[i]Thus spoke Zaldar: The world is locks. Hearts are doors. Violence is the key.[/i]

She did not run. Instead, she was violent. She was not tranquil. Instead, she took the first spin of her frenzied dance. She was not alone. Instead, the cutting beams of the thermal pistols slashed through the floor in a circle below her. It dislodged and she fell straight down to the next level down right beneath the oncoming storm. The god's hand followed her down through the hole she'd cut and she had to fall to her face as she landed to avoid it catching her, rolling away and backing towards the wall. 

Verticality. It was everything when dealing with gods on foot. The challenge of climbing to the empty throne. The peril of drawing that thone's gaze. To win you had to climb. To survive you had to fall. The same as falling in love. The same as making love.

She slipped out through the door, moving through the corridors. She listened. She listened for if the Kathresis would tear a hole through the floor or if it would be gentle. She listened for the crystal chime of its reactor, memorizing what it sounded like as it ascended and fell. She listened for the threats of the Spirit. She could not answer them. She was the weaker here and until she proved otherwise it was her role to be humble. To be [i]mysterious[/i]. She felt the ghostly touch of fur against scale and recalled again the encrypted smile that could make softness dangerous.

Her sword-geists flashed out ahead of her. Together they hunted cameras; spiritual eyes who would betray her. She had to walk unknown and invisible, had to hunt Mirror's way. If her foe was anything like her she'd burn brighter and brighter trying to bring her out of the darkness, giving away all of her secrets in a bid to learn even one of hers. The challenge in this moment was silence.