Silence. In the aftermath. The question considered, the question ignored. Silence. Awaiting the replacement drink. Silence. Deep frown, sharp stare, hold for eleven full seconds, break. Retrieve tablet from effects, clear screen. Clear screen. Clear screen. Call up program: white canvas. Retrieve wand. Lines deliberate. Slow. Silent.

The question ignored. The question considered. The question devoured. Draw the glyphs. Turn attention away, acknowledge bartender. Single nod, pause. Thumbs up, slight tremble. Unfortunate. Belch, poison. Shake head. Wince. Inhale air over fresh glass, flowers, grasses, spinach. Sugar, perfect. Flavors to bury a ludicrous amount of intoxicant. Also perfect. Single, delicate sip. Soft sigh. 

Turn tablet toward Marcina Villajero. Display glyphs: "The One-Day Defender". 

"I do not share this with you as admonishment, nor as recompense. This is not a tool by which you may correct your ignorance. It is not how I shall reveal mine. It is a secret, told in confidence, and if you spread it beyond our talk tonight I shall find you in the night and tear secrets you did not even know you had from your brain until I am satisfied I have gotten my fair share back. This trust is offered you because we are kindred. Nothing more or less."

She places her fingers on the screen and pulls apart the layers of the glyph. Complex Hybrasilian glyphs, like the ones used for names, were constructed out of multiple simpler ones that either all or mostly built the meaning of the larger one, though not the way it was spoken. Mira lifts her hands and is left with the glyphs for 'shield', 'shelter', 'time', and 'friend'. 

"War records will show that I clashed with the pilot of the [i]Aeteline[/i] outside the territory of the Hybrasil Research Station [Dappled Sunlight, Rippling Water]. She and I engaged in single combat lasting approximately one full solar cycle. Though I failed to gain any definitive advantage over her in that time, occupying her attention was the difference between a successful raid by the Zaldarian task force and a full civilian evacuation plus data backup and excavation. I am a hero among my people, and this title is proof."

Mira grins with sadistic glee, and pauses to take a long but gentle sip of her drink. Her eyes drift shut and her ears wiggle from the sheer pleasure of it all. And while this happens, her hands blindly strike glyphs from the screen until only 'shield' is left. She turns it on its side. She plucks the wand back off the table and twirls it in her fingers before carefully adding glyphs that read 'shattered', 'food', and 'traitor'. She pauses to look Marcina Villajero in the eyes, and pushes the layers back together.

They form the same glyph as before.

"At the end of our duel I was defeated and taken captive. I spent the rest of the war as my conqueror's personal hostage. I lived in her tent, I followed behind her on a leash, though I would not have disobeyed even if she had removed it. I ate her food. I learned her culture and her way of speaking. And I watched as she tore through my people's lands at the tip of a spear of destruction, theft, and humiliation. Jewels far greater than [Dappled Sunlight, Rippling Water] were plucked and broken while I did nothing. It is debatable if I am the greatest pilot in Hybrasil. It is an absolute fact that I am among them. I accomplished a single great deed, and then I, a hero, sat by and watched my people suffer. I am. Despicable. And this title is proof."

Another sip, a slash of her tail through the air, a quiet and contented sigh. Nothing about her posture or demeanor suggests she is particularly bothered by the conversation or the memory of it, except that the liquid in her eyes seems all of a sudden to have frozen over completely. She rubs the stub of her thumb-claw around the edge of her glass, and laughs.

"Everything I do, I do to the best of my ability, be it matches, maintenance, love, or anything else that strikes my interest. But Victory is a goddess with very distant eyes, Marcina Villajero. And her name, too, can be fashioned out of many words. I do not owe my opponents the respect of crushing them. Wins and losses are irrelevant, except as a path to facing you. I [i]desire[/i] you, Marcina Villajero. Sister from a far-distant star. You have calculated that when we fight, you will be both enriched and victorious. And this is wrong. Dear heart: I will swallow you whole. I will fashion you into a new tail for my Gods-Smiting Whip. And when I do. I promise. I will teach you every secret lesson you desire. That you do not know you desire. That you cannot even shape the words to ask for. Your power will be mine. And I will make you invincible."

Her words hang in the air again as she takes dainty sips from her drink. It is strong enough to melt her body and sweet enough to thaw her eyes. She smiles through a face soaked through with watery inscrutability. She wipes her tablet clean and puts it away again, but makes no motion toward leaving. 

"And we will," she adds in a quiet voice, "I hope. Depart our battle as friends."

[Figure out a person: [b]7[/b]. "What do you love most?" and "What do you truly hope to get from me?" Out of respect for a superior opponent, Mirror will answer a single question in exchange]