Everything is a jumbled confusion. She saw Bella-- blood-- kissing-- but, again, again, Bella, Bella, Bella. Which was impossible. Because Bella was safe at home. At least, Redana hoped she was safe. She prayed that Bella would be safe. She made a sacrifice to her father[1] on the first planet she landed on with Alexa: a wild stag, brought down with her bare hands. Please, she'd prayed, head bowed over the roasted meat. Please keep Bella safe. Convince my mother that Bella is blameless. Turn aside her anger.

It's Bella, the Auspex says, grumpily. There's a little catgirl holding a sign with her name on it, even, in her peripherals. 100% certified Bella. Except the Auspex thought the Ceronians were alive, so clearly, in Elysium, all bets were off and... no, no, it has to be Bella. Unless it's Mynx? That would make more sense, the shapeshifter would be a better huntress. Bella was lots of things, but she was no good at hunting at all.

But when she opens her green eye and lets herself look, even that thought withers away. How could it not be her Bella? Mynx was always too flirty, too wide-eyed, when it came to Bella. Only Bella would ever dare call her an idiot, and even then, only when she was sure they were alone, and only when chastising her about a new sprain or bruise or near-death in a training accident.

"Bella, why are you here?" There's something that's safe to be confused about. Not all those confusing half-dream memories of what the Nemean did in her place, perhaps thoughts or desires more than actual, well, act, because of course she wouldn't kiss Bella. Not her best friend. She wouldn't be so cruel to her Bella, not ever. "You said you wouldn't let me go, so why did you come?"

Then Redana looks up and down that new dress. The cleavage! The skirt that ends above the knees! Where's her apron with the pawprints on it and the long gloves? Her Bella doesn't like clothes like this! She's demure, modest, even a little bit of a prude, and... oh. Of course. Redana lifts her head and sees Jas'o there, ready to shoot her new friend and her oldest companion and even her, if she makes the wrong move. And absolute fury surges through her again.

"How [b]dare[/b] you, Jas'o?" Her voice has a little bit of the Nemean's thunderclap left in it, a lingering echo. "Help me up, Bella," she adds, not even turning her head to look; she knows that Bella will happily back her up. Here, at least, even if she was afraid back home. "Jas'o, I can forgive you shooting me," she yells, keeping her weight on Bella, "but how dare you drag Bella out here? She wouldn't leave with [i]me[/i]; I can't, I don't want to imagine what you did to her! Poor thing, she's worried sick, look at her! And another thing, how [i]dare[/i] you dress her up like this? Drooling over her the whole way from Tellus, I'm sure, making her dress up like a party favor to titillate you and your dirty crew! Now put that Thunderbolt down, and if you dare shoot [i]either[/i] of my friends I will make you very, very sorry you did it!"

She glares daggers at him, and then whispers out of the side of her mouth: "Bella, I can't stop him if you don't help me up..."

***

[1]: it should have been to Hera, except that Hera never accepted any of her offerings, no matter how hard she tried, no matter if they were hand-baked cakes or expensive golden earrings. So a sacrifice to Hera's bride would have to suffice.