The Gathering of Mirrors, Part 9 (Aftermath and Voting)

The sound of the surf was lost beneath the pavilion, replaced by the whirring thrum of human energy. All eight women clustered under the dome, a semicircle of painted skin and nervous anticipation, while the flames from the torches carved their bodies into living statues. For a few seconds, no one dared speak above the ambient murmur of night insects. Andy felt like a trespasser, walking into the center of a cultic ritual where he was both the sacrifice and the high priest.

He moved with care, scanning the faces. Marissa: serene, even after her confession, legs crossed so her thigh muscles flexed under the shifting patterns of earth and ocean. Sam: bouncing her foot, hands restless, jaw set with bravado and the hint of a dare. Claire: perched at the edge of her stool, gaze darting between her notebook and the bodies beside her. Dawn: hands folded in her lap, cheeks stained a high pink, eyes wide as if she’d only now realized she was naked save for the paint. Emi: six-armed and almost completely at ease, lower set of hands massaging her own biceps, upper arms hugging herself, dreamy smile plastered on. Liesa and Erin: side by side, Liesa’s arm draped over Erin’s shoulder, both staring at the candelabra as if it might announce the winner. Norah: the most still of all, one hand lightly resting on the back of Sam’s chair, the other folded neatly in her lap, chest rising and falling just a bit faster than the others.

Andy wasn’t sure how to begin. He hovered, tongue-tied, until Marissa rescued him with a dry, “If you don’t say something soon, the paint fumes are going to short-circuit our higher reasoning.”

Sam’s eyes flickered. “I think it’s already happening. Emi just told me she wants to learn how to walk on all six hands.”

Emi blushed, but not in shame. “It would be useful,” she murmured.

“Only if you need to beat someone at Twister,” Norah said, her eyes never leaving the painted olive branches on her own forearm.

This broke the dam. Conversation split along hidden seams: Dawn and Emi huddled, heads close, voice low; Liesa and Claire comparing notes on color palettes, Liesa tracing the edge of Claire’s motif with a curious fingertip; Sam and Norah falling into a rapid-fire exchange about the merits of coffee-themed body art versus geometric abstraction. Those two, Andy noticed with surprise, seemed to have reached an understanding. Erin watched, sometimes joining Liesa’s banter, but mostly observing, a look of low-key amusement settling in her eyes. Her eyes kept going to Andy speculatively. Marissa alone seemed to monitor the whole scene, as if tasked with measuring the psychological safety of the group.

Andy weaved through the clusters, offering a “you look amazing” or a “that’s incredible” to anyone who met his eye. Every compliment landed like a pebble in a lake: ripples of gratitude, embarrassment, pride, and desire moving outward. The air was so charged he felt electric—like one spark could set the whole gazebo ablaze.

He drifted over to where Dawn and Emi sat. Emi was giggling into her palm, Dawn’s lips pursed in mock offense.

“He’s here,” Dawn said, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of her paint. “Time to act normal, I guess.”

Andy smiled, kneeling down to eye level. “What’s going on?”

Dawn’s face softened. “Emi was just telling me how you once tried to fold a hundred origami cranes for her birthday. I said I didn’t believe you had the patience.”

He glanced at Emi. “I think I made it to, what, fifty-six? After that my fingers got cramps.”

Emi nodded, upper hands miming the delicate fold-and-crease motion. “He also used printer paper. Not the best for cranes.”

Dawn grinned. “I told you he was a softie,” she said, poking Emi in the side.

Andy laughed, soaking in their dynamic. Even now, with the stakes higher than any college prank or office challenge, Dawn and Emi managed to find a way to turn everything into something warm and bright.

“I love what you did with the paint, by the way,” he said to Dawn, who immediately ducked her head.

“It was Emi’s idea,” she admitted. “She said I should go with the bright colors. Because that’s how people see me, sometimes.”

Emi nodded. “And it’s true. You’re the light in a lot of dark rooms, Dawn.”

Dawn blushed even deeper, but she didn’t deny it. Instead she smiled at Emi, a small, shy expression that made Andy’s heart squeeze.

“Thanks for noticing,” Dawn said, almost whispering.

Andy resisted the urge to hug them both. He wanted to, though. Instead, he just patted Dawn’s knee and said, “You’ll always be the light for me.”

As he stood to leave, Emi’s upper left hand caught his wrist. Her touch was gentle, feather-light, but it made his pulse stutter.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes wide and shining. “For letting me be myself. Even if it’s… weird sometimes.”

He squeezed her hand back. “It’s never weird. It’s beautiful.”

He let her keep the hand for a moment, then moved on, feeling Emi’s gaze on his back as he went.

Next he found himself near Liesa and Claire. Liesa was in the middle of a passionate explanation, hands painting shapes in the air, Claire nodding intently, one hand resting on the notebook balanced on her knee.

“…the blue lines, see, are meant to suggest movement. Not just rivers, but, how do you say—flow of time?” Liesa said.

Claire smiled, then pointed to the veins on Liesa’s wrists, to the ‘river’ on her thigh. She placed her hands together.

Liesa beamed at the praise. “It is because of you, you know,” she said. “You taught me how to see the pattern.”

Claire blinked, unsure if it was a compliment or a joke. I just like things that line up, she scribbled.

Liesa nodded, then turned to Andy, face lit with pride and a trace of the old mischief. “Claire told me if I did the bodypaint right, you would not be able to look away. Was she right?”

Andy felt his face go hot. “Absolutely right,” he said. “I could stare at the painting on your leg for hours.”

Liesa’s eyes sparkled. “That is good. I was worried you would only look at the other part.”

Claire snorted and scribbled furiously. Don’t flatter him. He barely noticed the rest of us, once you showed up.

“I noticed everything,” Andy protested, but the moment had already moved on.

Claire’s expression softened, and she met Andy’s eyes for the first time all night. Thank you for not judging me, she wrote. An expression of faint wonder appeared on her face. Thank you for feeling this way towards me. She touched her chest, over her heart, then blew him a kiss.

“I do,” he replied.

Liesa squeezed Claire’s shoulder, then, with a sly smile, whispered in her ear. Claire’s jaw dropped in disbelief, then she burst into silent giggles so contagious that Andy found himself laughing, too, even though he’d missed the punchline.

He left them that way, bonded over inside jokes and shared accomplishment.

Sam and Norah, meanwhile, had moved to the railing. Sam was leaning against it, arms crossed, while Norah stood close, her painted fingers drumming on the wood in a syncopated rhythm.

“…I’m just saying, you could have gone for a meme,” Sam said. “There’s, like, a million memes about girls with huge racks and too much ambition. You missed a marketing opportunity.”

Norah shrugged. “I don’t need a meme to get noticed. Besides, I wanted something dignified.”

Sam eyed the swirling gold on Norah’s chest. “It’s dignified, all right. But the Audience is still going to lose their minds.”

Norah grinned. “Let them. They can’t touch me, anyway.”

Sam glanced at Andy as he approached. “Did you see her back, yet?” Sam asked, as if Norah wasn’t there. “She’s got a whole bridge scene. You should check it out.”

Andy obliged, stepping around to study the blue-and-white arch. “It’s beautiful,” he said, and meant it.

Norah turned her head, meeting his gaze. “It’s about connection,” she said, voice softer than before. “The part in the middle, where everything meets. I always wondered if you’d notice that.”

He did. He wanted to say more, but Norah beat him to it.

“You can touch it, if you want,” she said.

Andy hesitated, then laid his palm gently on the base of the painted bridge. The skin beneath was hot, the paint smooth. He felt her shiver, but she didn’t move away.

After a moment, she smiled at him, her eyes clear and unguarded. “Thank you,” she said. “For giving me something to build on.”

Andy didn’t trust himself to answer. Instead, he just nodded, and left her to her conversation with Sam.

He finally joined Erin and Marissa, who had retreated to a quiet corner near the water pitcher. Erin was pouring a glass, her movements precise; Marissa watched her with a look that blended affection and analytic curiosity.

“Want some?” Erin offered, holding out the glass.

Andy took it, surprised at the coolness of her hand. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. The water was ice-cold, and it grounded him.

Marissa watched him drink, then said, “How’s your self-control holding up?”

Andy nearly choked. He coughed, then laughed. “Honestly? I’m starting to see double.”

Erin grinned, the hard lines of her face softened by the glow of the torches. “You always were a lightweight,” she said, voice teasing.

He shrugged. “Never claimed otherwise. But you try judging eight beautiful women in bodypaint, and then we’ll talk.”

Marissa gave him a look, then set her hand on Erin’s forearm. “If he passes out, we’ll carry him to bed,” she said.

Erin nodded. “Between the two of us, we could manage.”

Andy nearly choked on a sip of water, finished it, set down the glass, and smiled. “You two are dangerous together,” he said.

“We know,” Marissa replied, and Erin’s eyes glittered in agreement.

He stood there a moment, basking in their regard, before Marissa spoke again.

“You don’t have to pick tonight, do you?” she asked, her voice a notch lower.

Andy shook his head. “No. The rules are, I submit my ranking tomorrow morning. Arabella makes the announcement at noon. You’ve all got one more night to celebrate or commiserate.”

Erin nodded, almost relieved. “Good. I think the paint might need time to wear off.”

Marissa smiled, the warmth in her eyes unmistakable. “Thank you, Andy. For letting us show you who we are.”

He looked down, embarrassed, but Marissa caught his chin with two fingers and lifted his face.

“Seriously,” she said. “It means everything.”

He nodded, taking her hand. “Thank you, for showing me who you are and want to be.”

From the other side of the circle, Sam piped up. “Hey, Andy! Remember your promise: if I get turned into a corgi, you have to adopt me. None of that shelter bullshit.”

Everyone laughed, including Andy. The spell of tension that had bound the group finally cracked, replaced by a flood of easy, buoyant chatter.

Marissa rolled her eyes at the joke, but smiled. Erin offered a quick, sharp “woof,” and Sam pretended to preen.

Andy grinned. “It’s a deal,” he called back. “You’ll be the first corgi on LinkedIn with a full dental plan.”

Sam mimed a bow, then sat back down, draping her arm over Norah’s shoulder as if they’d known each other forever.

As the laughter faded, Andy looked around the circle, drinking in the sight of all eight women. Their differences, their colors, the patterns that mapped their skin and their stories. He realized how much he would miss every single one of them, no matter how the judging shook out.

Arabella stood at the edge of the gazebo, her posture immaculate, but her eyes softer than he’d ever seen. She gave him a small, approving nod.

Andy cleared his throat. “Thank you. All of you,” he said, hoping the words were enough. “No matter what happens next, I’m honored to know you.”

There was a hush, then Dawn said, “Same to you, Andy.”

“Yeah,” Emi added, six arms briefly clapping together in an awkward, heartfelt round of applause.

The others echoed, each in their own way: Liesa with a thumbs up, Claire with a shy smile, Norah with a sharp, subtle nod, Erin and Marissa with twin mysterious smiles and a look that said everything they’d left unsaid.

Andy felt something like pride. The gentle acceptance that, whatever happened, they had all done their best. They had opened up to him in ways he could not have imagined before.

It would make his decision all the harder. Its weight settled on his shoulders as Arabella approached.

"Ladies," The Host said, not unkindly, "Please withdraw to the hotel, now. We shall meet again at noon tomorrow to announce the results of the votes. Please do not seek Andy out until he has voted, tomorrow morning: you will know he has, when the Commissary is back to functioning normally." The girls climbed on their feet, some of them shivering still, others squirming a little, only a few showing little effect of the aphrodisiac paint. They looked at Andy, one by one, as they headed towards the hotel. And each of those looks hid a world of emotions behind it.

"Can I take a walk on the shore, to clear my head?" Andy asked. Arabella nodded quietly, and without preamble, he took a deep breath and started. After they all were gone, Arabella turned to the cameras.

"Voting is now open for the first challenge of the season! Please rank the girls in order, based on criteria including their attitude, the strength of what they represented, the creativity of their bodypaint, or if you wish, the emotional punch of their memories in the Cabana. Your votes will be tallied to produce a final ranking, which will then be averaged with the Master's ranking to produce a final list. The top Contestant will receive 8 VPs and will not receive a transformation, with all others receiving 2 VPs less than the one above them in the ranking. The lowest score will receive -6 VPs and will be at risk of elimination, unless vetoed." Arabella smiled. "In addition to the VPs, the Contestants will receive BPs based solely on audience ranking: a grand prize of 2.000 BP for the top Contestant, with all others receiving 250 BP less than the Contestant above them. The lowest score will receive 250 BP."

Arabella's eyes glimmered. "And there is one last thing. After voting, please feel free to submit your top preference via our network's contact form. When the audience ranking is tallied, I will select up to three voters whose top pick won. Those voters will have the possibility to suggest a single transformation for any one Contestant of their choice, to be added to the list of transformations from which you will vote during the transformation round. Thank you, my dears, and good luck!"

Audience voting for Show Yourself is open! Deadline is August 16, 2025 at 11.59pm EST.
While Audience voting will be averaged with Master voting for the final tallies, as Arabella mentioned, there will be BP prizes for the contestants based solely on Audience voting.
Furthermore, once you have voted, feel free to send me your top pick (either via DM here, via DM on Discord, or in the Discord channel, prefacing it with 'Top Pick: ' for easy retrieval). When the audience vote is tallied, up to 3 voters who picked the winner as their top pick will get to suggest one transformation each, to add to the TF round, for any one Contestant of their choice. The network reserves the right to tweak or adjust transformations deemed impractical or otherwise in need of a modification.
Happy voting!

Poll closed. Thank you!