The Glory of Creation

Artistic creation

Events had inarguably progressed from strange to stranger within the dream-woven walls of Skyhold. Yet Matsumoto Ooawagaeri remained unperturbed. He leaned over to Bedivere, the only other bastion of sanity in this place, and spoke from the corner of his mouth under the mask. "Has it been like this the whole time you've been here?"

The dame shrugged, watching Princess Masamune continue to orate on the balcony above. "Yeah, pretty much. I came this way because I heard another Knights of the Siege had passed through the Dreamlands rift, but somehow ended up in this weird contest."   That sounded rather similar to what Ooawagaeri himself had experienced. Although, the erstwhile Black Blade's motivations for entering Mutsu Province were somewhat different. His eyes turned up with an unseen smirk. "This is the sixth or seventh Masamune I've seen."   As though summoned by his errant words, Date Snake Masamune and Date☾Masamune tumbled through the gates and into Skyhold proper. The heavy wooden doors closed behind them, sealing the whole motley mess of Hashinara, Hyakki Yagyō, and Date together within the walls.   "Hm. I suppose we've arrived...somewhere," the former said, looking about with his sightless eyes.   "What in the blazes is this place?" the latter demanded, obviously more shaken than her companion.   "Oh, you're here! That's good," Ooawagaeri greeted them both.   Before any of the three could say more, the ground suddenly began to shudder beneath their feet. Throwing up a great cloud of plaster dust, the fountain in the square's center trembled as it began to descend on some hidden mechanism. In its place, a fancy wooden stage erected itself. Long banners displaying the Date Clan's emblem unfurled and tinny music began to play from somewhere nearby.   "Now!" the Eternal Princess proclaimed, "Who will be the first to entertain me?"   Matsumoto Ooawagaeri would not be where he was now if he didn't know when to go with the flow of a situation. Having listed his talent as "sculptor" on the entrance form, he set about looking for some water with which to ply his art. The fountain was still down there, apparently, in a hollow beneath the stage. As he sneaked water through the slats under his magical control, more poured forth to replace it in a seemingly limitless supply. While he'd been so distracted, however, another performer had taken up the stage.   The twenty-foot skeleton Ooawagaeri had glimpsed before in the crowd now kneeled on a cushion large enough for its knobble knees. It waved an enormous fan theatrically through the air, clacking it shut as it delivered some lame punchline about a cat and her daughter. Princess Masamune did not appear amused. "Next!" she shouted. The skeleton skulked off the stage without further comment.   As he swirled the water he'd gathered around himself, Ooawagaeri felt an armored elbow nudge into his ribs. "You want to go next, or should I?" Bedivere asked.   "I'll let you go first," he answered. A thousand possibilities roiled in his mind, yet one shone brighter than the others in its artistic perfection.   Without hesitation, Bedivere climbed onto the stage and began to sing a ballad. The words were harsh and clumsy in her native tongue of English. Yet the song itself was beautiful, delivered by the dame in a brazen voice full of conviction. Princess Masamune leaned over the balcony, delighted. "Good, good, very good!" As the song wound to a close, her expression darkened into a scowl, cast at the performers yet to make their attempt. "You'd better impress me if you want to beat that."   Ooawagaeri would take that challenge.   Magical storm clouds began to darken and roil above Skyhold as the masked man took the stage. A pattering of rain fell through the courtyard, although no drops appeared to actually strike the Princess. Indeed, they were changing direction as quickly as they fell, zipping through the air to gather around Ooawagaeri and obey his preternatural control. Waving his hands to and fro, he called the water together to form a solid, cubic block. Then, the outside of it froze in a flash. Like a chunk cut from a glacier, it loomed solidly over the audience. Yet, even to their distant eyes, it was obvious something intricate was happening within. Princess Masamune leaned over the railing with wide eyes...   Theatrically, Ooawagaeri reached out his hand and materialized a simple hammer within it. He tapped the corner of the cube a single time, while releasing the spells he'd cast. Cracks split across the thing's surface in a spiderweb before, just as a lance of sunlight split the clouds above, the exterior fell away in a splash of water.   There, illuminated by the cold northern sun, stood a rime-forged Aotsuki Tsukamoto, his beautiful features rendered perfectly in sharp, crystalline ice. Standing proudly with one arm brought to his chin, a contemplative expression on his face, he wore not a shred of clothing over his flawless body. That is, except for one place. A shimmering fig leaf, carved from the same ice as the rest, positioned itself just right to preserve Aotsuki's dignity.   A hushed silence fell over the crowd in Skyhold.   Then, Hitotsume-nyūdō brought her massive claws together in a slow clap. One after another, the rest of the crowd took up the applause. Even the Princess offered a short round in respect.   The ruckus cut short abruptly as a small figure, cloaked and hooded, jumped upon the stage and kicked Aotsuki in his perfect shin. The sculpture shuddered...but held. Silence reigned as Ooawagaeri stood on one side and Hakutaku on the other, facing each other with the sculpture between them. Then, the other whipped her cloak to the side and revealed, as if by magic, a simple table and two seats. Upon the wooden surface stood a mighty jug, condensation beading on its surface, and two cups.   "I thallan... Challenge you, masked man!" Hakutaku's characteristic lisp, absent to this point, raided her speech for a moment before vanishing once again.   "Challenge?" Ooawagaeri appeared nonplussed. "What sort of challenge?"   "A drinkin' challenge, of course." Hakutaku made a sweeping gesture encompassing the vessels on the table. "Pick your poison, buster."   The slightest smile quirked one of Ooawagaeri's eyes up at the side. "Surprise me."   With a fluid motion, Hakutaku slid one of the cups across the table. Coming to rest just in front of Ooawagaeri, he could see its contents clearly for the first time. The thing was brimming with ice-cold milk.