[b]Mosaic![/b]

There are yellows that fade into muddy brown or corrupted orange. This touches on electric green. 

Once it had been designed for concealment, a faceless hunch, a blackened void. Tropical conditions, a litany of battle, and a repressed fashion sense have done for that. Now you see the lower half of a jaguar, lightless obsidian, plated with fabric stretched over steel. What had once been robes were remade as armour plates, that thin layer of neomaterial stronger than the metal frame that supported it. Four fierce paws scratch at the ground, feline grace admixtured with the fierce stomping of a horse.

Above the jaguar rises a machine angel. Here the torn robes give way to feminine curves written in chrome metal and glittering crystal. A fierce mane of hair, running all the way down her back, moves as though it was underwater, as though it was blown by the wind. Her face wears a pale golden death mask set with jasper and lapis lazuli. Wings comprised of thickly-bunched cables and wires, brightly coloured and moving like tentacles, rise up above her. There is nothing like her in all the galaxy; she is artist and canvas both. Some part of you wonders if the reason she hid this from you in the past was out of the fear one so glorious must have of arousing the jealousy of the gods themselves.

"Mosaic!" blares the jaguar angel, voice distorting as it tunes into human frequencies. "In the name of Hermes, the custodians of this mountain have hired me as their defender. Though the Skies may fall, the price of stone shall be paid. Run back to the Royal Surveyor and let him know that the Arquebusier will defy him and all his whipped hosts."

[b]Ember![/b]

There are colours in the deep.

Poseidon is always out of reach. To the Azura he was the sky; to humanity he was the sea; where the two merged there was the rainbow. Here on this world, with civilization taking place in the sweat and sun, he has taken on his human aspect. You are of the sea, you are of the outside, you are the scratching claws and winter howls on the edge of civilization. And so the oceans are yours. So too are its treasures.

Glowing corals light the way. Jellyfish that hunt like sharks, spearing salmon on lightning quick electrified tendrils, light up the dark with blue and bloody red. Schools of fish surround deep water vents, feeding on the exotic chemicals and refining them internally until they can detonate with the force of a grenade. Crabs. An arsenal in the depth, a growing peril, an arsenal awaiting a diver who has gone deep enough, waiting with the promise of the end of worlds.

And beyond these lights, in the lightless depths, surrounded by an ocean of toxic filth, looms a leviathan. Larger than a mountain. A vast underwater structure the likes of which you have never seen before.

[b]Dolce![/b]

"For official use only," said 20022. "We're too far from the centers of power to be particularly cautious about an intelligence threat, so you're not going to bring the Skies down with a little loose talk, but discretion is always appreciated. I can put you in touch with Service councilors or a union representative if you'd like information from someone other than me. It's very natural to want to follow an authority figure in isolation, but we work for an [i]institution[/i], and trust me when I say that there is no higher pleasure for any of us than understanding what that means."

He smiled and stood. "Oh, and just so you know, there are a plenty of perks. Corrective biomancy, choice of assignments, wellness retreats, objective-based work, high quality management. All of us are our best selves after a good night's sleep, a full breakfast and a delicious cup of tea, and the Service will ensure that you're always at your best."

And, if there was nothing further, on that note he'd leave with a smile. The Mayor's bodyguards carried him, stiff as a plank and snoring, heels and shoulders out through the door, leaving you in the ruins of your destroyed cafe.

[b]Dyssia![/b]

You quickly hit an obstacle. What's worse is that you know how and why she's an obstacle: Lieutenant Yaji, stabilization clone. She's an artificial Pix directly administered by the Biomancers who serves to enforce ideological uniformity amongst the Pix. She immediately identifies the Pix talking about your dangerous new ideas and picks a fight with a few, stealing their badges and redistributing them to loyal maids. She is the direct manifestation of the Biomancer's will, an optimized darling of the Art designed to be stronger, faster and more charismatic than all the Pix around her; a cultural paragon who will bend all of her natural gifts towards maintaining the status quo.

Your idea has appeal but it won't get traction so long as Yaji's collar is around the neck of her sisters. You need to accomplish two things: Removing or discrediting her, and staging some sort of mass breakout before she can be replaced - it's still not everything you want, but it's the only path forwards you can see in the time you have.

Luckily, Yaji is pretty knowable. She spends all her time engaged in or listening to gossip, taking a malicious delight in going after nonconformists. She takes a particular pleasure in looting the finery of her sisters and walking about in sweeping luxury. She exceeds in grandeur even the Captain but her unambitious mean girl nature means that she never makes a move against her, stifling political mobility at the top if a third of all social capital is locked up in the body of someone who embodies the status quo. She likes tea parties, party parties, ruthless public mockery, and ruthless public demotions and punishments. How will you get her out of the picture?