Honey B Hollow

“Your support means the world to me, everyone!”

The woman known as Honey B. Lovely gave one of her signature lines to the crowd as her opponent fell - some Tonawawtan kid that went down like a ton of bricks, she didn’t know his name and didn’t care to.  Her audience ate it up, of course - her fans adored her (sometimes to her chagrin) and she lived for the roaring cheers and the flashing lights all focused on her.  Granted, Metem had to set up the simulacra like usual, so it wasn’t quite the same as outside the arena, but she still gave them a wave and saw the glowsticks waving amongst the stands.

It wasn’t until the match subsided and she retreated to her dressing room - also appropriately wasp-themed - that she flopped into her chair, shoulders slumping as the sounds of her fans outside the door became nothing more than background noise.  She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to ignore the hollow feeling she had in her chest.  Their adoration was fantastic, but it was never enough.  Something was always missing, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but whatever it was had been beyond her reach for a long time and only left an empty feeling within her that she couldn’t shake, that clung to her like a burr.

She almost didn’t notice the door open, her Eldite manager waltzing in like he didn’t have a care in the world, deep midnight hair draped around his shoulders and a pair of shaded spectacles on his face that he quickly moved up to see his client better.

“Honey Bee, darling, that was fantastic as usual!” said the Eldite, a wide grin on his face.  Honey B sighed, turning to look at him.

“If you say so, Obsidian,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly.  Obsidian’s smile faltered, replaced with a look of concern.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sugar bug?”  he asked, to which Honey B shook her head, donning a small smile.

“Nope, I’m just tired, that’s all.  It’s been a long day, you know?”  This excuse seemed to be enough for the Eldite, whose grin returned with gusto.

“Oh, don’t I know it!” he said with a laugh.  “I totally understand, with how well you did in that match today I don’t blame you for being exhausted! Why that reminds me of something that happened just the other day…”

Honey B let the babble wash over her as he went on about some kind of thing he did with someone or other.  She knew better than to stop Obsidian when he got like this; the man was a regular chatterbox, and usually nothing short of the King of Resolve showing up at his front door would stop him.  

On any other day, she'd be content to just let it happen.  She might even be convinced to join into the babble, exchanging gossip with her raven-haired manager.  Today, however...

“Hey, Sid?” Honey B said suddenly, cutting Obsidian off mid-rant.  “How’s about I take the rest of the day off?”

“Huh?”

“It's been a day, remember?  I just need some time to recharge, that's all.” A half-lie - truth be told this was a day she couldn't stand to be around her fans.  She couldn’t put her finger on *why*, but she got the feeling that if she had to cater to another batch of yellow-wearing fanatics today she was going to go insane, and she couldn't afford to have her facade break in public, much as they might piss her off. 

Obsidian's brows furrowed, and Honey B gave a reassuring, tired smile in response.  “I promise I'll be right as rain tomorrow, Sid,” she said, resisting the urge to go the extra mile and bat her lashes at him. Thankfully she didn’t need to today, because Obsidian nodded, his smile returning.  

“Alright, sugar bug,” he said genially.  “I’ll reschedule your meetups for next week, m’kay?  Go rest up!~” With that he donned his shades again and sashayed out of the room, the door closing behind him to leave Honey B with her thoughts.  She let out a sigh and leaned back against her chair.

Just gotta rest for a while, and then I can recharge and be back tomorrow.  It’ll be fine!

…Right?

Many years later…

Honey B Lovely stood in the shade of the walkway leading into the arena of the Arcadion, faintly hearing the cheers of the audience proxies in the stands.  The Arcadion itself had been shuttered for years, ever since Zoraal Ja, the King of Resolve, had banned the use of feral souls outside of military use, which meant that she was out of practice for a while.  Sure, her main gig as a songstress kept a roof over her head and food on her table in addition to her regular luxuries, but it wasn’t the same.  It lacked that thrill that she enjoyed out of the fights.

Ignoring the mental reminder that the Arcadion still didn’t do anything for that hollow feeling in her chest, she psyched herself up and stepped out, giving her usual waves and grandstanding to the audience proxies.  As usual, they ate it up - the roar became almost deafening at her smile alone.  She was a conductor, and the audience her captive orchestra, creating a symphony of whistles and cheers, all for her.

She drew a few more cheers from her audience before sparing a glance at her opponent.  Or, rather, opponents, she realized as a look of surprise replaced her usual saccharine smile, her gaze falling on a group of…five people?  

It took her a moment before her smile returned as she remembered that yes, Metem had mentioned she’d be fighting more people than usual since these folk didn’t wear regulators.  Two Shetona - the taller orange-haired woman she saw in the locker rooms earlier, and a rather grizzled older man with a sword and a shield - a shorter, darker woman with horns and a book, a pale Hhetsarro man with daggers strapped to his waist, and…

Her gaze stopped at their last member:  A shorter Hhetsarro woman with deep blue eyes to match her azure dress.  Raven hair, dyed blue at the tips.  War quoits strapped to her shockingly alluring waist, attached to an equally shocking pair of attractive legs that wore a set of thighboots.  A small breeze blew through from the air conditioning units surrounding the arena, carrying a faint scent of lavender from the woman across from Honey B.

The Hhetsarro woman noticed her staring and offered a smile, one unlike the ones Honey’s fans usually sent her way - kind, friendly, devoid of any kind of the kind of fervor she usually expects, or the simpering that she usually sees on Obsidian.  It made her heart skip a beat, lit a fire in her chest that filled that void.

Honey B Lovely smirked at the group, at her, as she activated her feral soul, feeling her body change, enlarging, developing wasp-like features.  She pointed her lance at the group, more specifically at the Hhetsarro woman.

"I'll make you mine."

Some time after she awoke in her room, Honey B Lovely, well known idol and songstress, known for being as sweet as her namesake in public, shrieked with rage as she slammed her fists on her vanity, knocking over several makeup containers.  Her hands shook as they gripped the edges of the vanity, breathing heavily in an attempt to contain her fury.

The fight had started predictably enough - the group was struggling to deal with her poison initially, causing the horned girl (who was evidently their healer) to work overtime, giving Honey B a chance to use her pheromones while she was distracted.  That was the true secret behind her feral soul:  to her knowledge, no being in all of Alexandria could resist her queen bee charms.  It was the entire reason they had to use audience proxies in the first place - if they didn’t, the audience would go mad and tear at each other’s throats trying to get to her, as they found out the hard way the first time she tried using her feral soul.

Just like all the others, the group struggled with her pheromones, too - they struggled to focus, they made mistakes, they spaced out.  Victory was supposed to be hers, again.

If it weren’t for that damn Hhetsarro woman!

She was the only one that nothing she used worked on - she deftly dodged her poison, pirouetting around the toxic puddles, causing Honey B no end of irritation.  She thought her pheromones would be enough to cause her to stumble, but even those didn’t work, much to Honey B's confusion and ire.

And on top of all of that, she kept getting distracted by her - she treated the whole fight like some kind of dance, weaving around every attack she threw at her, her dress gracefully twirling and billowing, her hair framing her damnably adorable face…

“Get out of my head!!”

She would have cracked her vanity in two were it not for Obsidian poking his head through the door.

“Sugar bug, you okay-”

“NOT NOW, SID!”  

Through the mirror on her vanity she saw the Eldite give a yelp and retreat behind the door with a slam, leaving her to her huffy thoughts.  Were she calmer, she would have noticed that the hollow feeling in her chest had vanished for the time being, replaced with a feeling of warmth that she was adamantly choosing to believe was due to her fury.

“She’d better hope I don’t see her again!!”

She, unfortunately, did wind up seeing her again.  And again, and again and again, as that woman and her group trounced Brute Bomber, and then a surprise bout against Wicked Thunder.  Metem wouldn’t shut up about this…what did he call her?  The Cobalt Prancer?  Honey B shook her head as she recalled the name. Ridiculous, she thought to herself, knowing full well the irony in such a thought.

And yet, she couldn’t deny that there was some appeal to the Prancer, as she drew audiences and crowds at an even faster rate than she herself did back in her early days.  Fans formerly sporting her usual white and black suddenly started donning cooler blues to support their new favorite, and she overheard snippets of conversation, not about her, but about this new Hhetsarro dancer sweeping through Solution Nine’s hearts.  It made her feel ill, but at the same time she found herself staring occasionally at those bright blue eyes.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she retreated to the one place nobody ever thought to look for her at - a little hole-in-the-wall place in True Vue called the Neon Stein.  Almost none of her fans knew she came here, and those that did knew to keep their mouths shut or else.  Honey B trudged through the automatic doors, letting the soft lo-fi music wash over her, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer lighting.  A Viera bartender with electric blue hair looked towards her and smiled as she plopped down onto one of the stools.

“You look like you brought one of those thunderclouds into Everkeep from outside, Honey,” she said, voice naturally carrying a lilt of flirtiness to it, a notion that Honey B had grown used to from her.  “Somethin' on your mind?”

"My usual, Melancholy,” Honey B snapped, before instantly regretting it as Melancholy’s smile faltered.  

“Someone put a bee in your undies, clearly,” said Melancholy curtly, narrowing her eyes at her before making her usual - a milky-colored glass of wine, with Megamaguey agave rather than grapes, a local recipe from the Turali folk they call “pulque”.

“Sorry, Melly, I’ve just been having a rough time of it lately, that’s all,” she said apologetically, going so far as to let the bee pun slide.  Melancholy gave her a sympathetic smile as she slid the glass across the counter towards the queen bee, and Honey B immediately downed the contents, feeling the sweet liquid burn down her throat.  The Viera shook her head and started to pour another glass when her ears perked up in response to the doors opening again, looking up and smiling again at this new patron.

“Welcome back, adorable~” she said warmly as footsteps approached the bar.  Honey B didn’t even look up from her empty glass until she caught a whiff of a familiar lavender scent, and she whipped her head around to look.

“Just my usual juice, please!” said the Cobalt Prancer herself as she sat down next to Honey B, a cheery smile on her face as the fighter’s jaw hung agape slightly.  That fire lit itself in her heart again at the sight, and Honey barely had the wherewithal to wonder about it through the shock.  

The Hhetsarro looked to her and her expression brightened, oblivious to the rage(?) building in her former opponent.  “Hi!  I remember you from the Arcadion!” she said brightly as she held out a hand to shake.  “You might not remember me - my name’s M’zikuh!  Though Metem keeps calling me the Cobalt Prancer, eheh...” She scratched the back of her head sheepishly with her free hand, not noticing that Honey B didn't return the gesture.

M'zikuh.  Finally she had a name to the face. Honey B expected to be infuriated, and she still was, but she also felt a kind of…elation?  The name sounded almost musical to her ears, and she found herself wanting to hear it more.

She shook her head.  What was she doing?

“Why are you here?” she asked finally, causing M'zikuh to blink in surprise.

“My friend works here!  Well, really she works in the Backrooms, but I also just really like it here!  It's got a nice atmosphere, a little like Xbalyav Ty'e, but without the tacos!” 

Unsurprisingly, Honey B had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but it was hard to ignore her enthusiasm.  Were she not in such a sour mood, it would have been infectious.

“She’s been coming here for a while now, Honeybug,” said Melancholy, addressing Honey B now.  “Honestly I thought it was amazing that you two kept missing each other.”

Honey B’s grip on her glass tightened.  If only we kept missing each other, she thought, ignoring the somber emotions she felt at the thought.

“You know what, Melly?  I’m actually gonna head off early today,” said Honey B, slamming her glass down on the counter and barely containing her emotions as she tapped her regulator to send Melancholy the credits for her drink before stomping off.  

“It was lovely to meet you in person, Miss Lovely!” M’zikuh called after her, and Honey B swore she could hear a smile return to her voice.  She fought the urge to roll her eyes even as she ignored the warmth filling her chest at the sound of her voice.

This was going to be an incredibly long night…