Impossible not to follow the eyes. Impossible not to notice where they turn. Impossible not to catch the spark. Impossible not to feel the fear. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. 

Mira's whiskers twitch. Her shoulders stiffen. Her tail flicks at a subtly different rhythm than it had before. Her hand makes the tiniest of motions toward Matty, but that is for her kitten's benefit alone. She makes no attempt to stop what is happening. She makes no attempt to understand it. Understanding is impossible. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

Easy to want something. Easy to dream of it. Easy to long for it every night in the safety of the dark and the quiet. Easy to believe her heart and its needs were something other than what they were. Other than ugly. Other than selfish. Other than greedy, grasping, possessive, dominating. That her heart would not flinch when she got exactly what she told reflection that she wished for. But the wince is inevitable. To not is impossible. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

She is frozen in place. Caught between desires and Desire. She is tumbling into an abyss and cannot say whether she wants someone to catch her. Whether she needs someone to catch her. Whether it is safe for her heart to race this fast outside of her cockpit. Whether her fingers should be moving this much or this fast without a control panel to burn the inputs on. Whether she should be doing more. Or less. Whether she is a disappointment or a revelation.

She slips her gaze through Solarel's, into Slate's eyes. They share a long look, the three of them, without ever looking at each other. Mira frowns, and Slate sniffs. Her offer to Kiriala is a shrug, unconcerned. Think what you want, do what you want, it will not break your promises. She watches Matty with her arm out just far enough to allow the smaller cat to seek shelter there if she needs it, without implying that she should. 

No one is told what to do. No one is told what to think. Something is happening here, now, the ground is shifting underneath her feet. She cannot sleep again if she does not let it happen. If she cannot absorb this moment then the only thing left for her to do would be to quietly leave the party and destroy the Gods-Smiting Whip before anybody could clock her location. But doing that would kill her. Doing that would be impossible. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

So she lets them make their choices. So she wraps a hand around Solarel's waist and gives her another squeeze before letting go without a look. So she shrugs, and opens her mouth, and closes it, and opens it, and closes it, and opens it again but only breathes until her breath becomes the words ringing inside her ears finally escape.

"First time. Eighth time. Thousandth time. Doesn't. Make a difference. There will. Never be. Another. That is. Your hint. That is. Your warning. That is. A promise."

Because if she cannot win this time, there is no point in trying again. It would be. Impossible.