[b]Mosaic![/b]

"I was once strong," said Quajl. "I... remember, I was a creature of industry. Hulking arms. Furnace breath. Endless motion, but never moving. I moved things from one place to another, crossing many miles, but my heart remained the same. My thoughts remained the same. And my unchanging thoughts couldn't explain what my unchanging heart wanted."

She does not help build. She is a creature of elegance, grace, precision, distance. Her arms are thin, and she carries no sword.

"But that was what I found on the road," she said. "Not a new dream. I found new thoughts. New ideas. New people. New ways of moving, new ways of talking. And as I learned, as I understood, I started... being able to explain what it was that my heart wanted. I learned the thoughts to want. I learned the words to ask. I learned the skills to draw the blueprint. I learned the courage to build it. I could never forget those lessons, no matter the miles, no matter the path."

The sun was setting. She looked away from it, to the distant stars. 

"I don't know what your heart yearns for," she said. "But you'll never find the words to explain it if you don't reach for them."

[b]Ember![/b]

The pack circles. The decision is made collectively; there is no chance of delay, deferment, of stratagem. The wolves sense the fight and they demand entertainment. The only way to change their course is to offer them something even more interesting than this, a pup against a wolf.

Taurus stands. She flexes. She is not subtle, muscles straining the fabric of her divesuit. A low, throaty growl, almost a purr, runs from her throat and up your spine. She was full of strength and her strength wanted to be used. Strength for its own sake, expressed to its natural limits. What greater joy could there be?

She doesn't turn to words. She doesn't reach for weapons. Instead she reaches for throat and leg, for joints and wrists. She seeks the pin, and the prisoner she was promised.

[Roll to Overcome]

[b]Dolce![/b]

"Oh, absurd," she said - but she softened the tone towards the end as kindness defused fire. "That is to say, the Skies and the Manor are opposite extremes. The Manor was a thing of unchanging stability, left to its own self governance, intended to run forever. But if you're looking for it, change is [i]everywhere [/i]in the Skies. You told me of the Decaying Soldier - the Corvii are here because they've been surpassed, improved upon. What does that mean? If it was a self-sustaining system there'd be no need for that."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and gently settled down to the sand, the Rail's whir dying. "I grew up in a place where change was possible. Power could change hands. Civilization could progress. I see the signs of that in the Skies. I can feel the weaknesses. The ambition. It makes my heart race. It's reaching for something, and that means opening its fist - even if only a little."

The sea breeze rolls in from the ocean. She breathes deeply. In the distance tallships cross the horizon, sails heavy with the wind.

[b]Dyssia![/b]

Shock turns into a sneer. Hatred and contempt. In the twitch of that lip you can sense the words 'you don't understand', but he can't even say that. You do understand and you're defying him anyway, in full knowledge of how pointless it was. 

There is a roll of distant thunder. Aphrodite looks away towards it - hatred and contempt - and is then gone.

In his place there's a strange, glittering energy. You're defying a god. You're envisioning a god's motives. You're embarking on a doomed quest for reasons of aesthetics. The energy of Dionysus, that familiar, burning, scrambled inspiration has flowed in where Aphrodite's hostility still lingers. An awareness, a buzz, a cascade of inspiration. Power too, if you have the courage to become one with it.