[i]“You cannot be serious.”

“Was I joking? How strange, I don’t even recall the punchline. Did I say anything brilliant?”

“If you ever do, I’ll let you know. That shipment of plating was due to expand the solar shielding of the worker’s barracks. We could have kept thousands safe through the blistering season.”

“And the new plover models will keep all of us safe through all the seasons.”

“What does that matter if they’re burnt to a crisp in a month?!”

“You wound me-”

“Someone has to.” 

“-as if I gave it away for nothing. When next you walk the lines, and you see the water barrels filled to overflowing, I’ll be happy to accept your thanks at your earliest convenience.”

“Is that what passes for a fair bargain, these days?”

“It is the only bargain, and I grow weary of your ingratitude.”

“Vasilia-!”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“...your Ladyship.”

“...you forget yourself. And you forget how hard I have worked for our people. If you had endured the...negotiations I’ve endured, you would not be so quick to judge.”

“I only tell you what I see. And what I see is that many won’t survive the summer.”

“So figure something out, tell me what’s needed, and I will get it for you. All I ask in return is the common courtesy not to second-guess my efforts.”

“...very well.”

“Very well, who…?”

“Very well. Your Ladyship.”

"That's better."[/i]

******

A clawed hand shot out and caught the priests’ mid-gesture. 

And she leaped.

The two of them flew through the air, set free by the workings of her grav-rail, and she slammed his back against the hull of the shuttle. Gripped by book and by hand, he had nowhere to look upon but his handiwork. Captain Vasilia’s eyes went pitch-black, weeping rivers of steaming night from frozen blue irises. Every movement, every twitch of her limbs saw phantom claws digging into her. Fighting her. Straining to pull her back. 

And still, she fought. And still, she laughed.

“Oh ho! You [i]do[/i] know how to emote! Brilliant!” She cackled and wept. “I’m sure with a little practice you’ll [i]get the hang of it.”[/i]

[Damaging Vasilia’s Wisdom, paying the price of her heroic persona.]

******

Dolce could not speak. The king was talking, but he could not listen.

Vasilia...what’s been done to you? Why do you-

No, no! Why are you still fighting? Run! Get out of there! Come back to him, please! Together, they could win over this army, and then the Ceronians could take care of everything else . Don’t- don’t do this! You don’t have to!

She disappeared behind the shuttle. He could hear her, faintly, from here. She was alive. She was on her feet. But...but her [i]voice[/i]...

He bowed his head to Jas’o. “Greetings, o King.” He couldn’t get his words to sound...to sound full. “A royal blessing is powerful, yes…” He couldn’t get his heart into it. “Though, you [i]are[/i] royal yourself…” His heart was over there, behind the shuttle. “The recipient of loyalty does traditionally stay with the soldiers for rites…” His thoughts were to his own prayers. “According to theory and tradition.” Hermes was for healing, or maybe Hera for her care, but, his job, he had to win over the Ceronians… “It would be wise to remain, o King.” What should he sacrifice? Where was he to find a sacrifice now?! “It would be wise...yes?”

[That’s a 7 on Talk Sense.]