[b]Mosaic![/b]

Perhaps when the designer of this beautiful body of brass and fur looked upon the jaguar she thought that she was drawing inspiration from the greatest of predators. From a terror of the jungle, a weapon of stealth, speed and power. But held aloft in the arms of Mosaic she was instructed that this form also contained the nature of a helpless, wide-eyed kitten helpless at the feeling of fangs against her neck.

"Mosaic," she said with a hesitant voice. "Mosaic. Mosaic..."

She was struggling, very gently - there were other things that she wanted to say. But your terms had been clear. Your name on her lips, as fast and secure as a gag. She could only whisper the word to the tune of an increasing blush as she realized how utterly helpless and secure she was, too good a girl to say anything else until given permission otherwise. "Mosaic. Mosaic. Mosaic~" a soft word emerging from the bronze mask to touch against your neck like a kiss.

[b]Ember![/b]

Gemini feigned disappointment. "Oh, Ember," She said. A familiar lesson, saying one thing while scenting another, teaching you to pay attention to the hidden voice above any other. "I fear for you, you know?" the voice was scolding, but the scent was: delight. Warm. Love. Affection. [i]Reward[/i]. "Because you're so very clearly addicted to praise," she said, "that even when you earn it, giving it to you feels like it will Damage your Morals. But what else can I do for the girl who finds such a treasure?"

She gestures, and the pack descends.

You haven't earned a moment like this before. A crushing, shifting group hug; dozens of bodies pressing against yours. Hands reaching over every part of you; ears, neck, spine... One voice after another whispering "Good girl," into your ear before pulling away. Your scent mingled across the entire pack's. Love. Belonging. Reward.

When it parts you're left breathless at Gemini's feet, head in her lap as she runs her hands through your hair and along your ears. "I appreciated your report," she said. "I am impressed with your skill and your fortune. The Howling Rainbow has blessed you and us, and with this treasure we will bring this entire sector to its knees." She smiled, and there was a new scent. A familiar scent. Danger. "That is, we would, if you did not lead the Azura right to it. And all because you could only hold your breath for thirty minutes? I think you need a [i]lot [/i]more practice in that area."

She reached over and picked up one of the unused gags that had been meant for the scribes. "Before we get started," she said, "did you have any last things you wanted to say?"

[b]Dolce![/b]

"I'm old but I'm not [i]that [/i]old," cackled the Decaying Soldier. "What, two hundred years since the war? As far as I've seen, every year the Skies grow more powerful. I'm living proof, eh? My entire species was retired, they replaced us, and even now I hear rumours. Crystal weapons, silicate dragons - new wonders, while the Shogunate stagnates. Mark my words, the Peace of Mars will crack and there'll be another war."

*

"Oh, they're lovely," said the Thoughtful Songbird, and from her dour tone it was clear she was the advocate of despair. "But what about their children? We live in a monarchy regardless of if our monarchs condescend to pretend we are equals. Give even a republic a few generations and we'll be right back to oligarchy, and then inevitably towards empire."

*

"Oh-h-h-h," rumbled the Beloved Spy. "You call us. Their equals? We are. Cavemen. Medieval. Serfs. Culturally, scientifically, politically. [i]Behind[/i]. Do you think integration. Means. Them accepting [i]our [/i]values? When their civilization broke stars. Before ours was born. A bird. Craves seed. It does not understand. When its nesting swamp is dredged. To build a rocket launch pad."

*

There is no need to linger in these conversations much longer; the message is clear. The predominate emotion regarding the Endless Azure Skies is despair. Collapse. Unloving but hopeless obedience. Nobody in Beri contemplates revolution because nobody can even dream of success. There is no love for the Azura but to fight them, even to resist them, seems as unimaginable as fighting the gods.

In the darkness is a rustle, a shifting of sand as it flows uphill, of waves as they crash a little further against the shore. Amidst the distorting gravitational singularities Vasilia meditates, eyes closed. Her ears twitch. "I imagine that was dissatisfying," she said.

[b]Dyssia![/b]

This is a godless process. It feels like a sin. Other work has a strange, drunken flow to it; a storm of thoughts that zig and zag and expand into ever more complex ideas. But in the fleshlabs of the Biomancers even the joy of creation evades you. Instead it's cold and silent, right up until you feel the hot breath of cigarette smoke on your neck.

"You know, I almost got you bastards this way," he rasped. He was heavyset, muscular, a boxer who had let himself go. His scales were a dusty, aged lilac, cracked and splintered. "The very first Biomancer was mine. Did you know? Not a scientist in a lab like these pretenders," he laughed. "A drug dealer. The best drug dealer ever. Named Wonder Whonce if you can believe it. Looked like this," he gestured at his scarred jaw, his lazy eye. "Figured out how to make a smoke so good it'd be all you'd ever need."

He ran his hands over the head of the victim-drone, making it twitch, its growth accelerating, muscles condensing. "See, there's a state called a jhana. It's a state of profound peace and hypersensuality that is deeply spiritually fulfilling. The kind of thing that people back in the day needed to meditate for years to master and here it was in a little roll of wacky tobaccy. It'd last as long as you liked, leave you without side effects, and not interfere with any of your tasks or responsibilities. Wonderful stuff, but you know, every civilization figures out how to do that to themselves at some point. What made my man Whonce special, the evil genius that animated him that I still respect to this day, was that he contaminated that feeling with love."

Aphrodite gave a long, corroding laugh even as the creature under his fingers grew cascading black hair. "Love! What an idea. But then, not only did anyone who tried Whonce's product get the best trip of their life, one that could last for months, but they were so filled with overwhelming love for the people around them that they couldn't help but want to share it. They became evangelists who would beg, plead, wheedle and threaten those around them into trying the product. They wanted to share this feeling with everyone they met. After a point they started doing it at gunpoint. They didn't feel pain and a breath of smoke into the face of a soldier screaming out her last around a bayonet wound would make sure she didn't either. In fact, the soldier would often thank them after the fact!" he laughed again. "Oh, I almost had you that time. I was [i]this [/i]close to wiping your entire species off the face of the galaxy before you even stepped into the stars. Shame. After that it became much more complicated."

The God of Love picked up the drone like a doll. It was radiant, beautiful, perfect. Clumsy and apologetic and weak, perfectly designed to lock Yaji in an infinite loop, two mindless creatures play-acting the injustices of their authors. "Still, you beautiful slippery bastards managed to wriggle your way out of it!" he said in tones of congratulations. "For now. But I'll get you in the end. Time is on my side after all, ha ha ha..."

The drone blinks in the drab lab lights, too artificial to even shiver. It was an inspired creation in the end.