[b]Redana![/b]

The Elder has a long stick with a crook on the end. The metalwork of the twisting head says 'symbol of ancient authority' but the way she uses it to hook around the legs, waists, and wrists of young children, smoothly picking them up and depositing them out of the way with the gentle firmness of a shepherd says 'grandmother' - and the shocking speed with which she goes through the crowd says 'martial artist'. Many of them squeak with delight when they're lifted up into the air by their collars but none of them dare rushing back across the field for a second try. Stories are filled with ancient martial sages and your heart tells you that this is one of them.

She wears dark round glasses, a necklace of shark teeth, and what might have once been a steel grey military uniform before it was turned into an arts & crafts project by a classroom of children who all had far too ambitious ideas about depicting her legendary deeds with cloth patches. There are a lot of crudely depicted burning ships and stick figure fights. The faded patterning on her wrist feathers suggest that there is likely a far more professionally done version worked onto her body - many of the Alcedi around here have elaborate curving oceanic designs dyed into their feathers - but the Elder seems content with the children's depictions.

She looks at you - well, tilts her head in such a way that you suspect she might be blind behind those glasses. Even so you get the impression that she's taking note exactly of where your hands are. "In the name of Hera, the First Fleet greets you and gifts you with twenty pigs and fifteen chickens," she said. "We also offer you the hand in marriage of Lacedo, rank within the Fleet, and an honour belt woven by Jain Ovardaughter should you join our war."

She pauses, and there's a silence of expectation. Try not to give offense, Redana.

[b]Vasilia and Bella![/b]

Machine Intelligences, for all their subtleties, are not people. You can almost hear the audible click and clunk of gears realigning - lulled into a different formation by the hypnotic swaying of Bella and Mynx. With threat assessment regulated again to a background process then its other processes begin to re-engage and normal operations resume all over the ship. As Birmingham eases, so does the hall full of Hermetics who - while still paying close attention to what happens on the dais before the viewport - also start to maneuver for position in the coming dance. 

[b]Alexa![/b]

"Yes!" said Princess Epistia. "A heroic and daring rescue against terrible odds! You're right - inaction would shame my ancestors!" 

Okay so it seems like the Ceronians tell a different version of that story. It's too late to explain the military philosophy at stake - already she's leaping into action, mark of Ares shining upon her brow.

And not five seconds later she's wrapped in half a dozen cybernetic tentacles by the Coherent soldier. Athena's eyes! This is why fighting the Hermetics is such a miserable experience - you've never got any idea what they're going to do before they do it.

"Hey, so, [i]totally[/i] up to you," said the Coherent to Epistia, "but if you want, we can dance for a bit before I take you over to the Anemoi? I don't know a lot about that ship but from what I gather this might be your last chance for a while, hey?"