She has blue hair? Does she? In all this walking she's never really noticed. When would she have looked? All the mirrors here have been dusty or distorted or outright shattered, for whatever reason. All the rivers have been too dangerous to gaze into, if not for themselves then because stopping and staring at a river is not walking forward. And if she knows anything at all, it's that she has to keep going. 

But blue hair. Blue. Such a different color from her fur. She's spent so long looking at what's in front of her that she'd forgotten things could be behind her. The girl reaches over her shoulder, and finds her hair is more than long enough to tumble over her shoulders if she'd only let it. All she needs to do is cut the tie holding this tight ponytail in place, and she'd see the truth for herself. Her fingers tremble. 

She has no idea why this should be frightening. And yet it is. Vesper is a riddle; always so impossible to tell whether she's joking or making the kind of insightful point that might change your life forever. It's hard because the jest and the truth both smell the same coming from her, since usually the answer is that she's managing both at once. But then, could she really be a Duchess? What would that even mean?

What would... that... even mean? If. If her hair is really blue, then Vesper is telling her the truth. And people will follow her. And that's the thought that makes her spine shiver and her tail twitch behind her. That's the fear that makes all her fur stand up on end and her skin tingle with those strange little bumps that either mean she's very cold or very excited. That's the possibility that's making her heart pound so heavily in her chest that all of her muscles seem to have stopped working and turned the blood in her veins to a high pressure prison cutting across her entire body. 

If her hair is blue, then everything about her has to change, doesn't it? But if it's not, then... it doesn't. And which of those possibilities is the worse thing to have to live with? She swallows, and hears the snip of her claws freeing the silken tumble of her long, luxuriant hair. She looks down, and realizes her eyes are squeezed shut tight. She forces them open. First the gold, and then the bloody one.

Her hair is black. Her lips purse, somewhere between elation and disappointment, when the strands slip through her fingers and catch the light as it rolls across her chest. The girl sees the truth with her own patchwork eyes, and the truth is a flash of cobalt she can never forget again. She tries to swallow, but mouth has filled with cotton. If only she hadn't thrown that bottle away.

"So it's," she stammers, unsure, "So it's true then? I'm, or at least, some parts of me are..."

She falters. The girl has no idea what word she's looking for. It would help if she knew what a Duchess actually was. A lot of the concepts Vesper likes to talk about always feel blank inside her head. But this one reminds her of another word that's never very far away from her heart. Rather, a pair of connected words that are too important to ever throw away. The first, Princess. The second, Empress. 

Words so heavy, so safe, and so important that a person could cross an entire universe just for their sake. If only anyone were up to a task like that. Her hand lifts to her cheek, and flicks away a rolling tear she didn't notice was staining her face. 

"Mosiac?" her voice is hopeful and uncertain in the same equal parts as the misshapen rest of her, "That's a form of artwork. The stones don't arrange themselves this way by accident. If that's me, it means somebody put me together this way on, on purpose. Did they? How could they? What would they even?"

Her thought is interrupted by a sudden sneeze. And after that sneeze, a laugh. A soft and melodious laugh that makes every hand that hears it itch for a drink and leaves them all leaning forward to catch the final notes.

"Oh, damn you. You jerk, I just realized what you're doing. You've got me so stuck on this whole thing I didn't even notice you were still trying to call me beautiful. That's not fair, how am I supposed to disagree with you when I don't even know we're fighting?"

She turns to Vesper, who used one other word for her in all the ones she'd chosen which was the most important of them all. And remembering it, she smiles. Not a wide smile, full of her sharp and delightfully pearly teeth. Just a tiny thing. Soft. Vulnerable. Trusting. 

"All right, you win. I don't know if this is one of your seed names or if I'll have to carry it forever but... sure. If you really think I'm meant for something, I could be Mosaic."