The first sound she hears is a dull clunk: an awkward and atonal thing that's as far from beauty as this rusted, dying crapsack of a ship is from the heart of the Empire. It's a stunted noise, nothing more than a tiny bit of rubber striking a piece of pinched metal. It is the sound of a dancer catching her foot on a scrap of silk and falling on her face. One brief moment of attempted beauty cut down at the knees by poor execution. 

But it bends her ear all the same. Bella half turns her head to put sight to the ugly noise. And she sees the bell flick loose from the collar it got caught in. The sudden symphony of chimes puts her heart straight into her throat. Her ears flutter stupidly with each new jingle. Her fingers squeeze Beljani's hand hard enough to turn it into dust; the only way she has to acknowledge the two moments pinching her together in their vice at the same time. 

There are three bells, two small and one larger than any that she'd worn in her time. They have their own distinctive tones and pitches, high and clear or low and soothing, and when they blend together it sends the kind of tremble down her spine that pulls her foot around with her consent and moves her a full step closer. The call of them. The smell of silver and leather and silk. The smell of sweat and brine and nervousness. The feeling of organs crawling around inside her. 

"What... the fuck?"

Bella's eyes seek the floor, instinctively searching out protection. She tries to pull her head away to search for the spiral and save herself in the depths of the hunt, but gold and silver paths both are hidden under clouds of cigarette smoke. The party falls away as if the whole of the [i]Plousios[/i] was toppling over and crumbling into a great bottomless pit that leaves only this tiny, smoking platform left to stand on. The only important place in the universe.

So looking to the floor only helps her see the pair of dainty bare feet begging for attention and painted toes. When she retreats, muscular calves and thighs expertly not covered by triangles of diaphanous silk are the only road she has to run on. Up the thighs, and between, to the colors held there. Soft blues, purples, and golds that make her body melt and freeze at the exact same time. 

Her breath hitches. The Auspex traitorously records every bare millimeter of Redana's body. The twitching of her abs as she sways and rolls, the princess not quite able to stop herself even as the reality of her situation catches up to her. Nervousness and confidence circle each other like twin hawks, and between them drops of sweat trickle down her royal skin in patterns that make Bella's tongue press itself against the backs of her tightly clenched teeth. 

Dizzy. Hot. Her body sways in mirror to Redana's. She only barely remembers to let go of Beljani before her feet carry her forward again in a daze. Her face must be crimson just now. Fuck it. Just... fuck it. Her eyes travel up, over the soft and tiny breasts that haunted every dark, lonely night and terrified her at every bath and oil massage. Her tongue is turned to lead. Her mind along with it. She sniffs, and there's not a smell in the room that is even the slightest bit tolerable, let alone appealing. But she drinks deep of them like a woman dying of thirst, deeper, deeper, deeper. It is the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. 

Up, up. Past the perfect collarbones, to the collar with the beautiful bells. To the bouncing, dangling silk that covers the neck. Up. To the face. To the eyes. Mismatched, just like hers. Staring, just like hers. Gems. Stars. A universe worth of treasure, locked all on her.

She steps forward. Closer. Closer. Again. Tiny steps that use her entire body, send the motion through her hips and waist and arms as if to show her princess an example. Like this, you moron. To set someone's heart on fire, you move like [i]this[/i]. 

The tip of her tail brushes Redana's stomach and across her waist as she passes. Anything more would have been impossible even if she wanted it. But on this day of treasures and miracles, this might stand as the sweetest of them. Bella's face betrays equal parts embarrassment and confusion, but her body is heat, power, and confidence. She steps forward again, farther away this time, and stops. 

She runs her fingers over the scale in her palm, and plants her feet on the ground. It's her, between the princess and the party. No entry without permission. Bella sniffles once, barely audible. Just a leftover reflex from a moment before. The joy of gaining a sister. Nothing more.

She is being greedy enough already.