[b]Alexa and Skotos![/b]

"Listen!?" barks the Philosopher, descending on wings of physics to spit out the corpse of yet another bird. "Here we do not [i]listen[/i], for the element of air is not to be trusted! Air is formless and changing, so is it any question that language formed through the shaping of it is by nature deceptive and untrustworthy? Forego the element of air! Zeus appears to us not in the form of air, but in the form of birds - and what are birds but circulating water that soars high enough to see Heaven? Abandon the lying air, sink your hands into wet birdflesh and know wisdom as nations did in ancient days!"

Her followers nod appreciatively and exchange a flurry of sign language in appreciation.

"Nonsense!" came a shout from across the square. The ancient decrepit banner-carrier Azura has spoken, and is rubbing the side of her mechanical jaw from the strain of it. "Nonsense! You denounce the shifting nature of air and instead put your faith in water? What nonsense!"

"Of course not, water itself is dumb and inert and filled with chaotic corruption," yelled the Philosopher to be heard at the proper distance. "I put my trust in blood. Blood, as organic material, exports entropy and generates true organization. Water is not shifting chaos, it is the foundation for life, and in life the Gods make their true will known."

"Nonsense!" yelled back the Banner-Bearer, and their shouted conversation from across the half-empty square is loud enough to make those nearby wince and cover their ears. "Blood is unclean and death displeases the gods! Even if you were correct, the only truth your auspexes would provide would be warning of your impending destruction!"

This debate, such as it is, is doing nothing to stop the two Azura mafiosos from making their way towards you. Compact, foldable weapons are glimpsed in their hands.

[b]Vasilia and Dolce![/b]

This is not a place of decorum.

You are used to kitchens that are clean and organized, communal places where dozens can work side by side. Not here. This is a place of [i]frenzy[/i]. In the centre, suspended in the air, is an Azura with an Athenian four arms. Around her spins an orbital belt of spheres, soaring in and out, positioning themselves with perfect timing for each move and gesture. 

The Apollonian form of relaxation is to reach a state of divine harmony with the world around you. Perhaps you might master a game, or pilot a spaceship, or in this case cook and prepare for a palace simultaneously but the ideal is to reach a state where physical motion is perfect and mental activity is silenced. The ancients depicted Apollo as either sitting, standing, lying or walking; technology has progressed far since then.

You are in a room where one being exists in perfect, thoughtless divine meditation, an epiphany that may have lasted days. This kitchen and the elaborate constellation of floating ingredients and dishes exist in a frictionless liminal space as a broken or transcendent individual replaces the function of an entire society of cooks. 

Is her flawless technique beautiful, Dolce? Or is her isolation terrifying? And how do you approach someone who is so deeply in the zone?

[b]XIII![/b]

"Oh, you don't need to tell me that people's perceptions are sticky," said Beautiful, flash-fire striking as she flicks what smells like dumplings about in her pot. "That's literally a curse Artemis placed on the world. I wish I knew the story, but I can [i]see[/i] the shape of it. Something something [i]wouldn't know it if it killed you[/i]. I guess she was real mad at some point."

She looks around, head tilted to the side, and again the flash of those violet eyes is paralyzing. "I figured out how to murder everyone in the solar system," she said in a voice like she was dreaming.

And then she breaks the eye contact with a jolt and her hands are flying around through spices and sauces again. "Not entirely my doing!" she said in a more normal voice, sharp and quick. "It's those coins you found. The Azura are doing something [i]incredibly[/i] dangerous with those and it's vulnerable to disruption. Now I need to work backwards until I'm only killing the correct people. Behold! Crab Rangoon!" Golden dumplings cascade from her frypan onto a bronze platter that she places in front of you. 

"Problem is there's layers to this," she said, more to herself now, voice taking on a slightly frenzied tone. "Different people want different things, have different tolerances for collateral. Master of Assassins likely has a veto if I get too cute with it. But lots of names on the death list, got some flex on the crews but not a lot. System destruction would be the most [i]elegant[/i] solution and I can't rule out that she knows that..."

For a moment her thoughts seem to run so loud that they almost twist the air around her. And then she jolts back to the present, and eats one of the dumplings. "You know," she said, "I kind of imagined that these'd be fancier, but that's what I get for basing culinary decisions off a joke I can only remember through a mindwipe. It's the smell, though. Smells are really good for memories, and you smell like someone I like. I'm... glad for that. I'm glad that I care about you, and that you wouldn't be cool with me just killing everyone. It's making my job a fucking bitch, but I like the idea that if I do this right maybe I'll be able to make everything work out for someone. It seems improbable that I've had that before."

She smiles for a moment before again switching gears and getting back into her flow. "Bag those, we'll eat on the go. You, me, and the Oratus. We need to be down on the surface yesterday if we're going to pull this off!"