There is a difference between compatibility and belonging. There is a difference between acquaintance and family. There is a difference between ease and comfort. 

The Whispered Promise is nothing but a mercenary, after all. She is whatever you ask her to be, but never more than that. Things can't be clearer than when the true circle closes around them. This is... the same thing. The same feeling, the same connections that she craves, but turned toward a purpose she does not control. This is the moment where Smokeless Jade Fires finally bests her. 

The invitation has expired. She does not belong here.

Mirror takes the grass crown on her head with due grace and dignity, and as silent as the stars. She is careful, gentle when she hands Dala Hunters over to the smirking engineer. She does not return the smile, but her touch lingers on the softness of the priestess' cheek. Her fingers trace down that neck to the mark burned into it. Her eyes linger even longer than her hand. 

She turns and faces the idol of Smokeless Jade Fires. Farewell, Little Goddess. Yours is the only frame apart from her own Nine Tails she has ever been able to pilot. That has been worth the price of trusting you. Come and call on her again, if you think you can afford her a second time. 

She bows deeply, with a great flourish of her left arm while her right extends out, palm to the sky. Not a gesture of Hybrasil (not even of a trickster), but a gesture Terenian princes use to woo their courtesans. She's watched all about it with Solarel. Hold the pose, three, two, one, wink. 

She stands and blows a kiss before she walks away without a word.