Titans. Such an Evercity phrase. As though they were monsters. As though they were defined by their size. As though they did not glow upon the earth like stars descended; as though they could not make the grass grow violet or the rain fall with their howls. As though they were things that stood upon the world rather than rising up as part of it. As though there was a world outside them, like life was worth living outside them, like you could say what you meant outside them. As if the entire digital spirit realm existed for a purpose other than cultivating the Gods whose violence was the only path to legitimate communication. As if there was a purpose to the steppe and howling wind and rising Gods other than the battle they could offer.

Perhaps that was the answer... mm, no, maybe even the idea of [i]an [/i]answer, a linear twist of translation from Mirror's shifting mind to her own direct and straightforwards one was incorrect. Nothing Hybrasil was like that. Two things could exist in parallel. Starving and as picky as a princess. Ancient and timeless, yet grown and new. A glyph that meant different things depending on the context. Always one layer of defense; over words too? I am this, unless you are not, in which case I never was. Here is sound; it is upon you to decide on the meaning(s).

Words so raw like they were trying their best to scrape free even that instinctive veil. Afraid that even that vulnerable clarity would not be heard. 

She was on a synthwave planet in the land of the spirits amidst a war of motion speaking with bound hands to someone who was not a catgirl. She hardly knew what to do with the directness. <I would show you>. Finger touching the heart, finger touching the eye, finger pointing at her. No chance to mishear, no complexity of body language, no veil over meaning. The body language [i]was [/i]the language. The you was the subject pointed at. For a moment she felt dyslexic, bound hands stumbling, mind unable to process the sheer bluntness of the statement. She must have been alien indeed if this is what she was like. No range of possibilities in her speech. If Solarel had secrets they'd lie unexpressed and buried, rather than half-expressed where a loving ear might understand them.

<You haven't changed -> she starts to sign, and then she stops. [i]Speak not to the outsider[/i]. She looks at her hands. Is this right? Isn't this the most clear and unambiguous speech she could possibly be making to an outsider, this language without ambiguity, this statement of physical intent?

She stopped. Lowered her hands. And then spoke - in Hybrasilian.

"An'Suhn'Na'Nq'Muhn'Dohl'Vsht'Suhn'Sa'Syr," she said, concentrating, letting her tongue flick the roof of her mouth and against her teeth like she'd been taught ([i]and taught...[/i]). She'd practiced it. It wasn't right. Ambiguous and accented and hardly speech at all. "You reach past the moon for the stars still, disregard your own senses for answers invisible. Zaldar wrote her code in plaintext and you scrutinize the font." She licked her lips. Speaking was so troublesome. She saw the Hybrasilian warrior translating for Annika, and she felt strangely at peace. Like this was no sin at all.

And therein is the riddle for Annika Nornsdottr, run through ambiguous translation. Solarel is not interested in knowledge for its own sake. She is a barbarian of the steppe and knows to take things on faith, and knows not to look for the secret meaning behind things. These blasphemous designs hold no temptation for her, motivation must come in simpler terms: Threats or bribes. Either would work, either would be a tenuous hold.