The blackberry bursts inside her mouth. The rough flesh of the tiny fruit tickles Bella's tongue as it passes across it, carrying the taste of tart juice sweetened to impossible degrees by more sugars than could possibly have fit into such a tiny thing. It's sweet on top of sweet on top of sweet, piled over the vague suggestion of something natural and good until she can feel it rotting her mouth just from the contact. Her mouth is filling up with saliva, and her saliva is the juice of the berry replicating endlessly inside of her. It gushes in endless rivers of cloying fake flavor and no matter how much she wants to spit it out, how is she supposed to refuse a gift from a god? She swallows, but there is always more, and more after that, and more after [i]that[/i] and...

The berry is washed off of her tongue with a glass of the floral wine she'd ordered brought to her ship. The sensation is relief, of course, though her tongue is so numbed to sweetness that she can only notice the faint bitter notes of the alcohol and a grassy note that she hadn't been able to detect before. For some reason it makes her think of honey. But even now it's calming and soothing, she needs more, her mouth is so full of pain and this will fix it, she swallows but another mouthful rushes in to replace it faster than she can breathe. She sputters. Her entire universe fills up with flavor. 

There's an acid sweetness in her fingertips and a metallic tang rippling through her kneecaps and the oily orange blandness of her most comforting wine is twisting in great whorls with the miracle of flowers she'd declared to be the greatest treasure of the Yakanov until these, the most wonderful and perfect flavors she can recall experiencing across her life both at once turn to the wretched taste of vomit that's burning inside her spine. 

She can't see. She can't hear. She can't--

There's a sensation of teeth on her ear and they [i]bite[/i] and painpainpainpaineverythingispainithurtsdon'tgrinditpleasejustletgonopleasestopwhatdidshedowhatcanshedopleasegodpleasepleasepleaseletgoshecantthinkcantbreatheneedairneedairneedairbutthenthere'sfingersonherchin and they're lifting her head and soothing her hurts and it fades. Bit by bit, it fades. The pain pulls back and her senses rush back in to blessed normalcy. Hera offers her a smile. 

She is vaguely aware that her foot is standing in a pool of vomit. She doesn't need to wonder where that came from. She grits her teeth, which are somehow still there, still perfect and strong and exactly where her instincts expect them as they squeeze together. Ignore it. Ignore all of it. 

Through the hall, her Lanterns shine. Row after row of armored servitors gleam before her, and promise her their strength. The menials fill in the gaps and stare at her with awe, their perfect queen. Their eyes grow wide and shine like tiny motes of starlight in the dark of her beloved ship and they promise her their love. Her ears perk up at the sight and even though her stomach is churning with the sensations of leftover sickness, her muscles coil and release, tense and relax, flex and then unwind again with such smoothness and strength that she might as well be feeling better than ever before. 

Her eye is watering. She lifts a hand to brush her cheek, and her talon comes away soaked.

[center]nected all through like this is the universe here you go look forward see the shine of that 
white dwarf it’s minting gold in there r
ight now you know and this dust connects to this yellow sun and
 over here a planet with so many leaves and ants and flowers you’ll die before 
you count them all you’ll die you’ll die you’ll die 
you’ll look so pretty as part of[/center]

buried your head in her hair and you sniffed and 
 you dragged and it was warm and soft and clean it was
 cinnamon but dotted with lilies and
 it was her and it was her and 
it was all of her and you 
have never known happiness like that and
 you will never know happiness like that 
stupid bitch you stupid bitch you cursed yourself forever then and there and now you’re---

Ivory Smile floats in front of her vision, hands too ruined to hold the coin she'd given him. His goreless face is too mangled for her to tell what sort of expression he watches her with, and when she opens her mouth to breathe his name he vanishes into the dust of the lamplights. 

She is alone, among her people. Her chest won't stop squeezing and her heart won't stop pounding and her eye won't stop [i]leaking[/i] and she's so strong, she's so strong, she's so strong that nobody can help her at all. The warmth and the wet creeps about the Anemoi again. Something wet and rotten sloughs off a wall and lands on the dampening floors with a pop loud enough to make her wince.

They can't help her, but she can help them.

Bella shuts her eyes. Her claws wear ugly grooves into her palms that will require new surgeries to correct again. All the pressure comes oozing out of the wounds like puss deserting an infection. All her anger goes dripping out with the little drops of blood. Breath after deep, slow, breath, she empties out inside. What's left is hollow. Fit for growing bonsai.

She sighs. It did not take a genius to figure out where Nero's daughter had gone. She opens her eyes again, her golden eye so dull and listless it's become a perfect match for the inhuman calm of the Auspex. She walks painfully slow steps among her people. She has to force her shoulders up. Be strong. Be proud. Be a queen. Bella's tail droops low enough to brush the ground. Every motion and every muscle begs her to go and rest. She scoffs loudly; there's already somebody in her bed, you idiot.

"Listen to me!" if she tries she can make her voice as clear and strong enough to echo through the hall. If she tries she can almost forget how dry her throat feels, "Get the ship ready to depart immediately! And the second you finish, fuck off into space and don't come back here. You useless bunch of assholes. Get the [i]fuck[/i] out of my face!"

Her strides are powerful, now. Her body crackles with the renewed strength of someone who has figured out her purpose at long last. She makes it half a dozen steps before she feels a hand clamp down against her wrist. Small, gentle fingertips brush against her fur. Stay, they plead. Where are you going? Take us, take [i]me[/i] with you. Bella wheels about, snarling, and stares into the soulful eyes of Jil of the Bridge Clan.

"Let go before you lose that arm, you fucking disgrace. You stupid fucking waste of air, I said! Let! Me! Go!"

It's like throwing a child. No resistance at all. No capacity to do the thing. She simply twists her hips and she feels Jil's small body lift into the air, and suddenly the sounds are the squeak of surprise that the girl couldn't keep inside her mouth where it belonged, and the rattling of her ugly and absurd totem necklaces as they clattered against each other. With a thump and a clatter ten times too loud for Empress Nero's great gift of a ship, she smashes into an unprepared knight and they both go bowling over.

Bella spits on the ground, hissing at everyone stupid enough to try and placate her. She lifts her hand in the air, claws already tensed in threat.

"I'm so sick and fucking tired of you little shits slowing me down. I'm better off alone. I've always been better off alone."

Something in her throat hitches, but Bella ignores it and stalks through the passageways like a stalking panther. The Anemoi swallows her every sound, like a parting gift to its Mistress. Good riddance. Ugly fucking boat that it was, it was still the Empress'. It didn't deserve to blow up with the rest of the Yakanov.