“That’s amazing,” Redana breathes. She stares in delighted awe at the princess, beaming like a fool. “You’re using a [i]farming implement[/i] as a weapon? What am I saying, of course that makes sense, your father used to be worshipped as a god of the harvest on Ceron, taking on his iconography is a fantastic way to honor him! Your style isn’t like anything I’m familiar with, it’s not even Ceronian, did you pick it up from the Assistant Secretary? I know his people weren’t valiant, but his fluid motion seems to be an inspiration, I think. Have you tried using sickles as a sidearm? I think, with their moon-shaped edge—“

There’s another crash far below, and Redana sobers. Her smile fades and is replaced with determination as she collects herself and then drops to one knee, lowering her head. She looks more like a disheveled sailor than an Imperial princess, but when she speaks, it’s with a natural gravitas.

“Your royal highness, I implore you to suffer my presence in the name of my father, Zeus Xenios, the hospitable one. I am Princess Redana Claudius of Tellus, bound by sacred oath to the service of your father, Hades Rusor, to whom all things return. I have pledged myself to win a smile from you.”

She offers her hand, still knelt at Epistia’s feet. “And I know nothing better for a smile than to see the shining stars and the billowing of the waves. You have lived a life here in paradise, but if you are like me, you cannot bear a cage long. You want to know what lies beyond the jaws of the leviathan we abide within, this very moment. If it would please you... come with me. Take my hand, and it is yours.”

A soft breeze dusts her golden hair with radiant droplets of water, reflecting the light of the caged sun. Her face is noble, crowned with her father’s blessing, and yet carefully vulnerable. Her lips are parted, ever so slightly, and her coat clings to her frame. To see her in this moment is to be struck by the god’s son, the merry archer who carries the darts of gold and lead[1], whose wings carry him careless wheresoever he will.

“We don’t have much time,” she adds, quietly. “The longer I’m here, the more danger I bring to your doorstep. I’m sorry. But please. Come with me.”

***

[1]: the first of Eros’s arrows inspires furious desire and longing, stirring the heart into sudden fire; the second fills the unfortunate with fear and revulsion, and the desire to flee. It is said, too, that Eros is blind, and cannot distinguish one from the other; but that may just be a foolish story. The gods do as they will. It is not for us to declare our understanding of the will of Aphrodite’s child.

***

[Redana is Talking Sense, but she only achieves an 11 if she has touched Epistia’s desires and maidenly heart. It’s an 8, if instead her words are judged on their reason; Epistia’s ability to squeeze a favor out of Redana depends entirely on how hard and fast she falls for her.]