"I will not beg your forgiveness, Goddess. And I will not make you beg for mine. I should; you have been nothing but rude to me. Doubting me. Mocking me. This petulant behavior does not become you, Little Smokeless Jade Fires. But~"

Voice without a smile. Threat without a snarl. A low purr rumbling throughout, and a tail curling seductively. Mirror flicks the control spike on, bathing her face in sudden and haunting shadows from the pulses of light running up and down the length of it. She flips it over, her clever knife, her deadly claw, and carefully draws down the length of the memory weave. No more awkward bolt, no more bundle, no more worrying or wondering how to make this wearable. She carves it into a long strip and wraps it tight around her wrist, all the way up around her elbow until she finally runs out of material at her bicep. Swish goes the spike as she takes the tip of it to her own flesh, absolutely unconcerned about the smell of burning fur while she spot welds the new sleeve in place. There. That should do nicely, should it not?

Is the next step even possible? Her body is a confusing, seductive wave of motion as she walks closer and closer to the Goddess' projection, watching her storm and her halo of arms through half-lidded eyes. Close enough to touch. She reaches her freshly wrapped arm toward Smokeless Jade Fires' trembling face, and stretches her fingers out.

Beyond question. Beyond doubt. Memory weave is the device she had chosen to gain a sense of control over the physical world: the icon being insubstantial was (amusingly) immaterial. This is a simple contest of wills. Mirror's desire to touch warring against Smokeless Jade Fires' desire [i]to be[/i] touched. Natural alignment. Her fingers brush that statuesque jawline, and the goddess half melts as though overwhelmed. 

"There is no reason to worry, Little Goddess. You will not lose your treasure," Forceful, the way she chooses another word for what was lost overtop the one that was given, "You will not hang yourself on the apple tree in shame. You [i]cannot[/i] drag me down, devour me, or replace me. You are desperate. You. Need. Me."

They are face to face now. Forehead to forehead. Nose to nose. Mirror's hair brushes and tickles the Goddess' shoulders and neck. Her lips are warm and wet. And daring. It is a question of control. It is a question of desire, and poise, maintaining the effort for long enough that sensory compliance is the only option. Mira of the Fisher Clan is capable of kissing a goddess. This is yet another way to Climb The Mountain, is it not? She is forceful but not (yet) possessive. Teasing. Her hand runs down the length of Jade's spine and plays with each of her tails in turn. And then, she splits them. Steps apart, and smirks. 

"You have, in your wisdom, called upon a match for your own divinity. And so you have already won, dear Goddess. You need only be patient. You need only watch. You need only follow. Comply. It's not so difficult, Smokeless Jade Fires. It's not so bad. To properly care for good girls, as you so blatantly long to do, you must first understand how they feel. Understanding means becoming. But you can do that, of course. What goddess could fail to be a good girl?"

Mirror's tongue is rough and teasing against Smokeless Jade Fires' cheek, and her teeth flash bright as the insubstantial edges of her turn suddenly jagged for a moment before they refocus into something resembling clarity. Is this how you took the [i]Aetiline,[/i] Solarel? Is this how you felt? She has to know. The secret. The rush of being you. Until she has it, you'll always slip away. Won't you? Not comfortably in one of her orbits, but far away and chasing things she has no context for or ability to provide. 

Mirror brandishes the now violently glowing control spike and leaps from the Idol's shoulder, slashing it into the tarp to slow her fall. The tension in the fabric tears at her grip and nearly sends her tumbling two separate times, but her fingers relax and readjust along the lines and pockets of lesser resistance just enough to keep her held on. She reaches the ground in one piece. Smokeless Jade Fires is stripped bare and fit for combat, as is only proper. Only a few fluttering tatters still cling to the frame, but those will burn away in motion. 

She laughs before she looks to see what effect this has had on Jade's conception of her own projection. How tied together are they, in fact? And is her good girl coming along at the tugging of her leash? Better hurry, little goddess, or your pilot's going to take over completely and then you'll have no say at all!

"Cut your guiding lights, if you please. They are unnecessary."

Mirror climbs the ladder proper this time, and again waits at the entrance to the cockpit. She grips her control spike tight in one hand while the other worries and plucks at her dress, which has carelessly shifted about on her body and exposed slightly different, slightly wrong parts of her. Are you enjoying the show? Her tail twitches in pleasure. You asked what the Whispered Promise loves more than anything, Smokeless Jade Fires. And here is the answer you arrive at: it is danger. This creature is addicted to it. Not so much the thrill of terror, but challenges, challenges. She longs to be tested and she longs to crush those challenges utterly. She is in mortal form the very thing you aspire to be. A daughter of fishers? It's a crime that the huntresses did not come calling for the One Day Defender.

Perhaps you, perhaps only you in all your wisdom, might understand what that name [i]really[/i] means.

"You will. Want to make yourself smaller. Or we won't both fit inside. You won't want to miss what comes next, I am. Told. My technique is sublime."