Sworded Affair

"Damn it Saint, get off!" Emma swore, hopping on one leg as she attempted to dislodge the cat.

When that didn\'t work, she switched off her intangibility, reaching down with both hands to try and pry Saint off her leg to no avail.

"Never! Pay tribute to your queen!"

[-50 Anima]

Emma felt her ankle give, slivers of black steel shaved clean and turning to wash out red as they fell to the floor. With every swipe, Saint\'s claws tore progressively deeper, in what Emma belatedly realised was a stacking damage buff of some sort.

[Status condition applied: Rust.]

"Let go, before I bury you alive," Emma warned, pressing her leg down to push Saint further into the soil.

The recalcitrant cat lit up, temporarily even more orange than usual, her command over nature bleeding into the soil and draining it of moisture: leaving a layer of brick-hard clay that refused to budge.

"Not until I receive my rightful bounty! I am a Druid, you have no power over the Earth, not to harm me!"

"I warned you," Emma deadpanned, before turning both of them intangible for just a moment, long enough to dead drop to the floor, sinking her leg and Saint alike beneath the surface.

Truth be told, the mechanics of intangibility remained mysterious to Emma even after having access to it for months now. Whilst she\'d always had control over her own state, and her belongings (and also uninvited attachments) followed her own state of being, the floor tended to remain solid whilst walls she wanted to pass through did not, even if they were made of similar materials. Emma had come to realise that the determining factor was largely driven by her own intentions: she didn\'t sink through the floor whenever she activated Ephemera because she didn\'t want to. Well, now she wants to.

[-500 Anima]

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Emma rematerialised, immediately feeling the drain on her sense of self as she lost everything below her left knee, the entire limb swallowed by the ground. It was for this reason that she\'d never turned tangible inside a solid object before, being rightfully wary of the telefrag phenomenon, but Emma supposed there was a first time for everything.

"I can\'t believe you did that!"

Saint burst out of the ground, now soft as silk again; she was entirely unscathed, except for her fur, which looked a lot more brown than orange thanks to a thick coating of dirt.

"You were right, the Earth refuses to harm you," Emma laughed, wishing she had a camera to immortalise the cat\'s dour expression. "Doesn\'t mean it won\'t give you a dirt bath though."

Saint hissed, slapping her tail against the ground in tandem with the roar of thunder.

Wait, thunder?

Emma turned skyward just in time to receive the first deluge, a localised rain cloud right above her head letting loose and drenching both of them. It continued for a good ten seconds, blessing them with water pressure that most modern showers failed miserably to emulate, before cutting off to leave them both thoroughly soaked.

"Really?" Emma couldn\'t help laughing at that, watching as rivulets ran down her armour. "I thought cats hate water."

"I do," Saint sniffed, looking rather waterlogged as well. "But if I\'m going to take a bath, I won\'t do it alone."

"Alright," Emma conceded. "Truce? We still need to prepare dinner, after all; a single piglet won\'t be nearly enough for a family of four."

"Hmph, so be it. A ceasefire is in order," Saint turned her nose up, looking remarkably imperious for a drowned cat, as she waddled her way towards the back door of the house.

"Hey, wait, not on the carpet!" Noah interjected, speaking up for the first time after remaining a silent observer to their brief bout.

As it turned out, the wet cat was pretty hard to grab, and Noah wasn\'t even a physical Class; he failed miserably at keeping Saint at bay, taking a faceful of water for his troubles even as Saint dragged a long trail of water through the living room.

Emma just laughed harder at that, waiting patiently outside for her leg to regenerate.

—

Was there a reason for that? Saint grumbled, silently within her own mind just as the ancestor taught her. I was looking forward to my share of pork trotters.

[Noah won\'t actually withhold food from you; he hasn\'t got it in him. Not for a bit of water that takes only a slight emission of heat to dry out. Besides, I\'d say the rewards were well worth it, wouldn\'t you agree?

[B̵̡̧̖̳̼̹̤̮̤͌̂͒̋͋͋̈͘̚ë̷̡́͊͜ ̴͚̓͑̂̋̾̔̌̈́̋̈̓̿͝ņ̶̧͕̬͕̠̟̻̥̋͌͆̔̔̍̅͋́̏́o̷̮͖̙̜̙͍̙͖͉̯̣̊̆̏̉͌͆̇̃̕͠ṭ̸̬̫̥͈̿͗͘ ̶̧̢̥̤͕̦̟̤͈̮̇̈́̌͊̀̀͜a̴̜̯̯̳̪̥̘̞͐̓͋̓̉̈́͐̑̈͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅf̷̨̢̡͍̠̻̰͈̗̘̟̳͔͉̥̏͝ŕ̶̛̭̥̈́͆̓́̃͒̂̾̋̈́͘ą̴̛̤͖̺̮̘͎̻̰̥̳̓̑̂͛̔̓̐̓̀̿͠͝͝ͅi̵̧̖̹͖̬̽͝ḑ̶̡͚͙͎̘̹̯̹̖͊̈́̈̉̂́̀͗̀͋͘͝͠]

I don\'t know, maybe I could give my opinion if you taught me how to read, Saint replied irritably. The metal one understands me now, so I know you can do it.

[I could, yes, but that wouldn\'t be to your benefit. The rules that govern the System are ironclad, even as its creator, there are limits to how much I can work around them. Enlightened animals are generally considered subordinates, beholden to a human master, rather than true Users. Because of this, the System allows me to offer a significantly higher degree of guidance to you. If I started to teach you the tongue of Man, it might prompt a reclassification, and then all the secrets I\'ve been feeding you fall by the wayside, because a System User is expected to make his own way in the world.]

Never mind then. Which box should I take, and what\'s for dinner?