Alexa stares at Isty because it's better than watching Hades shuffle through the cards. Honestly, what's the point of cheating at solitaire?

Isty looks so innocent. Was she ever like that? Does she remember a day when she could think of a battle and be excited for the glory she would win? Could think of it simply as a job like washing clothing or selling goods, which could be practiced and perfected and, at the end of the day, left behind?

She hasn't seen the chaos Ares wreaks in battle. Hasn't seen a ship torn in two by a core explosions and hasn't had to avoid thinking too hard about what all the little dots are that show up so dark amongst the Thunderer's canvas. Hasn't been in the push, watched a comrade's hair raise on their neck, smelled that acrid tang, heard the electric whine, and recognized too late that the skirmishers failed to reach that esoteric in time. Hasn't looked out towards the enemy camp and hoped the auguries come back negative because it means that everyone wins the grand prize of Tomorrow.

"It is"--and here, in the presence of the god of death, she picks her words with the same care a bomb defuser might choose a wire--"not so simple as that. I do not mind if I am chosen to to die in battle. I have long known that it is how it will happen. But--"

But what? But she doesn't want to hurt people? But she cares too much? But she can't help but see faces of friends long gone in the ranks of the enemy? But she can't help thinking that there's a better way than us or them? But what gives her the right to take somebody else's life simply because they happen to be on a strategically important hill? But what gives the brass the right to deem that they should own that strategically important hill? But there's no glory to be had in running roughshod over some servitors who'd like nothing better than to go home?

"--I cannot like it."

Dammit.