It's not that Alexa is a bad dancer. Indeed, she's privately very proud of her mastery of several forms, hard-earned through long training for court functions.

But she can also recognize when, like drills, she's just going through the motions.

Which isn't fair to Isty, and there's a part of her that dies at the thought that these mechanical motion will be their first dance together. Can she get a redo, please? Somewhere they can be alone? Somewhere she can convince her that no, this isn't how she normally dances?

She holds them tight and doesn't meet their eyes.

What kind of person is she?

The Pallas Rex, monster of Molech? A relic of a bygone age, chased by titles and battles fought and lost?

A tool? Tool sounds nice. A tool doesn't need to think about how it's used. A tool isn't complicit.

Alexa? A defender?

What kind of person does she want to be? Does she get a say in that?

"I am unsure," she admits. "I am someone who is trying to help those I care for. My captain. My friends. Isty."

She gives them a squeeze, almost more for her own sake than for anybody else's.

"We are probably more alike than you may know. In return, may I ask? What do you gain from capturing us? Advancement? Prestige?"