Sometimes It Feels Like It’s Impossible to Continue Forward Under the Weight of the Past and the Demands of the Present, yet I Still Desire to Imagine a World Where I Am Wreathed in Love

The bunnygirl’s litter had almost left the creche by the time she learned how to inhabit her UltraCraft body again, and so it was a very near thing; thankfully, she was able to perform her duty as Herald of Twilight and welcome her offspring into the next stage of their life in Velody.

After the purification of the River Beneath the Sea, the rabbit still possessed the “divine spark,” and the evidence of her newfound divinity changed the foundation of the Velodian religion to the same extent that the city’s vassalization had. Obviating the need for further Heralds, the newly-made goddess instead accepted Estelle as her high priestess, and would eventually pass more of her day-to-day responsibilities to her daughter as she herself became more of a figurehead. While that delegation allowed her more freedom, her adaptation to the Shadow Regalia left her with an alertness in her bunny-body and yet nothing to really do.

Thankfully, Lacey had been by her side. As “Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Medeina Bloodwolf I” had far too much on her plate during that turbulent time, her favourite concubine had been tasked with keeping the rabbit present, both inside and outside UltraCraft. Sometimes that meant the occasional adventure with the Claws of the Wolf, but most of the time the little cow merely accompanied the Herald in her growing role as Velodian diplomat.

Several months passed, and the bunnygirl found a certain sense of pride and delight in watching her little ones mature into respectable young women. While the Champion Regent had instructed her soon-to-be-replacement as well as she was able, Empress Bloodwolf very kindly provided a wolfborn tutor to help round-out Silvermane’s education. Unsurprisingly, the stately woman hailed from Clan Bloodwolf as well, and the nameless girl had to admit that Sapphire did an excellent job of instilling a healthy consideration for the weight of the future Lord Governor’s responsibility to her people.

Estelle and Silvermane rapidly developed into mid-adolescence, which settled much better on the bunny than it did on the young wolf. Estelle was all graceful curves and an elegant bearing, but Silvermane looked very much like a year-old canine in realspace; sporting a very lanky figure with clawed extremities that she had yet to grow into, the wolfborn’s sleekening coat did little to alleviate the visual effect ⸻ though at least her ears and tail stayed properly fluffy.

Having children had proved to be a surprisingly-fulfilling event in her life, and so the Bunny delighted in sharing in their presence, arranging to bring her offspring into her orbit whenever she had gaps in her own official schedule. As often as she could, the nameless woman found excuses to include her daughters in leisure activities that masqueraded as “educational instruction;” so it was that she found herself engaged in playing tiles with Estelle, Silvermane and Lacey, while her own mother and Sapphire looked on.

“Kariss says the divine spark is going to choose my Intercessor very soon,” the young high priestess chattered on like she always did, sinking into her favorite topic: romance. “Do you have any sway over that, Momma?”

“Why do you want to know?” the nameless rabbit laughed, carefully reading through the discarded tiles to ensure she didn’t accidentally deal-in to Lacey’s hand again.

“She wants you to influence the selection process,” Sapphire added from her place next to the former Herald of Light, where she was assisting the elder rabbit in working through some advanced reading lessons. “I’ve caught our priestess expounding on her romantic daydreams to Lady Silvermane on more than one occasion ⸻ and at considerable length, I might add.”

Her little jab earned giggles from the table, and even the nameless woman’s own mother managed a light laugh.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Estelle huffed, appropriating the tile from her sister’s last discard. “I’m almost as tall as my sire, you know. Is it really that wrong to ask for an Intercessor that’s at least a little bigger than me?”

“A smaller mate is just as desirable,” Silvermane countered quietly in her rather understated baritone, gesturing to Lacey with her claw.

“True,” the younger bunnygirl allowed, “but I’ve heard that Momma gets to have a bunch of mates, while I’ll only have the one Intercessor.”

“Right now I just have one mate, too,” the nameless woman corrected, her glance briefly flicking towards her girlfriend.

“For now,” the former Herald of Light chuckled softly, the syllables escaping her lips with a halting pause between them. “Greedy daughter.”

After the Herald of Twilight had begun to restore her own mother’s ability to speak, the two had spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time discussing the nameless woman’s various romantic partners, both evident and aspirational. Understandably, the elder rabbit correctly guessed at the depth of her daughter’s avarice, and the acknowledgement of it in front of her little family added a pink tinge to the bunnygirl’s cheeks.

“What about Sire?” Estelle pouted, retreading the same ground she always did whenever the question came up. “Surely she’d make a wonderful mate, especially since she’s already bred Momma once before.”

“We’ve been over this,” Sapphire spoke up again, reigning in the exuberant girl. “The Champion Regent will have to relinquish both of her principal titles very soon. Her Excellency’s ensuing status would not be fitting for the mate of the Velodian goddess.”

“Mates should be acquired through love,” Silvermane insisted, coming to the defense of her sibling. “Status is for wives and concubines. As long as the Herald’s position is respected appropriately, I see no reason for the two not to be mated.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting I take Genevieve as a concubine,” the nameless woman smiled wryly, believing the young wolf’s statement to be merely a very rare example of her muted style of jests.

“Not that,” the young wolfborn agreed before heading down an unexpected path. “I mean that Empress Bloodwolf should take you both as concubines.” As her offhand statement was met with a giggling fit from the little cow and a very red blush from her mother, her brows furrowed as she tried to infer if they were making fun of her or not. “It’s not something to laugh at. The Champion Regent is a peerless swordmaster, and the Herald of Twilight would make an excellent mate for Her Imperial Majesty. Together, they would increase the reputation of the Den of Eternal Spring considerably.”

While Estelle was very aware of her own parentage, no one associated the name “Herdsplitter” with Empress Bloodwolf, even inside the imperial harem, and that ignorance also extended to Her Imperial Majesty’s offspring. Perhaps it was a kindness to shield her little ones from the rest of the world, allowing the incognito Herdsplitter to spend more time with her pups outside the harem, but the consequence was that Silvermane and everyone around her (save Lacey and the pup’s mother) were unaware of who the young wolf’s sire really was ⸻ and the rabbit couldn’t decide if that made her daughter’s assertion comical, or simply that much more romantic.

Still, Silvermane’s refusal to refer to her as even her “mother” always wedged a sharp knife just a little deeper into her heart.

“Part of Genevie’s skill comes from her titles as Champion and Intercessor,” the motherly rabbit pointed out, burning red all the way from her shoulders to the tips of her ears as she guided the conversation away from her involvement with the empress. “She will lose those boosts when she passes her titles to her successor.”

“Elder wolves have the longest fangs,” the young woman rejoined, quoting a wolfborn aphorism as she regretfully discarded another copy of the same high-scoring tile.

“Sire will still have the strongest sword-arm in the world, even without her titles,” Estelle gloated in agreement, puffing her chest out with pride. “Well, except for my Intercessor,” she added with a dreamy sigh, imagining her perfect romantic companion.

“I fear for the young woman the divine spark will select,” Sapphire said teasingly. “We can only hope that she will be able to meet the demands of such a fussy priestess.”

“I’m not fussy,” the younger bunnygirl huffed, reaching across the table to steal her mother’s discarded tile.

“Romantic,” the eldest rabbit offered in her drawn-out timbre, spoiling her grandchild.

“Exactly!” Estelle confirmed enthusiastically, beaming at her grandmum. “I’m a dreamer, just like Momma.”

“Hopefully you’re a little more grounded than that,” Lacey piped-up as she grabbed her final tile from the nameless rabbit’s discards. “It would be quite the disaster if you end up just as absent-minded as your mum.” Revealing her hand as she flipped her tiles down with a loud clack, she flashed her girlfriend an impish grin. “Full flush, full straight.”

“Surely she won’t be that bad,” the motherly rabbit grumbled, forking over a depressing number of points to the little cow in the form of small, carved sticks. “As long as I remain the Lineage holder, I don’t think she has anything to fear from a few idle daydreams.”

Of course Lacey had been talking about something completely different, but the prophetic dreams still weighed on the bunnygirl’s mind. Now that she bore the Shadow Regalia, it was a fairly simple thing for her to interfere with the storyteller AI ⸻ and in many ways, she had become the storyteller herself ⸻ but she still held quite a bit of apprehension when it came to her oracular ability. As spread-out as she was across UltraCraft, she had once again returned to a state of constant sleeplessness, but the chance that her nightmares might bleed into reality was a scar that would stick with her for a very, very long time.

Really, Estelle wasn’t the daughter that she was worried about, either. The pregnancy system had given the bunny a very balanced mix of her parents, both in terms of ability and personality, and so her gregarious nature could shine through without the more reserved hesitation that her mother or sire might possess. Silvermane, however, wasn’t so lucky; as the beneficiary of both the Bloodwolf and Velodian Herald Lineages, her blessings compounded on top of her immense base stats, some of which even exceeded her parents’ own. While that significant power level might ensure her physical safety, it exacerbated the overwhelming sense of dread responsibility that gripped the young wolf; laid atop her unfortunately-inherited pessimism, the pup’s self-worth was diametrically opposed to her skillful abilities.

Part of that, the bunnygirl knew, was her fault. No matter how she tried to assure her litter that she loved them, Silvermane still believed that she had done something to slight her mother when she was in the creche, and it kept her from becoming as close to her mother as her sister had managed. Furthermore, her sire’s obscured identity gave her significant pause; some less-charitably-inclined spectators believed that the pup was the offspring of an unsavory bandit warlord from the time of the Herald's capture on the surface, and Silvermane had taken that rumor very personally.

Try as she might, the rabbit found it exceedingly difficult to rid her daughter of her burgeoning imposter syndrome.

The game continued for a few more rounds until its eventual conclusion, with Silvermane barely sneaking the win out from underneath Lacey; the Herald of Twilight, thoroughly bested by her daughters, nevertheless gave them both tight hugs before Sapphire escorted them away to their next appointments.

“You need to stop letting them win,” Lacey advised her as she clung to the bunnygirl’s arm, walking alongside her as they wandered around the streets of Velody, accompanied by the Champion Regent.

“There’s no harm in throwing a few hands,” the nameless woman replied, waving away the petite girl’s concern. “You know how pouty Estelle gets when she starts losing games.”

“All the more reason to withhold mercy,” Genevieve argued, concerned for her daughter’s upbringing. “It’s better for her to learn how to handle defeat now, while she’s still young.”

“Surely there’s a dozen more people who could teach her that,” the rabbit pouted. “I’m her ‘Momma,’ right? I should be allowed to spoil my child.”

“Not when that child is the high priestess of Velody,” the taller bunny chided, reprimanding the nameless woman for something that she had thought was relatively-harmless duplicity. “You have to be more circumspect. Save the spoiling for special occasions, like birthdays.”

Frowning, the bunnygirl let out a frustrated sigh. “Every day I get to see her is a special occasion,” she muttered, annoyed at being chastised. “Do you understand? I was this close to being completely absent from her life.”

And even then, she grumbled to herself, I still missed too much of it already.

Her first steps as the Pandemonium Dragon had been incredibly difficult, and she still held reservations about how she’d handled it. While she didn’t regret her gift to the former Herald of Light, every time she saw the apprehensive look on Silvermane’s face as her pup fretted over her behavior around her mother, the nameless woman berated herself for the anxiety she’d left her litter with.

“I know, my love,” Genevieve relented, the tone of her broken voice softening slightly. “I, too, am grateful for every moment that we can spend together. I am simply cautious about our kit’s future.”

“Perhaps it’s best that you don’t push too hard,” Lacey suggested, politely reigning-in the taller rabbit’s criticism. “Any more and she’s likely to cry over her miserable ‘wife and mother’ anxiety.”

“That’s not fair, Lace,” the bunnygirl complained, shooting her a look of betrayal as the shortstack echoed her apprehensive lines. “You can’t blame me for that, okay? It’s not like I had a very hopeful past.”

“Isn’t that why we’re out here?” the little cow countered, pushing back against the rabbit’s tendency towards melancholy. “You two are supposed to be showing me around your ‘childhood’.”

After the grief had been dispelled from the surface of Pandemonium, the space-bunny society had once again started to expand beyond the walls of the city. As a consequence of the bunnygirl’s gift to her mother, the breadth of her and Genevieve’s “past” had similarly grown whenever they featured in the elder rabbit’s memories. Indulging the Empress’s concubine, the Champion Regent and her Herald had agreed to a walking tour of the city, guiding her through their constructed reminiscence.

To the outside observer, it might have seemed like a sort of perverse delusion, but the bunnygirl had lost so much of her realspace past that she felt as though she were owed the memories of a happier life. Lacey happened to agree, and she encouraged the rabbit to unburden herself of whatever she could.

For her part, Genevieve was thrilled to have more to share with her love, of course, but her entanglement with the Herald had been somewhat more complete than Herdsplitter had let on. Whenever the issue of the bunnygirl’s memories arose, the nameless woman could spot a fretful frown on the other woman’s face, as her Intercessor struggled with the question of how many of those archived experiences she should return.

Pretending to ignorance, the nameless rabbit distracted herself with the world around her.

Wandering around the West Gate, the trio had come across the last of the repairs that Mordax’s assistance had mandated. While much of the citizenry was appropriately thankful for the dragon’s help in liberating Velody, it was undeniable that she had caused significant damage with her mere presence, much less her powerful acidic breath or the swipes of her massive tail.

Hundreds of craftworkers had come together to return the city to its proper state; an interesting mix of NPCs and players, some of the workers had even been commissioned by Empress Bloodwolf herself. Velody had, of course, paid an indemnity to the Alliance of the Three Queens, but Herdsplitter had very quietly returned everything she’d received from the city’s treasury in the form of supplies, labour, and other gifts to the space-bunnies.

Though the nameless woman still possessed an aggressive drive to participate in the more action-oriented portions of the world, she had a respect and fondness for the other lifestyles that UltraCraft allowed. Many players had decided to forgo combat skills altogether, devoting their time to training in specialized occupations like stone-working or carpentry or textile artistry, all of which was on display in her city.

Climbing up one of the tall walls that made up Velody’s defenses, the three women looked out across the glittering streets, enjoying the slight breeze that slithered through the crenellations of the parapet. The city spread out beneath them in all its beauty, alive with the distant silhouettes of thousands of citizens and the steadily-increasing visitor traffic.

“Gené and I used to come up here all the time,” the Herald smiled, fondly recalling the experience. “Twilight looks amazing from up here, obviously, but we’ve had more than one picnic whenever we thought we could get away with it.”

“Which became less and less often, later in our adolescence,” Genevieve continued, a wistful smile on her face. “Frankly, I’m surprised we were even up here at all, on account of the goddess’s fear of heights.”

“The wall’s really broad!” the rabbit whined, shooting an irritated glare at her Intercessor. “It’s not like I’m going to fall off something so wide, okay? I’m scared of like, the edge of stuff.”

“And rollercoasters,” Genevieve added.

“And rollercoasters,” the bunnygirl allowed. “Or most theme park rides, really.”

“Even the little spinny-saucers?” Lacey asked innocently, mischief lingering in her eyes.

“If you make them turn fast enough,” the rabbit shrugged. “Though it’s not really fear so much as nausea at that point.”

“Well then rollercoasters and tea cups aside,” the bimbo teased, “it’s adorably-ridiculous to imagine a dragon that’s afraid of heights.”

“We exist,” the bunnygirl huffed, though her tone was more playful than genuine dismay. “There’s not a lot of flying to be done beneath the sea.”

No one was really certain as to how much of the Pandemonium Dragon was literal or figurative, and the rabbit herself was disinclined to provide concrete answers. That silence only fed the mystery, of course, but it was part of the fanciful charm that floated in the background of UltraCraft; part of the romance of the world was the idea that so much of it was still uncharted, with surprise and adventure waiting to be discovered just over the next hill. Naturally, the mystique of such a dragon was eminently-attractive ⸻ in more aspects than one, if the way her little mother bit her lip at the mention of the bunnygirl’s draconic form was any indication.

Artisans and labourers passed by the trio as they ferried stone and tools along the wall, carefully reconstructing the fortifications that had been shattered when the tides of Grief had poured into Velody. Recognizing the Champion Regent and the Herald ⸻ and, more often than not, the brilliantly-talented if somewhat dense little idol ⸻ many stopped briefly to offer polite bows of acknowledgement, or more heartfelt-thanks to the Velodian goddess for her purification of the cyclical blight.

As embedded into the inner-workings of UltraCraft as she was, the bunnygirl could identify what size matrix each NPC possessed on-sight, as well as distinguish between player-mode characters in a similar, instantaneous manner. Despite that, she still saw every citizen or visitor as their own unique person, and she hoped to always hang onto that passive personification; there was a tendency for her to reduce everything in a game into numbers and systems, thus robbing herself of the fantasy of the world, but UltraCraft had become more and more of a home than merely a leisure activity.

Despite everything she had sacrificed and all the pieces of herself that she’d lost, she was eternally indebted to Herdsplitter for collaring her. Her transition to the game world hadn’t been easy, and she’d suffered terrible pain all throughout, but even that simple moment of sitting idle with her loved-ones was a precious gift; for the first time, she belonged somewhere, surrounded by a family and community, and filled with hope and dreams for her space-bunny city.

It was a wonderful feeling to have, and she clutched it tightly to her chest, cradling it with both hands.

“It’s rather romantic, don’t you think?” Lacey had been saying, kicking her feet as they dangled over the edge of the tall structure. “Watching the sun dip down over the walls.”

“Very much so,” the bunnygirl agreed, a wistful smile on her face. “Now you know why we spent so much time up here.”

Of course, those memories of teenage trysts were entirely fabricated, but that didn’t make them any less “real” to the Herald and her Intercessor. As long as they both shared in those stories, then they were just as true as anything else.

Slipping an arm around the smaller bunnygirl’s waist, Genevieve wordlessly claimed possession of her lover. The tension in her fingers was obvious, as was the source of the other woman’s apprehension, but the rabbit played at ignorance just the same.

“As long as we are speaking of romance, my love,” the paladin began hesitantly, a soft consideration suffusing her broken timbre, “I have a few words on the subject.”

A bright smile overtook Lacey’s features as the little cow pretended that she was only ornamentation, despite how strongly she focused on the conversation. The bunnygirl found her enthusiasm charming, and the way everyone allowed her to blend into the background was fairly comical; perhaps Kariss and her priestesses had the right of it, and Lacey really was her pet.

“I suppose this is such an occasion to hear them,” the rabbit allowed, turning pink despite her best efforts to remain composed.

“I suspect you already know what they are,” the taller woman murmured, her gaze having long left the horizon to settle instead on the beauty of her lover.

“I can imagine, yes,” the nameless woman answered, hiding her blush inside an impish smirk. “Estelle has been debating the issue with almost every breath; perhaps every second word is about her sire and her mother.”

“And the other half she spends fantasizing about her own Intercessor,” Genevieve chuckled, delaying the question of her affection.

“Just so,” the smaller rabbit nodded.

Carefully, as though asking permission, the paladin took her love by the hand; despite the calm sincerity of the gesture, she still warred within herself, stuck at the edge of asking for what she truly desired.

“What are we really doing here, Gené?” the bunnygirl asked, searching her Intercessor’s bright blue eyes.

“I had thought to ask for your hand, my lady,” her knight began, offering her a crooked smile so reminiscent of her wolfish predecessor. “For our own happiness, of course, but pleasing the whims of our daughter would similarly delight me.”

“And surely you understand why I might refuse,” the nameless woman deflected, concealing her true feelings.

“I am aware of the complications, yes,” the paladin sighed, letting her disappointment hiss between her teeth. “As a lifelong servant of Velody myself, I find your commitment to our people to be just as endearing as it is vexing.”

Of course the bunnygirl’s heart burned with adoration for her Intercessor, but the cultures of her world mattered very much to the nameless woman. Sapphire had already outlined (repeatedly, in great detail) all the reasons why an officially-acknowledged relationship between the two would only complicate the Velodian political sphere, and both women took those consequences very seriously. The remaking of the Herald into the goddess of Pandemonium was a sort of windfall for Velody, but the visibility of that divinity demanded social isolation. An Intercessor's feelings for her priestess were only to be expected, but the acceptability of that adoration was built on the transience of the divine spark; the permanence of the goddess was under close scrutiny after the recent invasion and restructuring of the city, leaving the Herald’s public life far more restricted than it once was ⸻ especially given player interest in the new “end-game zone.”

Still, the paladin’s avarice was not so easily foiled.

“If I cannot possess you as my wife,” Genevieve continued, a fierce need lingering on her tongue, “then I will deign to become your mistress.”

“You want to be my mate that badly?” the rabbit questioned, both mirth and trepidation in her voice.

“Very dearly,” the paladin murmured, eyes glittering with artless longing. “How could I not wish to share in my love’s pack?”

It was yet another example of how wolfborn values had bled into Genevieve’s personality, seeping into her matrix from both Herdsplitter’s framework and the influences of the future Lord Governor. Silvermane and Sapphire had slowly pulled Velody towards a mixture of space-bunny and wolfborn ideals, blending it in the same manner as the shared creche. Perhaps that hadn’t been the express goal of Empress Bloodwolf, or even something that she’d want given how dedicated she was to preserving the unique identities of those who lived underneath her rule, but the effect itself was a normal part of living and growing cultures ⸻ doubly-so for the city on Pandemonium, as it was still progressing through its larval phase, far-less solidified than somewhere like Ferzia or Montagne.

Maybe that was why Herdsplitter had advised her to become a diplomat in the face of Velody's exposure to the world stage; if other influences were going to bleed into the space-bunny city, then she should return the favor by spreading Velody’s own artistic contributions.

With astonishing consistency, the wolf’s designs unfolded around the rabbit, enriching her life through the simple act of living it. Her lapine protector, her wonderful home on the moon, the intriguing outside world ⸻ all of it had been carefully arranged, and the nameless woman could feel Herdsplitter’s invitation swimming around and through the currents of UltraCraft.

“Come play,” her wolf had seemed to say, offered in the devotion of her pack and the love of those dear to her.

“Then, as my mate,” the bunnygirl laughed brightly, accepting the myriad gifts of everyone who cared for her, “would you like to retire with me to my chambers, and perhaps sample my pet cow?”

“I could go for another taste,” the paladin grinned back, eyeing the squirming idol. “My lady’s pleasure is my own.”

“Let’s hurry along, little mother,” the rabbit giggled, turning her gaze to her petite girlfriend as she made to rise, “and Gené and I can show you exactly what our early passions were like.”

Several hours and a handful of instant-hygiene consumables later, the sated Champion Regent left the Herald’s chambers to return to her duties, and the cowgirls similarly came to collect the much-fuller Lacey for the little cow’s regular milking. Naturally, the nameless woman had thought about going along with either group, but Herdsplitter had chosen to make a surprise appearance, leading her Beloved back to her solarium.

Proposing both a game and constructive gain in the same activity, the wolf had asked her rabbit to recount the history of the city, expounding upon the present that she had already given to her mother. As rushed as the Empress Bloodwolf was with all the demands on her time, the material value of such a tale would serve as currency in the broader world of political and artistic exchange, and so Herdsplitter felt like she could get away with providing her bunnygirl with her uninterrupted attention for a few hours ⸻ and the promise of many more.

Still, telling a tale wasn't such simple work.

“Is it really alright to leave the genesis of Velody mired in such … like, I don’t know, mythical fog or whatever?” Nibbling on both the thought and the end of her pen, the rabbit deliberated over how much of the story to chronicle.

“Surely it’s the same in your own world,” Herdsplitter began, casually displaying the lengths of her research into realspace. “I’ve read a hundred accounts of the creation of the planet or a specific tribe, and they all trend towards murky legends ⸻ and besides, too many concrete specifics can do more harm than good.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be prudent to hamstring the storyteller AI with such strict fact-weaving,” the bunnygirl acquiesced, playing to her more romantic ideals. “I can’t say I’m particularly thrilled to journal the near-present, though, either.”

“And why not?” the wolf asked, dragging a chair closer to where the goddess was sitting at the small table.

“On account of all of the other Heralds,” she answered regretfully, brows furrowing in concern as she recalled the horrific fate of all the women who had gone before her. “Is it really necessary for me to slog through such cyclical horror?”

“You’ve done it enough in your own life,” Herdsplitter said easily, gracefully alluding to the rabbit’s penchant for self-debasement ⸻ well, former penchant, they both hoped.

“Okay, sure,” she huffed, rolling her eyes, “but we’re talking about my family, right? Like, my mother, and her mother, and her mother and so on.” Shoulders slumping, she rested her arms on the table, propping herself up. “I want to write a happy story.”

“Can joy not be found in the midst of tragedy?” the wolf asked, posing a philosophical question that seemed to be slightly more leading than just a rhetorical exercise.

“I don’t know,” she replied, finding it easier to speak her genuine thoughts aloud in the presence of her deepest crush. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with joy, and certainly not historically.”

Most of her past had been wiped clean, of course, but her trauma had been etched onto the parchment of her skin, a hundred-thousand lines of hate scrawled a layer above her muscle and bone. Even if she couldn’t remember the precise details, the horrors of what she’d experienced still lived inside ⸻ and always would. No matter how strong or how ancient the Pandemonium Dragon grew to be, the nothing would exist within her core as a foundational part of herself.

But maybe that’s what Herdsplitter’s trying to tell me, the rabbit mused, turning it over in her thoughts. She suffered too, after all, and yet she still manages to find delight in her mate and her pack.

“Perhaps you should focus on the lives of your predecessors,” the amazon proposed, “and not their deaths. Certainly, there is meaning to be found in the latter, but that doesn’t mean we have to wallow in it.”

“I suppose,” the bunnygirl relented, submitting to the wolf’s gentle guidance. “Still, that’s placing their narratives directly in my hands, is it not?”

“Narratives that wouldn’t exist without you, yes,” Herdsplitter reminded her, implacably warring against the bunnygirl’s bitter nature.

“You know what I mean,” she snipped back, a familiar frustration in her words. “It’s one thing to chronicle the history of a city, and another entirely to shape the story of an actual person. Who am I to say how they felt, or what they thought ⸻ or who they loved?”

She, too, had once been terrified of surrendering the meaning of her life to posthumous interpreters. Were it not for the implied immortality of her loved-ones, she might have found it much harder to descend into the River Beneath the Sea ⸻ and that had already been an enormous task as it was. Sure, the women she’d be writing about wouldn’t be “real” in the strictest sense, having lived and died on the page alone, but that didn’t lessen the importance of their existence, or the impact those recounted lives would have on the world around her and the people who would read her words.

It was an impossible responsibility, and she grappled with the weight of it.

“Then you should write their loves as strongly as you can,” the wolf advised somberly, easily wiping away the smaller woman’s burdens. “That is the privilege of the present, isn’t it? Promises for the future are impermanent, but what remains around us now is ours to shape; whether or not we can see the love that surrounds us, it exists only as we choose to accept it.”

As dense as she was, the bunnygirl understood that while Herdsplitter’s words were about the Heralds, there was one priestess that she cared for far more deeply than the rest.

“Then I should ensure that their Intercessors were all chivalrous paladins,” the nameless woman smiled, holding her lover’s gaze. “If their loves are so brief, then I will spark the flames of their passions as brightly as I dare.”

“Remember that this is a historical account,” the wolf laughed, her eyes glistering with a playful affection. “Perhaps you should pull back just before the pornographic details.”

“And deny my forebearers their right to the entirety of their romances?” she scoffed, half in jest and half in profound seriousness. “I won’t cheapen such a beautiful fuckbunny culture by obscuring the most-important parts. Denying one aspect of love is to devalue the entire thing ⸻ and I’m not going to repeat the ‘and they were roommates’ vibes of my own contemporary scholars.”

“I’m merely reminding you of the sensibilities of the wider public,” Herdsplitter returned, amused by her Beloved’s fierce sincerity.

“And the wider public can go fuck itself,” the rabbit persisted. “I already have to clean up one puritanical world; I would prefer not to make the same mistake with this one.”

Ultimately, it was a stupid thing to fight over, but it felt meaningful to the nameless woman. Undoubtedly someone would edit and disseminate a more “tasteful” version of her history, and to some extent she had no control over that ⸻ or she shouldn’t, since the powers of the Pandemonium Dragon certainly extended far beyond even that ⸻ but the tale of Velody was hers to tell, regardless of how it would be received. As a woman who had spent the majority of her life being controlled, repressed, and abused over who she was and who she loved, she had no desire to conform to the standards of the world that had allowed such misery.

“If anyone doesn’t want to know how stacked and ripped the average Intercessor is,” she continued, a fire blazing in her ruby-red eyes, “then they can simply leave the cover closed.”

“Well-said,” Herdsplitter chuckled, sliding closer to her rabbit until their hips bumped together. Wrapping a possessive arm around the smaller girl’s waist, her breath was hot against her lover’s skin. “And I hope that your dedicated expression doesn’t simply end at the Intercessors, either.”

“Of course not,” the bunnygirl purred, gently sliding the manuscript away from herself as she leaned into her lover’s touch. “If I’m going to tell the whole story of Velody, then naturally I’ll include the salacious affair between the Empress Bloodwolf and her ‘future mate’.”

“Sounds scandalous,” the wolf growled, nipping at exposed skin with her gorgeous teeth. “And how does that section go?”

“Terribly,” she gasped as familiar fangs sank into her flesh. “It’ll be a hundred pages of flowery and fawning romance before the author becomes lost in prurient descriptions of the Empress’s rippling muscles.”

Undoing the vise of her jaws, the Empress lapped at the sparkling red. “And a similar dissertation on her considerable length, I should hope,” Herdsplitter chuckled, tearing at her belt in order to free the definite article.

“Some critics might even decry it as ‘depraved worship’,” the lustful goddess snickered, the sweet sound melting into an erotic refrain as the wolf helped herself to the rabbit’s curves.

Inventing lurid prose of lascivious intent, the authoress and her editor succumbed to their intimate desires, the evidence of which echoed down the corridors of the temple.