This is not a place of pleasure.

She has to keep reminding herself as she crosses the party. She is here to do a job and if she lets even one extra thing into her heart she's going to wind up breaking all of them into pieces. She is here to find Mynx. Put right just one of the hundreds of things she's done wrong. Any more distractions can only hurt her, can only cost her everything she's trying to protect.

But. The drumbeats pound thunder inside of her bones. Echoes ache in her lungs, pull at her brain, rattle through her body until she can't possibly help but adjust her steps to follow the rhythm. 

But. The smoke lives inside her lungs now. Bella is trained against the corrupting influence of Oratus pheromones, but she has no defense against drugs fit only for hedonism. This is a haze of celebration made to enhance the pleasures the victim is already feeling. Evil. It could even be one of Mynx's poisons, she doesn't know. She doesn't care. She [i]can't[/i] care. The taste on her tongue is sweeter than flower wine, her arms pulse after every heartbeat with a fresh surge of power in relaxation in intoxicating tandem. Every flick of her tail behind her tingles with strange warmth that demands she touch something soft so she can spread it.

But. Her eyes are filled with the sight of Redana. Redana, in her silks. Redana, with her softly singing bells that Bella's ears insist on hearing overtop the chaotic music. Redana, swaying her hips with the sultry confidence of a temptress. What happened? Where did that awkward little princess go? The sight of her bare back pulls Bella helplessly forward with every ripple of those Olympian muscles. She would follow this plan of the Princess' whether she agreed with it or not. 

The smell of her. Lust and nerve and determination painted over perfumes of several warriors of Ceron. Bella grimaces, and her claws stretch in warning as she glides silently behind her prancing princess. She forces herself closer, and closer still, pushing through the crowd until their bodies are near enough that the wrong step will send them tumbling into each other.

The wrong step happens over and over again. Bella's hands are gentle on Redana's soft skin. Wrapping around her shoulders, stealing touches, stealing squeezes, stealing precious seconds of contact under the guise of putting the silly girl back on her feet with a tiny growl of admonition to go with each. This little act of theirs is pathetic. If Mynx were her usual self she'd fall out of hiding just to roll on the floor laughing at the pair of them. Just fuck already, she'd say if the two of them were alone on the [i]Anemoi[/i]. And then her scales would ripple in her equivalent of a blush she wouldn't be able to hide in the time it would take her to say she was kidding, she was just joking, gods, Bella.

What the fuck was she thinking? This is [i]not[/i] a place of pleasure.

Mynx isn't her usual self. Only an idiot didn't know what Rampancy looked like, and what cure was anything she had to offer against that? All she can do is offer her neck in penance, and even that would only push her further down into ruin. She needed a miracle far beyond forgiveness to fix a single fucking thing.

And Redana... doesn't say a thing about Bella's touch. All she does is look away, adjust her veil, and return to her search. Those little glances back are reprimands, checks to make sure the former handmaiden is sticking to the plan. And she knows this with certainty, because every time, Redana steps away. Every time, she chooses to be a hero. 

Instead of Bella's. A lifetime's worth of dreaming and hinting and carefully worded questioning with nothing to show for it should have been enough to teach her that. How was she supposed to overcome that? How many times was she going to forget she had nothing to offer a woman who could snap her fingers and have anyone in the galaxy she desired, whenever she wanted? What was she supposed to say to compete with that? I love you?

Ridiculous.

The true form of the toxin reveals itself. Pleasure turns to paranoia. Ease turns into unbearable tension. Bella sniffs deeply and loudly, trying to find a scent, literally any scent, that isn't Redana's. But there are none, apparently, in the entire room of full of Bacchanalia. Her claws strain at the end of her fingers. Mynx is coming. And Bella still can't find her. 

She needs Redana for that, too.