Sapphire's Bad Day
"It all went wrong," she thinks, "when I attempted to land the warbird on a barge floating in the middle of the Yellow River." Sapphire sits on the banks of that very river as the sun is going down. Her face is streaked with dirt, and her beautiful silk (midnight blue to match her eyes) has seen better days. "Even then," she reflects, "it wouldn't have been that bad had I not sunk like a stone. I can't believe that Leaf had to rescue me. I've never had to save him from anything. So embarrassing!" She stands, and raises a hand to cover her face. It's been that kind of day.
She dusts off her ruined kimono (trying not to notice that it makes no difference; it's far too late for that now), and gets to work. She clears a patch of the river bank, tossing away rocks, and tearing up what little grass has taken root until she has a suitable section of bare, slightly damp earth. She then starts sketching out her circle. She works, by the silver light of her anima, still deep in thought. "And then, out of nowhere, he asked me about Galen. It probably shouldn't have surprised me; I know how people persist in putting two and two together to get three. And Leaf...it's as though secrets are looking for him. But I've been a part of this circle for nearly a year. I guess... I just hope that they, of all people, won't believe the worst of me."
She has to stop as she thinks about Galen. Time has passed, and though it's not the raw wound it was, still her hands start to shake. She clenches them into fists, and for just a moment, she feels again the grief, the icy rage, the commitment to revenge. But then she calms herself, and relaxes her hands, continuing her preparations. She removes from her pack the small box of salt she keeps for just such an occasion, and evaluates it carefully. It will do.
As she begins tracing the circle in pure salt, adding complexity with each graceful gesture of her hand, she considers the final indignities of the day. "I can't believe that even now, no one knows who I am. You'd think that being able to summon a kraken of liquid hot magma would count for something, but no, apparently that's pretty forgettable. And then when the commander tried to oppose us, instead of hitting anyone, I tripped and fell on my face. Great, just great. Now I'll forever be known as that clumsy girl who hangs out with the Solars of Marukan."
She stands back to survey her work. She makes sure that every line connects, that the pattern is flawless and complete. She has learned the lesson of being absolutely certain of the quality of her circle before proceeding. But this time, at least, not a thing needs to be changed. She smiles and rolls up the sleeve of her robe, tying it in place. She then picks up the knife she borrowed from Lu Fei (who is very definitely somewhere else right now) and cuts lightly across her palm.
At first it doesn't even hurt, but it starts to sting as the cut begins to bleed. "Stupid blood summoning," she thinks, as she hurries to trace the circle one last time before the bleeding stops. "It's so much stronger than summoning without, but it's such a hassle. Oh well." As the last connection is made in blood, and the endless knot is tied, the entire pattern glows with an infernal green light.
She waits as the light grows, and eventually, before her stands a hopping puppeteer. "Not what I expected," she concedes, "but it will work." And then she begins to break the creature's will, methodically shredding its resistance. It cowers before her in the end. "I need you to retrieve my warbird from the riverbed. You will do this one thing for me, and only this one thing. If you fail me, or attempt to betray me in any way, I will scatter your essence to the five poles. Now go."
She stands on the riverbank and watches as the demon races to do her bidding. She decides that no matter what happens tomorrow, it will have to be better than today. Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.
