Everything about the Beri Cultural Festival is, in one way or another, part of pack maneuvering. The very concept: a statement that the Plousios is celebrating the customs of the crew and Lady Mosaic's former home, but that it is the Silver Divers who are the defenders of those customs. The fried flatbreads and noodles, made under a salvaged sign which says DOL: proof that plunder-raids on the agricultural systems were successful and that Plundering Fang is on the back foot. The incense wreathing the entire festival in synthetic Celebration and Victory: evidence that Gemini is still listening to Ember, at least for now. The location, in the middle of Second Hall, stretching from wall to mottled wall in a sea of tents and poles and scavenged decorations: a demonstration of the Silver Divers' command of the ship. The prisoners attending to frying food and hosting games and carrying burdens for the grinning Ceronians: an object lesson in the hierarchy of conquest, and a boost to morale to boot. And the Ceronians themselves, dressed in silk and mail, Corvii-feather capes and glimmering veils: Mosaic's personal army, here to serve her with prejudice and initiative.
Ember herself has added a collar to her regalia, with a decorative chain connected to her left vambrace. She is bare of perfume, but the maid with her bears an oversized bouquet of small flowers, prizes from small plots of precious earth. Her skirt is daringly split, her eyes are painted the deep purple of a thick-churned nebula, and her lips beneath the veil are dark and rich. (The maid's skirt is daringly short, and her chains are as decorative and intended for use as Ember's own.) She bears a long knife at her side, and her left hand is sheathed in silver wire and stolen jewels. She feigns nonchalance, but her tail and ears betray her anticipation, her desire for praise, her hope that Mosaic might look at everything she did in service to the ship, in service to her, and see a heroine. The right choice to lead the Silver Divers for the sake of the ship, for the sake of victory, for the sake of her.
But the part that will show her love the most? The fireworks. Sagetip promised low noise, high color: just for you, Mosaic, so the crack doesn't hurt your ears, so that you can watch the falling embers with wide pupils and a twitching tail, so that you can be pleasantly overwhelmed and not clamping your hands over your ears. The favor owed for that isn't cheap, either. A gift, a spectacle, a date, and an attempt to recover as much of your town as possible.
Doesn't it tell you that you are loved, Mosaic? Doesn't it all say that Ember loves you? That your knight has been everything you could have asked of her?
Ember herself has added a collar to her regalia, with a decorative chain connected to her left vambrace. She is bare of perfume, but the maid with her bears an oversized bouquet of small flowers, prizes from small plots of precious earth. Her skirt is daringly split, her eyes are painted the deep purple of a thick-churned nebula, and her lips beneath the veil are dark and rich. (The maid's skirt is daringly short, and her chains are as decorative and intended for use as Ember's own.) She bears a long knife at her side, and her left hand is sheathed in silver wire and stolen jewels. She feigns nonchalance, but her tail and ears betray her anticipation, her desire for praise, her hope that Mosaic might look at everything she did in service to the ship, in service to her, and see a heroine. The right choice to lead the Silver Divers for the sake of the ship, for the sake of victory, for the sake of her.
But the part that will show her love the most? The fireworks. Sagetip promised low noise, high color: just for you, Mosaic, so the crack doesn't hurt your ears, so that you can watch the falling embers with wide pupils and a twitching tail, so that you can be pleasantly overwhelmed and not clamping your hands over your ears. The favor owed for that isn't cheap, either. A gift, a spectacle, a date, and an attempt to recover as much of your town as possible.
Doesn't it tell you that you are loved, Mosaic? Doesn't it all say that Ember loves you? That your knight has been everything you could have asked of her?