"This here? Tonight? This has got to be the greatest show in the galaxy."

Ember has no concept of personal space. Not with Mosaic. Not when they finally have time to themselves for the first time since they left Beri. Not with her hands, which are full, but with her shoulder, her thigh, her head, her breath. And perhaps Mosaic snapping at her is part of it. What Ceronian wouldn't want reassurance, to smother bad feelings in affection, to make sure that the outburst is forgotten and buried for at least a night?

(That's the problem with dating a demigoddess. Her displeasure, especially when pointed at you, is terrifying. A campfire must be put out completely, not allowed to catch again while no one is watching.)

"Because [i]we[/i] are here. All of us. Well." Her ears droop. "Almost all of us. I wish Dolce- you remember him? I wish he was here for the cooking, at least. Amazing seasoning. He always made infiltrating Beri a delight. I wish he'd made it out." She rests her head on that statuesque shoulder, sinks into the safety of the most frightening and most beautiful woman she knows.

"Sorry. Sorry. I just... I wish the Azure Skies could see this and [i]understand[/i]. Why we're not going to die. Why we're going to win in the end. All of this. All of us. Because we have you, and we have each other, and we have-- are you actually not going to touch the flatbread?" Begging eyes are tactically deployed. Not for her, but for Mosaic's sake. "If you don't eat something, I'll, I'll... I won't kiss you, so there!" (It would be impossible for her to hold to this. But it's the only card she can think to play.)

Her sword lies beside her in its sheath, close enough to hand to draw, but set aside all the same. Fireworks crack silently overhead. She nestles the small warmth of her body into Mosaic's own, trying to ignore the yipping in the back of her mind, the one that says there's still something wrong with this perfect moment.

After all, isn't it?