Cloud is worthless, all balled up in the corner of Reale’s window, hugging her knees. It’s no longer a new moon. A slice is visible amongst the stars. Her eyes burn. She’s more lethargic than usual, and she’s not even doing anything. She agreed to spy, but she can’t do that here. She’s useless, just sitting still while the world continues into the night. Well, maybe she can do something, at least. “Reale?” She asks, a tad hoarse.

“Yes?” She asks from her desk, against the same wall as Cloud’s sulking spot.

“About the trade negotiations,” she begins. “The atmosphere was worse than usual.” She taps her finger on her opposite arm, chin resting on both of them. “It’s been festering for years now. What do you think the chances of a war are?” Reale stops whatever she’s doing and considers it. She’s not naive; Reale’s well aware that their countries’ relationship has degraded over the years. More than anyone else, she knows the build up to conflict well.

“That’s more a question for your mother,” she answers. “My parents wouldn’t want to start that fight. The last thing the world needs is for Pace to overtake Frith. The surrounding countries would likely question our authority to do so, and even if we inserted ourselves or another ruler into Frith, it’d likely only cause further conflict. Not to mention the inevitable disaster of managing your colonies. Gods, I can only imagine how we’d address the annexation of Heiwa.” She shakes her head. Not the point. “It’s up to Queen Blaze Spark, I suppose.” Cloud stares at the window, at her reflection.

“Say there was a revolt,” she asks, “some sort of civil war. Do you think your parents would support them?"

"Hm." Reale leans back in her chair and folds her arms. "I'm not sure. They'd have to actually stand a chance. It's more likely than us initiating war, I guess." Someone knocks once on Reale's door before shoving inside without permission anyway. Cloud tenses, a wound-up spring.

"Ehi, Reale, hai ancora tempo stasera?" Reale's brother asks, standing in the doorway and speaking what's essentially nonsense to Cloud. She knows a few words and phrases in Pacian, but her mother never had her learn it. It’s not like there are many books on the language in Frith. "Dovremmo davvero esercitarci-" He halts, holding straight eye contact with Cloud, who has clearly been crying. Reale looks like a deer before you shoot it, comically so. Rinieri, in the moment, decides not to yell for help. Instead, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. He clears his throat. Frithian. Speak Frithian. Whoever decided their language should be universal? The narcissistic knob heads...

"So," he points to Cloud, "what's, uh… What’s going on?"

"Credo che abbiano ucciso la sua ragazza," Reale replies. Rinieri gasps.

"Lady Garden?" He questions, turning to Cloud. Her eyes lower and she turns back to the window, deciding she's probably not in danger. Besides, she can watch his movements from the glass. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Rinieri offers his condolences. She may be Blaze’s daughter, but she’s still a person deserving of compassion. And, well, an old friend, even if Reale was much closer to her. Cloud huddles closer to the wall. Who knows, maybe she'll phase though it and not have to deal with whatever this is. Life, in general. He asks Reale, "I'm guessing that's a no, then?"

"Well. Actually," Reale turns to Cloud. "Do you train when you're upset?" Cloud furrows her brows and turns to the other woman. 

"How do you know that?" 

Reale shrugs. "When we were kids, you used to throw knives or hit things when you needed to work through something." Huh. She guesses that's true. That was before they started training her on swords. Reale’s got a good memory.

"I don't wanna intrude," Cloud says. These two were probably going to go alone. "Besides, I don't want to cause alarm if someone sees me."

"Cloud, I want you to come along," Reale smiles. She'd like to see her do anything, actually. She's barely moved since this morning. "But only if you want to. Nobody should be there. Most people go in the morning or afternoon." Cloud, guarded, uncoils from her position. Her knees pop in protest.

"Okay," she says for some reason. Her back aches when she forces herself up. Reale rises with much more grace. Cloud grabs her swords.

"We should probably teleport there," Rinieri says, "if you're trying to avoid being caught."

"This, by the way, is another great example as to why you should knock," Reale jests, shoving her brother's shoulder once she’s within range.

"Um, I did knock," he declares.

"It doesn't count if you just waltz right in afterwards, stronzo," she snips. Rinieri sticks out his tongue before a flash of deep blue brings him away. Reale rolls her eyes at him and reaches her hand out to Cloud. "Don't mind him. He's an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to tell people you're here." Cloud remembers Rinieri much less than Reale, but if those twins are anything alike, it'll be fine. Violet magic takes them away and onto wooden floors. 

Cloud is pleasantly surprised to see a practice room much like her own. Most of the time she trains with someone else though, so there aren't as many dummies or targets as there are here. It’s also much more of an open space than her own indoor training room is. That makes sense once a purple moonlike crescent forms in Reale's outstretched hand, an equally vibrant arrowlike beam conjuring in her other. For most people, magic gathers along their fingers in a liquid or gaseous-like energy. In Reale’s hands, however, it’s crystalline, casting stained glass reflections upon her skin. The indigo light reflects in her obsidian eyes, sparkling. The arrow releases from her fingers, flying straight into the center of a distant target. Upon contact, the arrow shatters into shimmering, glasslike shards. Cloud stares, mesmerized by the outward effortlessness of it. Reale's arms still flexed as if using a real bow, so Cloud assumes making her own is mostly for convenience rather than ease, but it still must take a lot of skill to conjure! And she made it look so easy! Cloud had previously assumed Reale’s fuller figure was mainly due to how her body carries fat, but some of that’s muscle, isn’t it?

"Hey, use actual arrows!" Rinieri chides. "You know you need to work on using conduits."

"Yeah, yeah, relax. I'm just warming up," Reale retorts. “You say that as if you didn’t nearly take my eye out the last time you used real arrows.” Rinieri grumbles to himself but says nothing more on the topic. A conduit? Why would she want to do that? Mixing magic with physical items decreases the magic’s efficiency. Not to mention, it gives a training-buffer appearance to the user. Whatever, it’s none of her business. That magic version of a physical weapon, though, that seems handy. Cloud draws her katana and feels its weight experimentally. She's no Summer, but maybe she could do something like that. Her hands spark viridescent, the same green surrounding the blade. She grabs the hilt with her other hand and slowly lowers the actual blade. She keeps hold of the phantom blade. A childish wonder shines in Cloud's eyes. Tulip would love this.

A wave of several emotions hits her hard enough for the magic katana to waver and dissipate in a sad little fizzle. Cloud frowns, holding her actual sword up once more. She glances over at the twins again, both beginning their own routines. Cloud's seen Reale do a lot of amazing things with magic through the years, now that she thinks about it. She's also never seen her truly upset. Calm, controlled, kind. That's how Cloud sees her. "Is there a trick to it?" She wonders.

"To what?" Reale asks, turning from her weapon. "The bow?" That’s mostly strength and habit, really-

"No, magic," Cloud clarifies. "In general. I always end up… feeling too much and messing it up when it matters most. I've never seen that happen to you." Reale gives her a quizzical look that brews anxiety in her chest. Was that a stupid thing to ask?

"Did-" she blinks, shaking her head slightly "-Did you never have a magic tutor?" Cloud's face flushes. That answers that question.

"Of course, I did!" She answers. "But he never mentioned anything about emotions beyond telling me to control them. Everybody else seemed to just know what he meant, but I never did. I—never mind, it was just-"

"-Then you had a shitty magic teacher," Reale chuckles. That does not help Cloud's situation. It wasn't the teacher, she knows that. She knows that because she and Summer had the same teacher, and Summer turned out a prodigy! It had to be her. Summer can control her emotions. Heck, she’s mentioned being able to “shut them off” at will. So, how? How is Reale so good at magic if she encourages open expression of emotion? Perhaps that has nothing to do with it, and Cloud’s just not cut out for it. Maybe that’s it. She simply can’t do it. Reale notices Cloud’s reddened face and reels it back. "Well, what's your biggest issue? Maybe Rinieri and I can give you some advice." 

"Well, um," Cloud hesitates. "Fear. I guess. When I'm scared or anxious it just-" she makes a vague gesture by twirling her wrist "-vanishes. Nothing at all."

"Oh, yeah, a common one," Rinieri comments. That problem, Reale knows, is more about addressing the fear itself. If someone doesn’t have enough time to do that though, it makes it easier if they can minimize the physical response to fear.

"This'll sound stupid," she warns, "but you might just need to breathe." Cloud gives her a flat look. "Not, like, in general," she defends. "When you panic, your body needs more air, but breathing too fast can keep you from fully absorbing it. That just makes things worse. Giving it air in a measured, calm way can tame it enough to let you use magic."

"Ah, yes, the four square," Rinieri nods solemnly, standing from their bench to grab some actual arrows.

"Yeah, you breathe in for four seconds, hold it four, release for four, and keep your lungs empty for four. Then, you just start over, and do it until you calm down." It sounds dumb. That said, in Cloud's case specifically, reminding herself that she can take a deep breath in itself might be calming. For years, she couldn’t. "Give it a try next time," Reale instructs, "just to see if it works, if nothing else." Cloud watches as she tosses a quiver of arrows over her shoulder, stands, and fluidly nocks and releases an arrow with an amethyst film around it. A thud sounds when it hits its mark. Cloud brings her sword before her again, deciding to leave the magic for another day. She instead starts a few reps of half cuts.

✦✦✦

The sun rises, and Summer hasn't found Cloud. That said, neither have the Yellow Jackets. Still, Cloud implied it'd be a simple task, but she's not at Martin's, not still at the lieutenant general's, not anywhere. Summer snuck around everywhere, at every palace Blaze's daughter would be welcomed. She's never been more glad to excel at illusion magic. Summer paces the hall outside the dining room. Blaze hadn't mentioned her search, but she could feel her side-eyed glances all through breakfast. Could hear her thinking poorly of her, her disappointment, her criticism. It's only been a night, though. She'll just have to go further down the list. Maybe Cloud's friends with some duke’s kid and Summer’s unaware of it. She'll just have to look harder. She's not a failure, Summer will find Cloud. She has to.