "It is like death, I guess. I don't think of it that way fer myself, but as y'say, folks here...

Brisa gave a dry smile. "Be as blunt as you like. I won't take offence." She kept pace with Zeraora, one paw swinging freely, the digits on the other rubbing against each other in contemplation. "I've been sayin' goodbyes and resolvin' loose ends. I never kept many possessions here, but almost...

Despite Luz's initial misgivings about Zeraora's corruption, she had proved capable of handling it, perhaps better even than many of Diyem's posse. Brisa couldn't help but be relieved that there remained folks on Cibus who could defend it against any future threats. Diyem and his family, the...

Strange to think, but evidently true. "I can't show you the whole damn planet, but I can show you parts of it I find special," offered Brisa. "And if y'want a scrap, that can be arranged too." She grinned. "Speakin' of scraps, I never got the chance to say this before... Thanks fer yer help...

Brisa took zeraora form for this encounter. It seemed appropriate. While Zeraora might subsist on nothing, Brisa's satchel had victuals and such, so she wasn't worried. And yet Zeraora was, somehow. Luz' account and Brisa's own experience had been of a self-possessed, independent demigod. And...

Zeraora of the Outworlds. In a flash, Brisa imagined herself travelling as God Squad and Eien once had, and Joule still might, a zeraora of many worlds. But for now, she was ground-bound, with a pressing duty to attend to. She shook Zeraora's paw firmly, grinning with satisfaction. For her own...

Not quite a knockout, but a technical victory was just as good in a clash like this. And goddamn, what a battle. "Yer a real storm-with-claws," remarked Brisa, steadying her breath from the exertion of the final exchange. "That's the kind of goddamn battle I live fer. You get it. You fight like...

Brisa came out of her combat trance with a sharp roar of satisfaction. Zeraora's intent was to strike hard, Brisa could feel it in her just as plain as if there were Whiplash cords connecting them. She could probably survive a full-on onslaught – she'd tuned her aura to survive a lot – but that...

Zeraora's adeptness with the Blacklight was extaordinary. Her speed, her disposition – this was exactly how Brisa sought to fight. She'd have to draw on Shadows to survive more attacks like that. She dug deep. What do you fear becomin', ranger? What d'you hope fer? To be like her...? Enough...

Brisa rolled her neck, cracked her knuckles, breathed deep and felt the Blacklight flow and ebb around, within, and between them. This duel would be something else, win or lose. It was right that it should take place here. Plasma bloomed over Brisa's body, a lightless fire embracing her, to...

Brisa didn't answer instantly. A request from a Legend should be considered. Its implications given due thought. Zeraora's species, at least in this world, was a regional guardian. Had her specialism confined her to Amp Plains, at least without surrendering a good portion of her power? Indeed...

An explanation so simple, Brisa had overlooked it. Not so great a mystery after all. "I hope that's true," she said, honestly. "As dangerous as the Blacklight is, it's all that's preserved this world of late." Luck and skill, huh? "How did you come by yer ascension, Zeraora?" asked Brisa...

Diyem, sapping corruption from the more psychologically vulnerable member of the party? Brisa nodded, and gave a tiny, dry huff of amusement. "I suspect you're right. There's a disparity between our clearer-headed fighters and the more troubled, yet they somehow get by." Zeraora truly was fully...