"Mira of the Fisher Clan," she corrects, "Whose star name is Whispered Promise. 'Mirror' in the modern alphabet. An undefeated pilot who has expressed discontent with every single one of her matches, in actual fact. You do your research, Adriana Teresio, but there are limits to your network. You may tell your spies I have enjoyed the chase."

Mirror dips into a low, sweeping bow, kicking one foot out as if to physically brush aside the 'unusual control structure' comment. Unnoticed. Utterly beneath a response. Look elsewhere, Consortium Queen. Look elsewhere, Uncrowned Princess. The pair of you may look anywhere on the Whispered Promise except that singular phrase. It does not exist. Behold her body, her fur, her spots, these ribbons, this crown, this exhibitionism-to-the-point-of-ridiculousness. The tension in her body that has nothing to do with her exposure. The opening of her eyes, visible even through her extensive modifications.

She sniffs.

"They will not come. The [Children of Hybrasil]. Because you are dressed as a Bride, Adriana Teresio. You are being handed to a Goddess, though which I could not say. You have chosen sacred garments for a sacred ceremony, and they will not cross into your miasma for love or conquest. Because you are anointed in [Nectar]. It is harvested from a flower that grows in the Empire's core worlds. Breathing it will open your eyes. Imbibing it will open your mind. Religion. With [Nectar] we can see the meaning of our star charts. Of the stories. Your eyes are closed, I see. But perhaps for a Terenian, our sacred drug opens the pathway to the heart?"

Mirror shrugs, and the gesture ripples her ribbons like waterfalls. We are both of us sacrifices to the intentions of Mayze Szerpaws, she says inside that gesture. Is the challenge to your liking? What kind of woman runs the Terenian Empire, really? Might we be friends, given the opportunity? But the motion of her shoulders comes to an end, and with it the chance for a reply. Her eyes like deep, yawning pools move from the woman who owns everything to the girl who owns... well, hm. 

"Continue the lesson. Adriana Teresio. I have interest in the rituals your species uses on the education of your kittens. I will wait my turn to dance with Miss Isabelle Lozano."

The name drips like honey off her tongue. Strange emphasis, with importance placed on every single syllable. Slight slurring at the edges, where the vowels fight with the chirping of her native language. She is looking for the star name inside the Consortium construction. And what has she found?