"Well reasoned," Mirror yawns, "But not an answer."

Her thrusters flare to life. The Gods-Smiting Whip lifts slightly before it rushes around the Jormungar in a circle to try and take its back. Ultimately fruitless. Small pivots and slight hip turns do for the pilot with the inside circle; the faster, more mobile mecha has too much ground to cover, and the maneuver is too obvious by half. Regardless. Mirror twists her armor in half at the waist and switches the direction of her circle on the head of a pin. The opening is tiny. She does not take it. She flies up and over the head of Marcina Villajero instead, tracking the response of her drones the entire time. 

Immediate overhead swing with her blade. Deflected: adjust momentum, swing weapon behind back. Rising slash, left hip to right shoulder. Redirected: adjust vector. Thrust. Combination slash, ten to four, six to twelve, one to eight. Her tails have ceased shielding and likewise ceased enhancing, mimicking, or doubling the sword strikes. Instead, Mirror twists individual points of articulation to redirect dissuading fire to various different armor panels where the damage will remain negligible and cosmetic. Instead, the tails rotate around the sword in an intricate dance: always out of the way at the moment of contact, but beneath, above, and to the sides, where they punctuate the slash by firing recklessly powerful bursts that, if they connect, will melt plates of the Jormungar or scrap entire weapon systems, if not detonate missile systems outright. At this range, it's as dangerous to each of them as the other.

She tests for adaptability. She tests for flexibility. She tests for reaction speed, particularly in the drones. She tests multitasking. She tests endurance. She separates, and rockets high into the air at the end of a horizontal slash.

"Liar? Trickster. Fool. Acknowledge the difference. Are my questions unanswerable? [A creature with one head wears but a single face], Marcina Villajero. I expect much deeper rhetoric from a warrior of your stature. I expect much sharper teeth from my sister under another star."

Maintain distance, high altitude hover pattern. Auto-cannon range neutralized: within firing capability but damage capabilities functionally negated. Heavier ordinance required, but in prime range. Heavy commit, the full sky to dodge in. Another test, another tiny scratch in the war of attrition. There is only one moment she need wait for. 

The rest is dancing. Play. Flirtation. Respect. A duel of this caliber should be decided by a single exchange. One strike only, pitted against the other. This is not the same. Not the same as Solarel. Her fingers twitch with anticipation. Her ears flutter with guilt. Her tail curls with shame. Her tongue trails out of her mouth with desire.

"Let us know one another, Marcina Villajero. Let us bathe together. Let us explore one another. Become acquainted with my teeth. Allow me to know your tongue. I am Mira of the Fisher Clan, whose star name is Whispered Promise. What is my name? And what is the secret of this armor?"

Her tails rain destruction from the heavens, aimed only at the water. Great plumes of mist and spray and steam erupt all around the Jormungar, caressing it like a series of teasing kisses. Foreplay.