text: [Themes: Romance, war, conversation, romance]
  
  > look around
  Biplane Cockpit (sitting in the pilot's seat)
  You're seated in the cockpit of your Swordfish biplane, exposed to the elements. The small windscreen ahead does little to keep the harsh, icy wind from cutting right through you, and you're surrounded on all sides by blinding white mist.
  
  The plane's control column juts up in front of you.
  
  The engine stalls for a second before lurching back to life, something loose and metallic grating inside it.
  
  > pull the stick
  The control column moves loosely, clearly having no effect on the plane's ailerons.
  
  The control column twitches spasmodically.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes...
  
  You feel the plane's nose dropping as your airspeed slows.
  
  Time passes...
  
  Your altimeter reads 200m. You should seriously consider bailing out.
  
  Time passes...
  
  Your altimeter reads 100m. You should seriously consider bailing out.
  
  Time passes...
  
  The mists below part, and you see the ground for the first time in hours, sharp black rocks breaking through the snow. Thankfully, you don't even feel it when you hit.
  
  > Xyzzy
  The word "xyzzy" is not necessary in this story. Honest.
  
  Your plane will have hit the ground by now, shattering into pieces, bursting into flames.
  
  > shoot yourself
  You miss.
  
  But you're okay. You made it.
  
  > Sleep
  You don't think it would be a good idea to sleep right now.
  
  Your plane will have hit the ground by now, shattering into pieces, bursting into flames.
  
  > jump
  Just as soon as you're standing on the ground.
  
  But you're okay. You made it.
  
  > shoot yourself
  You miss.
  
  The hard part is over.
  
  > Canopy
  The parachute canopy is too far away.
  
  The mist beneath you parts. Below you are thick, evergreen trees, garnished with snow, clinging to sharp black rocks.
  
  Now you have a frame of reference, you realise just how fast you're falling.
  
  You open your eyes. You feel remarkably well given the circumstances. The air is fresh and invigorating, the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves is like soothing music. Time to get moving - for all you know, you might be behind enemy lines.
  
  Forest Clearing (lying on the ground)
  Snow-coated evergreen trees surround you on all sides, their roots tangling into rugged black rocks. Snow falls from the bright white sky above.
  
  The canopy of your parachute is suspended in the branches of a tree, like a giant, tattered spider's web.
  
  > Examine pack
  A bulky backpack that will let you descend gracefully to the ground.
  
  A bird chirrups melodically.
  
  > search it
  There's nothing unusual in the parachute pack.
  
  You hear snow crunching nearby. Probably nothing.
  
  > open it
  That is not something you can open.
  
  An icy breeze passes through the clearing, the soft rustling of leaves following in its wake.
  
  > remove it
  Okay, you're no longer wearing the parachute pack.
  
  You hear snow crunching nearby. Probably nothing.
  
  > About yourself
  You're Lucas Thane: daredevil fighter ace, knight of the air.
  
  An icy breeze passes through the clearing, the soft rustling of leaves following in its wake.
  
  > look at leg
  Yep, one functional left leg. Good for standing on and walking with.
  
  > jump
  Just as soon as you're standing on the ground.
  
  > stand
  You sit up, feeling a lot weaker than you thought you were. As you start to shift your legs, something inside your left calf moves. White lightning bolts of pain jolt across your vision and you collapse back with a scream of pain.
  
  You've broken your leg. You're lying in the freezing snow, and you're not going anywhere.
  
  > look at the pack
  A worthless piece of crap that couldn't slow down a feather in an updraft.
  
  You hear something rustling among the trees.
  
  > shoot yourself
  You miss.
  
  A feral icekin blunders into the clearing, looking around with its empty black eyes. Probably attracted by your scream of pain. Nice going, Lucas.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes...
  
  The icekin looks around, breathing heavily through its sharp, uneven teeth.
  
  Time passes...
  
  The icekin fixes its lifeless black eyes on you, emitting a low growl.
  
  Time passes...
  
  The icekin lumbers towards you.
  
  > wait awhile
  Time passes...
  
  The icekin raises its furry white paw. The jagged edge of the rusty blade is brought into sharp relief against the white mists above.
  
  > wait a while
  Time passes...
  
  A loud report shatters the quiet, resounding through the forest.
  Flocks of black birds rise in flurries from the trees. The icekin sways slightly on the spot, its blank expression shifting to one of vague confusion. And then it slumps to the ground, almost as if falling suddenly asleep.
  
  A dark figure strides into the clearing, a smoking flare gun in her hand. She lets it fall to the snow and rests a hand on her hip, surveying you with her one good eye. "So," she says. "It's you. I imagine your plane fared as badly as mine."
  
  You smile in spite of the pain. "And it's you. Aiding and abetting the enemy. What a poor example of patriotism."
  
  "I'm a mercenary, Lucas, and you're not really one to talk yourself, are you?" She pauses and sighs. "After all this time," she says softly, "here we are. Face to face on the ground. It's..." She trails off.
  
  (You could tell her it feels like you already know her, or play it cool.)
  
  > shoot imelda
  You could never! Well, if you were both in planes, certainly. Quite frequently in fact. But not face to face!
  
  An awkward silence hangs between the two of you.
  
  > play it cool
  You offer her a cordial smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Baroness."
  
  She laughs. "Imelda. Just call me Imelda. Come on, we need to get to shelter."
  
  > ask Imelda about the shelter
  Imelda looks around apprehensively. "Actually, I think we should get moving rather than hang around chatting. The snowfall's getting thicker all the time."
  
  "I'm not going anywhere," you say. "I think my leg's broken."
  
  She kneels down by your side. "Let me take a look."
  
  "Be sure to look twice as long," you advise her, "since you just have the one eye."
  
  She purses her lips. "You're right. I'll do that."
  
  "Ow!"
  
  "Yeah, it's broken alright."
  
  "Thanks, doctor."
  
  "I'll have to see about making a splint. And then I guess you'll have to lean on me, if you don't mind."
  
  "Anything to help you feel useful."
  
  Downed Triplane (lying on the ground)
  A scarlet triplane lies half-buried in the snow, leaning to one side. You're huddled beneath its slanting wing, mostly sheltered from the freezing wind and falling snow.
  
  Imelda is huddled close by your side.
  
  "It's getting dark," Imelda says. "We'll have to stay here at least for tonight, and then move on tomorrow morning if the weather lets up."
  
  > ask Imelda about the fire
  You meet Imelda's eye and she looks at you expectantly.
  
  You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.
  
  Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
  
  > ask Imelda about the warmth
  You chat briefly with Imelda, but find out nothing important.
  
  You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
  
  > ask Imelda about Imelda
  "So..." you begin, "why not tell me a little about yourself, Imelda?"
  
  Imelda looks thoughtful. "I suppose... it's a bit of a broad topic. Tell you what, why don't we start with you telling me about myself."
  
  "You want me to tell you about yourself?" you repeat. "Don't you already know yourself quite well?"
  
  "I'm interested to know what you think of me. Come on, tell me."
  
  > ask Imelda about the thunderbolt
  You look over your shoulder at the fuselage of Imelda's plane. "So, you think you're too good for just two wings, then?"
  
  "Rate of climb," she says assuredly. "Gaining and losing height will win and lose dogfights for you. Three wings give you the capability to climb at an incredible rate. And when you roll, that translates to maneuvrability in any direction. I know there's pilots who like durability or speed, but to me, nothing beats being able to turn to constantly keep your guns on an opponent, especially if they're also struggling to keep their nose up."
  
  You make an ambiguous noise. "Sounds like it might be alright for some, I suppose."
  
  Imelda looks at you, fixedly. "After the war, I'll put you in the pilot's seat of one of these things, and you'll see just what I mean."
  
  > ask Imelda about Swordfish
  "I hear the Swordfish has a pretty good reputation on the other side of the lines."
  
  Imelda suppresses a smile. "It kick-started development of the Thunderbolt triplane, I'll give it credit for that."
  
  > ask Imelda about the predicament
  "This is quite a situation we're in," you say.
  
  "Yep," Imelda agrees.
  
  "Any idea what to do?"
  
  Imelda tips her head to one side. "Maybe."
  
  "Care to share?"
  
  "Well, as I see it, we have two main problems. We need to get to safety tomorrow, and we need to keep warm."
  
  > ask Imelda about safety
  "I was thinking," you tell Imelda.
  
  "Did it hurt?" she asks.
  
  "A little. Mostly it was just an unfamiliar sensation. What I was thinking was that we should head south from here. We'll probably reach the Imperial lines in no time. After that, a hot bath, some steaming soup..."
  
  Imelda seems unconvinced. "Or we could head north. We'll probably reach the Northern lines in no time, after which etcetera, etcetera."
  
  You draw a breath through your teeth. "I'm not sure I want to end up a prisoner of those icekin soldiers."
  
  "You won't be a prisoner of the icekin soldiers. You'll be my prisoner."
  
  "Sounds a bit kinky for my tastes."
  
  Imelda smiles slyly. "You have no idea."
  
  "Maybe we should just split up," you suggest. "I bet we could both make it by ourselves. Then no-one has to be anyone's prisoner."
  
  Imelda bites her lip. "I think we should stay together. At the least you need someone to lean on. If you aggravate your broken leg you might end up severing an artery or something..."
  
  (You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
  
  > ask Imelda to go south
  Imelda refuses your request.
  
  Snow continues to drift down from above.
  
  > ask Imelda about benevolent Empire
  "You're surely a fan of the Benevolent Empire and its attempts to civilise the world?"
  
  Imelda scoffs. "It's hard to consider an empire benevolent when it thinks that rearranging the world to suit its own economic needs is 'civilising' it."
  
  "You don't think the people of the Northern Territories would benefit from giving us all their noxious petroleum?"
  
  "I think they've benefited best by giving it to us Sky Mercenaries."
  
  A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
  
  > ask Imelda about benevolent Empire
  "You're surely a fan of the Benevolent Empire and its attempts to civilise the world?"
  
  Imelda scoffs. "It's hard to consider an empire benevolent when it thinks that rearranging the world to suit its own economic needs is 'civilising' it."
  
  "You don't think the people of the Northern Territories would benefit from giving us all their noxious petroleum?"
  
  "I think they've benefited best by giving it to us Sky Mercenaries."
  
  > tell her we should split up
  The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).
  
  "By the way," Imelda says, "why exactly did you feel the need to fly into me?"
  
  "That's funny," you reply. "I thought that you were the one who flew into me."
  
  The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
  
  > ask Imelda about the safety
  "About where we're headed..." you begin.
  
  "Have you reached a decision yet?" Imelda asks you.
  
  A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
  
  (You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
  
  > tell her we should split up
  The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).
  
  > tell her you should split up
  "We're still technically enemies," you say. "We'll just have to go our separate ways."
  
  Imelda shakes her head. "No, I can't leave you limping through the snow on a broken leg. Look, if you really want me to, I'll go south with you. But I'd much rather you came north with me."
  
  (You could agree to go north with her, ask her to go south with you, tell her you should split up, or tell her you can't decide.)
  
  > ask Imelda to go south
  Imelda refuses your request.
  
  Your breath leaves little clouds in the air.
  
  > ask Imelda about the Tiger Sauce
  "Have you ever had Tiger Sauce?" you ask.
  
  Imelda looks puzzled. "You mean sauce made from tigers?"
  
  "I think it's tiger milk, actually."
  
  She turns her nose up. "No thanks."
  
  "Oh, you'd be surprised."
  
  > ask Imelda to go south with you
  The story doesn't understand that command. Please use ASK ACTOR ABOUT TOPIC (or just A TOPIC).
  
  Snow continues to drift down from above.
  
  > ask her to go south with you
  "I think you should come south with me," you say. "The Benevolent Empire always treats its prisoners well, and I have plenty of clout. We'd be able to spend quite a bit of time together."
  
  Imelda looks a bit conflicted for a moment. And then she nods. "Okay. I've looked after you for a while, now maybe it's your turn. I won't be sorry to leave the war behind, either. So, yes, let's go south."
  
  The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
  
  > suggest making a the fire
  You look around. "I think we could build a fire. If we put it right there it should be close enough to warm us up, but the wind will blow the smoke away from us."
  
  Imelda crawls out from under the wing and stands up, snow crunching beneath her feet. "Okay, I'll go find some wood, or anything else that looks like it'll burn. Give me your gun. I'd hate to have to face down a feral icekin with nothing but a couple of pine branches."
  
  (You could agree, or politely refuse.)
  
  > tell her you can do better
  You shift your broken leg so that you can grab a couple of sticks from the pile. "I think the Boy Scouts need to take over here," you tell Imelda.
  
  She gives you a very doubtful look. "Excuse me? The Sky Guides are more than capable of rubbing two sticks together. Unless you can think of a way an all-male group might have gained extra practice in that regard?"
  
  "Clearly you don't have enough confidence in your abilities to just get on with it."
  
  "I'm just trying to get you to save your energy."
  
  You both tend to the sticks in intense silence from then on. But the fire doesn't suddenly spark to life, it forms slowly from a wisp of smoke, and it's hard to tell which of you is more responsible for it. When it's crackling away nicely, you both sit back, shoulder-to-shoulder.
  
  "I told you to save your energy," Imelda says. "That was clearly my spark that lit it."
  
  You shake your head. "My sparks were much more vibrant. You could tell they had the Lucas Thane never-give-up attitude."
  
  "Fine, keep lying to yourself. We both know the truth."
  
  "I agree that one of us is in denial, but I don't think it's me."
  
  Imelda holds out her hands to the fire. "It's nice that we got it done, though."
  
  You hold out your own hands. "I don't dispute that."
  
  > Kiss imelda
  You're not about to kiss the enemy without at least a hint that she'd like you to.
  
  Snow continues to drift down from above.
  
  > ask Imelda about the love
  You clear your throat. "So, Imelda, how are things with the men in your life?"
  
  "Do you mean my male friends among the Sky Mercenaries? Or are you sneakily trying to ask about us?"
  
  You rub your hands together to try to keep them warm.
  
  > ask Imelda about us
  "Imelda, about us..."
  
  She looks down at her feet. "What about us?"
  
  "Well, what's your take on it? Why do we keep circling around one another? In the air or otherwise."
  
  Still without looking at you, she says, "I can't really remember how we first met, except that I suddenly realised this plane from the 5th Imperial Air Squadron kept seeking me out to duel with me, probably because I'm an obvious target in my scarlet plane. I usually brought down every enemy plane I came across, but you always managed to escape. I only shot you down that once. I started to research you, found out who you were, started to learn your flying style, had a chance to kill you, but didn't take it, and then flew into you in the middle of a snowstorm. And now here we are."
  
  There's a pause, and then she adds, "But that's not what you asked, really, is it? That's just the story of us - I didn't mention my feelings at all." She smiles apologetically.
  
  > ask Imelda about keeping warm
  You hold your hands out to the fire. "This is nice."
  
  "Yes," Imelda agrees, "my fingers don't feel quite ready to snap off anymore."
  
  > hug imelda
  You wrap your arms around Imelda and squeeze her tightly.
  
  "Why Lucas," she says wryly, hugging you back, "you must contain your obvious desire for me."
  
  "I'm just trying to keep warm," you reply.
  
  "Yes, keep telling yourself that."
  
  A chill wind passes under the wing, making you both shiver.
  
  > Kiss imelda
  You lean over to Imelda and kiss her on the lips. She kisses you back, forcefully.
  
  > ask Imelda about duelling
  "It's a strange past-time, really, trying to shoot one another out of the air."
  
  "Yes," Imelda agrees, "we should take up chess or ballroom dancing instead."
  
  The triplane rocks slightly in the wind.
  
  > ask Imelda about what she's doing after the the war
  "Aside from sticking me in a triplane, you got any plans for after this all blows over?"
  
  Imelda scratches her ear. "I don't know. I really don't know. I went straight from aristocracy to being a fighter pilot. This is preferable, believe it or not. But you'd have to be insane to want to do this forever. Or maybe I am insane, I don't know. I just don't know."
  
  > ask Imelda about the ballroom dancing
  "Do you dance?" you ask.
  
  "Not when I'm this cold," Imelda says. "But I learnt ballroom dancing when I was young. I can be as graceful on my feet as in the air."
  
  "We'll have to dance some time," you suggest.
  
  "Certainly," she says mischievously, "but I warn you, my hands have been known to wander."
  
  "I'll keep a careful eye on you, don't worry."
  
  > ask Imelda about the chess
  "Do you play chess?" you ask.
  
  "More than that," Imelda says. "I win at chess."