Even Bella hesitates before she walks into the light. Her posture stiffens and her smooth gait turns awkward for a step or two, just enough to get her to slosh some of her wine on the ground. She bends down automatically as if to clean it, but only winds up stretching her back for a moment before taking another long sip from her glass. She sniffs. That is [i]not[/i] her job anymore. 

Her hand lifts dreamily, as if in a daze, and she brushes her fingers against a spot on the back of her head. Under most circumstances, her hand would drop back down and that would be that. If she hadn't stumbled forward, if the light had been slightly different, if her hair was not tied back the way it is, if eyes less attentive than Mynx's were watching her right now, if, if, if. 

But the gods have willed it so, and the traces of a wide scar shine through. It's an enormous, ugly thing: not a mark of punishment meant to prove the Empress' love, but a souvenir from a battle that left no other marks on history. Redana and assassinations are very old friends, after all, even if she's too stupid to know that. It must be an old scar, a partially raised starburst where a trick knife had caught her before it burst into pieces, but against the rich darkness of her hair it seems starkly white and fresh. Almost as if she'd spent several years digging at it herself. Wouldn't that be just like her?

Her hand drops again, but it's too late. Her hair never quite settles back over it, and that mark of imperfection lingers in sight, impossible not to stare at. And that's the thing about perfection: once it's gone, you can never have it back. If the eye wanders from the blemish on her head, it won't be able to help but notice her talon jewelry in new light. Or the way the tip of her tail doesn't quite match the shape and color of the rest, or the spot at the back of her knee where the fur doesn't come together quite right and the needle shaped puncture mark that counts for some other fight or training exercise. They're all over her, but only in the places you wouldn't think to look. Of course they are. A servitor like Bella is meant to be looked at and admired, so naturally they wipe away blemishes on the most visible parts of her almost faster than she can acquire them. But who would waste time and resources tending to tending to the wounds of a maid where they're so easily covered up? You'll never find them if you don't go looking.

Bella sucks a breath in through her teeth. Her glass is empty again, and there's nothing here to fill it. She's squeezing it so hard it's a miracle it hasn't shattered in her claws already. Her golden eyes are sharp and piercing, and they seem to slide right over the Diodekoi. She turns her head and stares through Mynx, instead. Her yawn is full of teeth. 

"Hmph. Well this one's simple enough, I don't see a need to waste my time asking more questions about it. Come on, let's keep going. Whatever... all this is, it's giving me a headache."