"Hybrasil is not my mother: I was born to space. Grandmother Hybrasil is more appropriate, and I might argue more respectful to begin with. Do you not agree?"

Mirror yawns. She allows it to be long, wide, and in particular loud. Communication of absolute comfort; a total lack of threat detected. The atmosphere here has put her at ease and there is nothing in the sipping of ginger tea, the talk of work, this too-short-too-plain mecha, or this casual opening volley to put tension in her nerves. 

Home at last. The Gods-Smiting Whip welcomes her back eagerly with a sharper response time than she remembers from the duel with Heim Stockar. As if it saw her traipsing across the stars with some strange goddess and said to itself that it would not lose to the Smokeless Jade Fires on any front. Even the tactile response of her control panel feels better than usual. Matty and Slate have earned their special treat time, and more than that besides. 

She allows herself to blink. Even throws in an indulgent stretch. Slow and luxurious. One would be forgiven for forgetting she's in a fight at all.

"Tiger pouncing, empty belly. Tiger crouching, blood on lips. Suppose you've done your reading and observation on me as well, then. Am I a cornered smuggler, pinned down in my hold? What a wonderful thought. Almost as if nothing I do here matters. How freeing~"

Her trident flashes in front of her in a series of crisp, tight thrusts. This is all the motion she offers to bat aside the volley of laser fire, and that only to avoid damaging her fresh paint job. It's a fun little puzzle she's offering for Kiriala: these attacks she has chosen as her method of damage avoidance require the planting of her feet and locking the Gods-Smiting Whip into stances that (theoretically) preclude several types of countermeasures for any follow-up attacks. In a very real sense, for the terrain she finds herself in this attempt at the so-called 'neutral' path has committed her next moves far more strictly than if she'd simply dodged to any side. 

But her three active tails (One, Two, and Three today. Really, Matty?) are poised and pointed to cover her body. Any of the basic lines that could be taken to make use of the spear or the net would be met with instant, guaranteed amputation at the luckiest. The fight over before it started. What will you reveal, Kiriala? If you pounce, you ignore the threat of her tails and say that from the beginning this match was nothing to you. If you hold back, wary of her tails, you tell her you've been watching, reading, building your profile, and you're ready to play that card for the sake of tournament seeding.

But if you find the secret she's left inside this trap... well. Promises, promises, Kiriala of the ginger tea.

"Actually, I'm rather fond of the arena they've chosen for us. Seeing as this is so near to pointless for both of us, could I convince you to lie down with me, instead? You strike me as the sort who would enjoy the chance to take nap on the job. And my family would certainly appreciate my taking the opportunity to catch up on rest. I have been... neglecting the need for some time. If you understand me."

(Figure Out a Person: [b]7[/b]. Asking "What do you hope to get from this match?", and since this is a combat, "What do you want me to be?". Holding the third question in reserve for now]