For a moment, Bella is pure heat against Redana's coldness. Her pupil swallows the golden iris and her teeth glint from the prison of her twisted snarl. Her talons today are platinum, and dotted with tiny jewels along her fingers, but their sharpness against Redana's cheek is undeniable. There is a moment where Redana freezes, and Bella burns. The antipodes brought together at last. Now there will be war.

And then with a sigh, the moment passes. One melts as the other freezes, and soon they are simply Bella and Redana again. Bella's face morphs from hot anger into a grotesque, predatory smile. She traces the edge of one talon along Redana's jawline with a casual sort of sensuality the would draw a shuddering gasp from almost any woman in the universe. But here, she earns only another cool, steely glare. She snorts. 

"It [i]amazes[/i] me how many of you morons keep trying to sell me on the wonders of 'the stars beyond.' I've been on the same trip as you, Princess, haven't you noticed? I'm the reason it hasn't killed you yet. And there isn't a single fucking thing out here that I wouldn't burn to cinders if it meant getting back what's mine."

One more time they dance, and this time Bella leads. Wrapped around each other like chains, they wind around the ballroom across every conversation and cluster of self-important Azura pricks. Nothing more than fodder for Beljani's gift, just sacrifices to be lead astray for a little while longer. Bella presses her body tight against Redana's; still there's nothing. Nothing but cold stiff bodies like statues mimicking intimacy without the barest shred of passion. In a moment her heart might forget how to beat entirely.

"Yes Redana, I'm loyal to your mother. Not the Empire. Because she's the only one who sees what I'm worth. I was supposed to die for you when you left, did you know [i]that?[/i] Of course not. Surprise! But your mother intervened. She [i]sees[/i] me, Redana. Like you never could. I am strong. I'm strong enough for both of us, and when I prove it to the Empress she'll reward me with more than any of your precious stars ever could."

She sneers, "Not that you believe in them anymore. Look at you. Pathetic. You're nothing but a spoiled brat trying to squeeze herself into somebody else's story, because you know you can't measure up. Yes, give me that look! It's all you've got left~"

The chime of the bell freezes the blood in her body. Bella stops on the spot, as stiff as a corpse. Her hands shoot off Redana and move toward the skirt of her dress, when she suddenly stops again and glances about. Her eye rolls in the back of her head as the auspex pulses briefly. No, there's still plenty of time. She's being stupid. Bella straightens again, only to dip into a shallow, mocking bow.

Inside her chest, her heart flutters erratically. She mustn't. She mustn't go getting absorbed in anything like that. She's on a deadline after all. There's a plan that must be followed. Her hand trembles as she tosses her hair behind her with a series of bell-like chimes.

"Well. As much fun as this is I've got no more time left to play with you tonight, Your Highness. Enjoy the party, Dany. It's the last time you'll ever be free."

Bella turns on clicking heels and saunters away with the practiced carelessness of a liar. On her way to the far wall, she passes a server carrying a tray with the first wine she's seen since... since before. Since [i]chan-barra[/i] was the only sound running through her life. She plucks a glass delicately from the offered platter and carries it with her without touching it. Only by the way does she swirl it, and sniff the air around it.

She pauses. Frowns. And sniffs again. Her eyes lock with the stranger that arrived alongside those fucking gongs. Her nose wrinkles. She raises the glass near her lips without drinking. Tantalus raises her other arm and beckons at the mystery princess, and swirls her wine while she waits. At long last she takes a tiny sip, and shrugs her shoulders. Dry and fragrant. Ancient grapes in oak barrel, strange spices tossed on top much more recently.

"Inferior vintage," she offers with a nod to Skotia, "But beggars can't be choosers, can they."

Her mismatched eyes bore holes through the stranger's skull. She sniffs the air one more time, and frowns.

"I know you. Now tell me how. You one of Odoacer's calves, escaped from the slaughter? Hmph. You're a long way from home, pretty-boy."