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Schörl's voice came clear in return, backed by the sound of distant traffic below her position, "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?"

"I'll meet you at the gate of teeth and claws, since we cannot teleport direct to and from the Rift. What do you want to hunt, my ghost? Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral?"

The general had the ease of teleporting directly from the city to the Dark Kingdom space without the fatigue it could cost as a captain. Biding time, even as the Half-youma Captain approached, she spun her cane round knuckles and hand much the way a performing drum major would before turning to conduct a band. The dragon was a little weightier and the rattan a lot less than a comparable major's mace. It would strip flesh more surely, though.

Not ideal for lethal combat, but good for the captured. Good for corrections in the ranks. All not meant for all, I suppose. A small toss and catch, and Schörl turned smartly on heel with a click in incline her head at the approaching officer. For all the formality of it, the General's smile was more a leer. A leer that broke into a cackle as she straightened to approach with thrown wide arms, "Captain Cinnabar, but what a price. All is not for All, but me. I've never chased that kind of tail before. But new things-"

"Yes. New things are always exciting," She leaned to the side, having closed to the other woman, taking in ostensibly the new limb. Then Schörl straightened and offered a jacketed elbow out like escort. "Shall we? "

"Every heart times the day a hundred thousand beats, if you care to count it. But I do have something more mundane," Schörl moved cane to her escort-arm hand and fished a timepiece on chain from some pocket in the folds of coat. "Every uniform has a pocket for you love. Its called your bust."

And they vanished, drawn from Dark Kingdom space to Destiny City. It was one of the many construction sites- steel beams and partial concrete poured floors in the lower reaches that prayed up to the skeletal skies. The General let Cinnabar's arm free from her own, dropping hand sinuously along the curve of tight-clad back. But she grabbed and gave a firm squeeze of tail base instead of backside. "Start running, luv. If I catch you, you won't know if its heaven or hell. We neither like stationary prey. Let's start with a four minute chase. "

The General smiled into being kissed, returning the affection easily, Ambition has been your strongest boon and now your biggest failure. We both understand it. Now we move forward from it with the pieces we have. And see what tempering has come of your metal, if any.

"Red light stop, green light go. " Schörl didn't move right away as Cinnabar flew, over the fencing in a more literal sense then the straightaway. Her awareness stretched to edges for auras great and small. None came to mind immediately, though further on their warmup something could flush out. Her voice came softly to drop to the pave, " Green light stop. Red light-"

"Go."

There was a flash of green and gold. Too rapid hammer of heels and boots for human limbs eating up distance. Aerials were kept limited. One minute gone. While they were fun, tested grace, accuracy and landing, they slowed down pursuit by not providing a constant pushing off ground. Simple physics. Similar-same as calculating velocity to leading a projectile, or looking ahead on a curve to make a turn. So strange to make sound. I am no longer used to it, with Barbary often at my side. On my shoulder as a much more useful cape.

There was Cinnabar, soon, not far away. Two minutes gone. Schörl moved to a higher ground path with a path along small porch outcroppings to rooves, "Faster, Sinner."

"Your feet carry further then before, closing the time between your thoughts and your body's reactions." The General pulled her starseed brooch free from ascot, "Catch before it hits the ground!"

The starseed was sent flying, not on a line with Cinnabars current angle to force a pivot. Not on the same vertical, to force a pathing plan.

Definite A+ in storage location. I don't think there's a more cushioned chest of drawers in the city. All the better to go fishing it out from. The minimal hesitations in choices was equally encouraging. Cinnabar continued on with speed. Three minutes. You didn't hear anything about the time limit ending, so you at least guessed that the chase wasn't over.

Schörl breath came smooth through a smile growing only wider. The temperature didn't matter. They were built of matchsticks, corpses and strings. The distance between closed more, similar to runners on a track than to terrorists on tar sheets and shingle. The Captain was making good use of the cornering logistics of the tail, but not something else very vital to that very act. The tail was very much at extension behind her. A push of will and Schörl made a grab for the limb.

Once you catch the lion by its tail, though, best be prepared not to let go too soon. The other end's the toothy one. 'If she hollers, let her go'- hah. I don't think the game ends out that way.

Schörl's head snapped to the side, abrasion splitting open from impact along her cheek with no doubt a bruise to form in the dark hours of contemplation in the following days. The General didn't let go with the impact, hauling with the momentum of it as shoulders followed face the same as with an animator's tutorial. Pulled sideways and down on the tail in a strange version of being tied together in a knife fight- wrist to posterior limb.

But she didn't look angry at the blow. Far from it, Schörl was smiling.

"Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger, kitten. Thirty seconds."

The General didn't surrender her own balance, bracing and lowering as the hand met her wrist, to Cinnabar's fall back or to the pull forward, didn't surrender hold on the tail. Let the other woman clamber on her a** as she liked, and try for the wisdom of the physics. It was an excellent choice, barring her own balance arts and grounding, and Rank chaos infusion. The double kick was solid, if not a classic response to a hold, but tails weren't usually a part of the equation either.

There was no room, but no need to breathe. We're going to need a little ice, I think.

The release of her wrist was the aim and want though, and Cinnabar obliged. The general shifted hand and wrist on the tail to try to put a Siamese crink in it.

"Ten seconds."