[b]Redana![/b]

If there's an upside to the Order of Hermes it's that they make it a point not to pay attention to imperfections. If someone stutters, fumbles their words, becomes emotional or is habitually clumsy priests of the Order will patiently wait for them to finish with no commentary or reaction whatsoever. It's a militant, doctrinal sympathy - underneath each set of robes each priest is fighting a conflict that nobody else can understand. If anything, Iskarot seems more sympathetic due to the fact that all of your conflicts are out in the open.

"Of course," said Iskarot. He pauses for a minute, chewing over the thought - you could tell he was about to launch into a long discussion about the minutae of Azura techno-religion and it's developments, but showing an uncharacteristic awareness he changes course. "When the Rift opened the Shah was on the other side and remains cut off to this day. There was a period of devastating civil war immediately prior to Imperator Nero's assault, and her retrieval of the Azura human population left the nation in disarray. The Endless Azure Skies are strangely empty even now, many cities left as ghost towns. The Azura always favoured individual excellence but that is pushed to new extremes. Refusing to accept decline, each Azura now performs the work of five or ten and devotes their life to almost artistic mastery of their chosen field."

He takes a seat and it's no longer a formal briefing or a lecture. The energy has changed in a way that is holy to the Order - this is one traveler telling a story to another. "It's the most desolate, haunting place I've ever seen. Architecture of unknowable size and grandeur, intricate monoliths balanced on a trick of gravity and physics, a city that seems in the process of falling but in every moment [i]resisting[/i]. You can walk for hours before seeing another soul and where you find them they burn bright and radiant, and they have been burning that way for a long time. The people felt like the cities - on the verge of collapse but held aloft by will and magic. They are proud. They are proud because the alternative is to break, and so they are very proud indeed."

You can imagine it. Nero consolidated all of humanity on Tellus - but what if she hadn't? What if the empire had refused to take one single step back and stubbornly clung to every scrap of land? How [i]thin[/i] must it be stretched? More of the map might be coloured in Azura blue, more of the stars might burn Azura purple, but that does not make it more free than Tellus...

"Five Shahs have risen and fallen since Nero took the throne. The latest was a low ranked soldier, favoured by Dionysus and Apollo, who seized power in a harem coup. Like her gods, her reign is likewise a thing of madness and serenity in equal measure. Now she carries the name Xerxes CVI and has sent waves of roving warbands into the black to capture people - [i]any[/i] people - to fill her empty cities."

[b]Alexa![/b]

You're down on a planet, one of many brief stopovers. The sky is brilliant with the reflected light of broken orbital shipyards and solar mirrors. The ground is wet and loamy, and here grow apples.

The Alcedi play, laugh, woop and fight, their ceremonial battles taking on new joy and life as they take wing and engage each other in the air. Tangles of feathers fall on soft soil. Hermetics march all about in their strange organisation, breaking open large rocks to reveal geodes filled with magnificent crystals which are sorted through for those of exceptional colour and quality.

And still you wander, alone and without answers. You are in the shadow of the ruined sky, in the shadow of the clouds, in the shadow of the warship that bought you here, in the shadow of the Alcedi...

And in amidst these shadows you find something as incongruous as a simple apple grove, left to run wild and sweet.

[b]Vasilia![/b]

"Wait, hold up," said Hestia raising a finger. "When the [i]opportunity came up[/i] to dare the wrath of the most powerful organization in the galaxy and it's star-shattering armada of billions, you [i]volunteered[/i]? Uh, Vasilia, I get that you're saying you never had a normal life, but you are aware that's crazy, right? You're going to have to unpack that one for me. [i]Why[/i] does some two-bit space pirate from nowhere decide that she's going to be the one to overthrow the space government?"

[b]Dolce![/b]

Hestia walks past briefly in her bear hoodie, scribbles a note on a post-it before tucking the pen behind her ear, and keeps walking without pause for comment. Her advice is fairly straightforwards: 'Mynx hates eating because she's used to her food being poisoned. Give her an opportunity to snatch a meal meant for someone else'.

And that's it! Hestia doesn't waste time, she knows you've got places to be.

Her casual approach does nothing to dim the splendour of Hera, who even in this quiet place comes in her full divine radiance. She is not a thief or a beggar or a fellow put-upon servant. She knows what she is not and does not pretend to be like you. Instead she shows her respect by coming as what she is, in her full radiance and panoply, with a mighty ox and a splendid peacock by her sides. She got dressed up for this, for you. She takes your problems as seriously as she might take a king's and she sits in unhurried ritual. All her glory makes it all the more wonderful that she eats your soup with appreciation - she is not too good for it either.

And Hades is there too. Unbidden, unasked for. With his bloody-throated bow tie and shining crystal eyes he walks in and begins adding milk and sugar and butter to a bowl. You can see the shape of the cake he's making already and you do not think he's going to make it right.

"Thank you for the offering, Dolce," said Hera. "You're carrying a great -"

"Why are you bothering?" said Hades.

Hera snaps around on him, eyes flashing fire. "[i]What[/i] did you say?"

"It's happening already," said Hades. "They're falling apart. Even the sheep can sense it."

"That does not give you the right -" Hera said, voice ice, but again Hades interrupted her. This time his voice had an edge of passion, even fury that sent a dampening shock through the room.

"It's the same story each time! Dissolution! Despair! Betrayal! Death!" said the God of the Dead slamming and pounding the cake batter with his bare hands. "Artemis hunts and Demeter rages but it is Aphrodite who time and again [i]murders[/i] my crews! You can't hold their hearts together, Hera! You can't save them! They've already failed and -"

Hera slaps him. Hard. He staggers and touches a powdered-white hand to his crimson cheek, and then a faint flush of pink rises to his other. His eyes descend and he returns to his miserable work.

Hera takes a dark and imperious breath, straightening her dress with a dramatic flick of her shoulders. "Please forgive my brother for his insufferable and loutish manners. He is, however, correct," said Hera quietly. "You are cursed, Dolce. All of you are. Aphrodite has cut the galaxy in two and his rift is not just a physical thing. You draw strength from your relationships but those are exactly what is under threat. If you are to survive you must find some other source of strength."

[b]Bella![/b]

The ship has it's own secrets. All ships do, even a populated one. Entire decks lie empty, given over to the strange below-deck combinations of stowaways, parasites, hidden altars, love nests, moonshine distilleries, exotic beasts...

To an outsider like you even the quarters of the Coherent seem just as strange, snapshots of lives abandoned without warning. Here is a movie set where some of them were working on making a feature film and posters for it cover the walls with amateur enthusiasm. [i]Prion Paula VS Djemento 2![/i]. You've seen the posters so many times by time that if you don't make time to find and watch the damn movie you'll go to the grave wondering if it was worth the hype. 

The empty artifact containment bays - the Hermetics outfitted their [i]treasury[/i] with escape pods which seems like some sort of metaphor - are places of strange bureaucracy. Papers scatter desks along with cigarette butts, family photos, an entire tombstone being used as a writing desk as part of some obscure joke you'll never be in on. The Magos' quarters are harder to reach, the passageways to them deliberately obfuscated or requiring either inhuman anatomy or a willingness to punch through walls to access. When you find these they're so personalized as to be either fascinating or embarrassing - all the secrets a Hermetic hides beneath their robes can find full expression in their room; everything from walls covered in equations, to postcards from a hundred different worlds, to attempts to engineer synthetic hands, to a room that's just full of unicorn themed merchandise. 

It's hard to see this as just another starship by this point. The Order of Hermes, for all their mumbling and ritual and knowledge games, were people with their own weird and mundane lives and communities.