She presents herself as a pilot. But what does that mean? 

Obvious, after a moment's consideration. Alleviation of team's concerns. Creation of alibi in case of trap; prevention of intervention. Preferable to be alone. Vastly preferable, in fact. Reasons too numerous to catalog. Moreover. More importantly. 'Present yourself as a pilot'. The command of a goddess. But to pilot a god is to conquer a god, and to conquer a god is to make yourself known to them. Impossible to spend so much time with Solarel and not understand that. 

Therefore, Mirror arrives dressed for a date. With sharp talons painted in black, curling around the corners of her eyes and three lines of red slashed across her lips. With her glossy avalanche of hair woven into such an elaborate net pattern that it pulls all the way up to just underneath her shoulders, with tasteful feathers tied into a smaller braid tied in the Terenian fashion dangling by her left eye. With painted claws and high heeled sandals that lift her several extra inches off the ground and conform beautifully to the curve of the soles of her feet. With a necklace of amber and lapis lazuli beads around her neck that features a pair of blank metal tags as a pendant that sinks into the valley of her breasts.

The low-cut diving suit is not a Mayze original, but it is the picture of modern Fisher chic. The backless design plunges all the way beneath her tail, where it comes together in a sharp point. The left arm is wrapped in a water-soluble sleave extending just past her elbow, an invitation to adventure. The right arm is kept bare but for a tight-fitting, fingerless glove, a promise to be open but protective with her partner. The large triangular pattern cut open across the stomach is tastefully showy and allows her to accessorize with a large teardrop cut aquamarine piercing at her belly button. The right leg extends down to her knee while the left is bare all the way from the hip in mirror of her upper body, while the multi-layered silk half-skirt flutters down to the floor to give her that fishtail-like allure no cat can quite resist turning their head to watch.

It's the nicest dress she owns, even if it is an off the rack piece that anyone could wear if they new where to look. It hides most of her worst spots and none of her intentions. Ideal. Her hips sway seductively with every step; her tail flicks in the opposite direction her skirts swish. The blade you wear openly hides the sharpness of your teeth. Such a shame this look wasn't being shared with the person it was originally meant for...

She accepts the memory weave without comment, clutching it in one hand without making any effort to... put it on? Why would she bother? [i]How[/i] would she bother, an unshaped bundle like this? Should she wrap it around her waist like a corset? Toss it over herself as a scarf? ...Tie it into the galaxy's most awkward, ugly scarf? She chuckles to herself and simply slings the entire thing across her shoulder like would with a spear. Well thank you very much, Goddess. Now nobody can complain she hasn't presented herself appropriately. Professionally. 

Clues are spread out before her, in a tantalizing string. The lights, dimmed. The huge idol of Smokeless Jade Fires and her many cameras emit more and better light than the hangar itself. Shame, deep shame of a creature experiencing defeat for the first time. Determined to appear proud while licking her wounds. The memory weave, unfitted. Freshly purchased. A hastily assembled plan. The invitation itself, still tucked carefully into her stack of papers (destroy it? Are you joking, goddess? Do [i]not[/i] waste paper!), could not possibly have been conceived of more than an hour before it was sent along to her.  The target, herself, a person with only brief contact with the priestess girl and no (well. no "official") contact with the sender. The message delivered by a technical member of the... crew? Cult? The Priestess missing here, as well.

Something she wasn't meant to see? Or... 'rewarded as I deem fit. Until you are satisfied.' An intriguing puzzle, and the real thing that brought her out here in the middle of such a lazy, satisfying evening. How far into the confidences of Hybrasil's newest deity was she about to be drawn? Mirror's fangs flash for the camera as she offers the massive, cloaked Idol a low and flourishing bow. 

"I am relieved to see you dressing up as well, Little Goddess. I would have been embarrassed to get so done up for our date only to discover you'd intended something more... casual. But fun comes after dinner and dancing, does it not?"

Mirror hefts the roll of memory weave with a smile. She punctuates the gesture with a slow lick of her lips.