Which orifice does that count for? Probably ass. She didn't [i]mean[/i] to tell Aphrodite to stick it up his ass! Or. Well. She did. She [i]absolutely did[/i] and wouldn't take the words back for all the crystal dragon treats in the galaxy, on reflection, but it still wasn't [i]smart![/i] … Maybe for all the crystal dragon treats in the galaxy. Not for her, you understand, but because Brightberry deserves nice things, and she can be humble one (1) time if it means seeing Brightberry's face light up. Airdrop a dragon onto a planet-sized ball of delimshus shinies. Oh, she'd get so fat so fast and it'd be [i]glorious.[/i] And it'd give her time to clean the house in the meantime, so she can do two nice things at once and-- And she just told a god to go fuck himself, didn't she? The energy keeping her going is draining away, and after this long in the lab there wasn't much to begin with. But Zeus was onside? Maybe? How do you translate the thunder there--like, you can't touch her? Leave her alone? He left after so maybe so but also it's probably a bad idea to assume either of those things are true? There are worse ideas than assuming you're untouchable, but it's hard to think of one at the moment. Hard to think, period. Sure as hell doesn't [i]feel[/i] untouchable. Feels empty. But… She's felt the energy rising around her before. Like the electric, heart-palpitating feeling you get when you're riding the wave just before the crash. If you can just keep running, keep ahead of the darkness, you'll never find out about the crushing weight chasing you. It's a ride, but when the darkness catches up… It's a bad idea. The last time she embraced this, Brightberry… Well, it takes a lot to get Brightberry to yell. She's super nice, you know? Too good. Too nice. Too forgiving. And even when she was yelling, it was. She was shouting about how Dyssia'd been gone for two weeks, and she didn't know what had happened, and she'd been worried, and have you eaten [i]anything[/i] since I forced that food down your throat, and food, now, bed, now, talk… And then she didn't talk to her for a month. Her pulse pounds in her ears. [i]Bom. Bum. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] She's hollow. No food, no sleep, no thoughts, and the purple crawls in--fills her, fills the emptiness, crackles through her veins, fills her with promises. She can practically see the energy--a pulsating purple sphere, at eye height, pressing against her consciousness. A promise, a threat. Somehow, it's the size of a pea, but also bigger than her head. Behind it, the puppet slowly raises its head, and turns a fearful, hoping expression on her. Thoughtfully--dreamily--Dyssia plucks the bean from the air, turns it this way and that. Brings it up to one eye, sees, as it were, herself, from outside, from above, sees the bean staring at her staring at the bean staring at. Flicks it in the air with a thumb, catches it in her mouth-- [i]Bom. Bum. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] And it turns out, it's super easy to make sure a ship can't be used, when you think about it. I mean, what was she thinking? Slowly convincing all the Pix to abandon a perfectly good ship, serving under a psychotic abuse golum, making an equally psychotic abused golem? Nonsense. Slow. Useless. She's full of fire, full of lightning, and the images dance in front of her. [i]Bom. Bom. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] The drums push and thunder, urging her along. The chasm yawns behind her, but it's not important. It's behind her, and she's running, and all she needs is what's in front of her, and what she [i]needs…[/i] All she really [i]needs[/i] is for the ship to stop being a ship. And there are so many ways for that to happen, right? There are all these systems dedicated to making sure that a vaguely ship-shaped blob of astral metals today will be a ship-shaped blob of astral metals tomorrow. And you just--you just reach out and turn them inside out, right? You've got a star that can go nova, which is less helpful than you might think, but not as not helpful as to be totally useless? Engine room. She doesn't remember getting here, but she's here now. There's a badge on her chest. Is that real? Smells real. Smells purple. The whole world smells purple, somehow there and not there more real than real. It's like the veil that held her down, kept her here--there?--has been lifted and she can see the world the way it is for the first time. Except it's not the first time? Unreal clarity. She can see the whole ship--see the coursing of the flame, see how it writhes in her hands, see where it flies and vents and roars. It's all so simple--vent here, and the ship turns [i]this[/i] way, and vent there to turn [i]that[/i] way, and she could just laugh! Nudge the star. Bump it between her claws like a top. Spin it around, arcing fire and electric radiation into the engines until they flare red, white, purple-- But laughing takes energy, and she's running, and the darkness is following, and the roar of [i]bom, bum, bom-bum-b-dum[/i] is chasing her through the ship, full of thunder and roaring and teeth and-- Ritual. Rituals. She's acquired the robes of the navigator, and the augury is before her. Pix stare at her, stare at her badge. Poseidon rumbles and points and she's full of light and laughing and grabs the augury and [i]wrenches[/i] and-- The Pix are arranged before her now. They've realized what she's doing and they chase her, jetpacks trailing plumes and unreal formations and wild scents and the bridge is before her and the captain is shouting orders but she's lightning and violet and [i]bom, bum, bom-bum-b-dum[/i] is behind her and around her and is her and she is it and the drums fill the universe with their-- [i]Bom. Bum. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] Screeching. Tearing metal. [i]Bom. Bum. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] Falling. Screaming? [i]Bom. Bum. Bom-bum-b-dum.[/i] Blackness.