There is always time to pet a cat. Just a minor bit of indulgence, and really not even that. Her people need bonds like this, the give and the take. The soft touch and the hard carry, is how her mother once described it. Matty's purrs, and the weight of her body on Mirror's lap are deep therapy. They smooth out the pathways of her thoughts, make following ideas and feelings and plans a simpler process on a day like this where her heart wants everything to be an unsolvable knot of tension and confusion. Her claws slide down the length of Matty's spine and play with the spot just below the base of her tail.

When the world was young (the story goes) and cats had only just discovered they had claws, the bloody-fanged Goddesses of the Hunt sprung up from the sea, from the ground, out of fires, and down from the skies. The precise nature of these goddesses is a riddle with many answers, depending who you ask. They might have been great cats formed from the primal elements of the universe, or they might have been machines from some great precursor society. They might even have been a plague that floated in from some other planet to nest in some unlucky few; granting them power and wisdom in exchange for devouring their minds and personalities. There are many theories, but all came later. The ancient cats of Hybrasil only knew that that these were goddesses, and that they were beautiful and dangerous. These goddesses saw that the children of Hybrasil lusted in their hearts for violence and glory, and said that this was good. They taught cats the secrets of the ways of the spear and the net and told them to conquer the world around them. 

The fury and vibrancy of the goddesses lifted cats toward supremacy. They fought the stones on the ground, and split them into pieces they could arrange into grand temples rising up out of the mountains or the forests to better catch the goddess' eyes. They fought the great beasts that roamed the planet, killed them and ate their flesh to become mighty. They trapped the rivers to steal their power, and turned it toward the earliest concepts of industry. And the goddesses smiled, for this pleased them greatly, and descended once again to demand the payment they were due. 

The Huntresses quavered with fear, but they were devout before a community, and they turned their blessings on each other. The goddesses demanded tribute, and Hybrasilian blood ran down the steps of the temples in reply. But how not to be chosen? Now, this is a legend, and depending on how you count the star charts you might have heard it differently, but here is one telling: the avoid selection, one had to make themselves indispensable. However names were drawn and hearts were crushed, whatever will drove these decisions, it never happened to the best and most prolific Huntresses. Those who hunted the mightiest beasts and came back alive also kept their lives thereafter, always. And what else would this have lit in the hearts of young catkind but competition? Greed, some might say. 

It was the tendency thereafter for cats to be solitary creatures by nature. Their tools and skills were up to the task, so why share? Why want company? There was the kill, and by making the kill you saw the next turning of the moons. Jealousy rose in the heart of every cat, and they split farther and farther apart. Temples fell to ruin from lack of interest in the skills needed to maintain them, for even the priestesses were roaming to hunt. The rivers broke free again, and flooded places long since turned to other purposes. Forests fell and species died off in their dozens. Fires burned across the lodges of Hybrasil, and the goddesses saw this and were not pleased at all. 

Who, exactly, among them had courage and wisdom enough to demand the first bride is an accounting left to experts. It hardly matters so far as this story is concerned. Because when the goddesses began to seek sacrifices to woo instead of eat, ears around the planet perked up from their hiding places in the reeds and the grasses. Up on the mountains and down by the lakes, cats gathered and dreamed of being brought up to live in the harems the goddesses were building. Their bloody deities one by one washed their mouths and turned to their people and said:

I love your fangs. I love your claws and the way you move when you spot the potential for the kill. I love your muscles and your power and your skill, and these will always please me. But more still, I love the softness of your fur. I love the warmth of your bodies and I love the sweetness of your voices. Harden your spears, but soften your hearts and train forevermore in the arts of the veil and the bath, and in this way you shall have my blessings always. Divine intervention had lit the fires of war and creativity in the Cats of Hybrasil. And now divine intervention had awakened in this same people a deep love of grooming and a desire to hold and be held by their peers. Cities grew again, and cats taught themselves to live in harmony with the world around them, though they never quite lost their taste for power and the finer things it could bring them. 

So it was, and so it went, and entire lodges were held together through the sharpest disagreements almost entirely off the back of this single instinct, whether planted in their hearts by a divine will or no. Amusing, to be thinking in these terms now, all of a sudden. To be dreaming of goddesses on the day she was called one for the first time. Funny to even want justification for the desires of her heart. It's not something Mirror normally bothered with or worried about. But this, she supposes, is a day for vulnerability and revelation. Maybe, then, it's normal to worry that she shouldn't want to feel so full from this behavior she has never let herself participate in ever since she grew too large to fit comfortably in her mother's lap. Not as the soft one, or the hard. Neither bride nor goddess. But maybe... but maybe...

Hm. A Sacrifical Bride's gown. Now that would be a fun piece to draw. Oh, she needed to write this down, to hold onto it long enough to find the time to sketch it out. Busy, busy, busy. And from that thought flits another: how to explain to her crew what had happened tonight? She had only left to get information, so far as they knew. And only minutes after giving them that information, she had betrayed them. She'd given away secrets she'd sworn them all to secrecy about. This... could not be a memo. But from her own lips? There were too many ways to tell the story. And besides, to this point, she had nothing to bring back but orders. She was not finished working tonight, not by half. Hm. Hmm.

Slowly, Mirror straightens her legs until they form a ramp. She loosens her grip on Matty, and lets gravity take over. A few more soft touches and, yes, there you go little darling, back on your feet. She's gentle about it. Careful to guide the technician back onto her shaky feet, and hold her there until her brain starts to turn back into a solid. 

"And now our time tonight is over," she says through soft purrs and whispers, "I have work to do tonight. And in fact, I believe, so do you. But we're not done with each other, are we?"

"Mmmgh..."

"That's right cutie, no we are not. In fact, I have a special task for you, when your shift here is ended. Go to the hangar at these coordinates, and announce yourself loudly so the crew can hear you coming. Wear a bell, if you have one. You are to find Slate, can you do that? Find Slate and tell her that you are in her care while I am not around. Tell her who you are and what you're there to do. Tell her who you are to me. Tell her anything you like, on that front. And then let her rage. Do not let her chase you away, but stand quietly in the storm. It is her right to be angry. You are to be one part of my apology. So when she calms down again, obey her. I will be back in the night to see if things are well, and you may decide then if this is a life you want or not. Can you manage all that?"

It's difficult for Matty to speak, still. And difficult for her to even nod with her cheeks all squished in Mirror's hands. But she manages a silly smile and pushes her face forward so Mirror's hands can feel her consent. Her reward is a tender kiss on the middle of her forehead.

"Good girl~"

******

Smokeless Jade Fires? Well, it certainly didn't take long at all to find a suitable prey to hunt now did it? The goddess, Smokeless Jade Fires. The first new goddess of Hybrasil to rise in... well. Who could say how long? The goddess that claims to inhabit her own mecha frame. The goddess who claims not to need a pilot. Who, rumors say, can inhabit any space she pleases, cross any boundary that she wants, manifest in any form whatsoever if it pleases her to do so. 

Ha! There's a lot that could be said about all of [i]that[/i], now isn't there? Is that her priestess? Her, hmhmhmhm, bride~? Hahahaha! It brings a twisted grin to Mirror's lips. Certainly, this is a being she might be able to consider a peer. Certainly this is something to test her teeth on. And most importantly, Smokeless Jade Fires represents another expert voice to ask about infiltrating places that should not be possible to infiltrate. Even if she's not forthcoming, there are secrets that could be... mmmm, pried out? She licks her lips and slips through the crowd after the procession, into the grand hall.

Her promise to eat dinner falls forgotten from her mind. 

"The stars send their greetings, Honored Priestess. Congratulations on your hunt, was this... creature a worthy hunt? Or are you mainlanders as bored out of your skulls as you look?"

Dolly, there's a cat at your table. [i]On[/i] your table, actually. A tall, snowy creature in an all-black neural mesh suit that has been... aggressively unzipped down to her belly button. She's apparently trusting to her curves to keep the clingy material on enough to keep her from getting kicked out of these public, mixed-species zones. She squishes Angela's face between her fingers and turns her head from side to side with curiosity openly etched onto the features of her face, even if it doesn't reach all the way to those cold, watery eyes of hers. 

A moment later she hops down off the table and dips into a wide, sweeping bow. You would be forgiven for not recognizing her, under the circumstances. She probably doesn't seem quite like the shy, drunk girl who must have been working with Mayze Szerpaws on that wonderful dress. But that's exactly who she is, and that's exactly who is leaning forward to share the full glory of her body for a saucer-eyes Ksharta Talonna right now. Her tail flicks with mischief behind her, and her smile is full of teeth.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to interrupt your, ah, meal. Lucky girl that she is. I simply could not help but overhear you outside. And I was wondering, hnnn, who should I be addressing, exactly? Which one of you little cuties is in charge here? Speak up, if you please, I would like to know the price for a conversation with your goddess? Oh, I [i]am[/i] interrupting something, sorry. Go ahead, finish up. Talk amongst yourselves, kittens. Enjoy your night. When you're finished, Mira of the Gods-Smiting Whip will be waiting right over there~"

And with a swish of her hips, Mirror turns in such a way to hit all three of you in the face with her long, bushy tail, and saunters off to find an empty table of her own.