[i]Her fire does not give off smoke.

Here, in the center, in the shape of this which is a name, she burns, and her fire does not give off smoke.

Here, in the center, in the shape of this which is a name, she plucks a string, and she burns, and her fire does not give off smoke.

Here, in the center, in the shape of this which is a name, she plucks a string, and the reverberation pulls every block into place where she wants it, and she burns, and her fire does not give off smoke.

Here, in the center, in the shape of this which is a name, and the name is Smokeless Jade Fires, she plucks a string, and the reverberation pulls every block into place where she wants it, and she burns, and her fire does not give off smoke.[/i]

[hr]

Her heart is racing. Her prey instincts, honed by evolution to keep her save from behemoths and hungry birds, yells at her to go and hide under a desk. She's been seen, she's been made, she's been spotted, she's been striped. It's all going to fall apart, and she'll have failed to keep Jade...

To keep her safe, in turn. To protect her as she protects her priestess.

It's like it's somebody else who moves her hand, who presses one finger against Sam's lips. But it's her that manages to wink. A plea from a place of weakness, but presented from a stance of strength. Those alien lips (like Angela's) are soft, warm. Breath mists against her fingerpad.

Won't you be a good girl and keep quiet for me, Sam? It's an actual question the way that Dolly's body asks it; a request. Not a declaration the way that Smokeless Jade Fires would make the question. And some Terenians like a soulful gaze from a voluptuous, soft Hybrasilian. (Actually, according to network searches, that number is much higher than you'd expect. Not that Dolly knows. But Jade does.)

[[b]11[/b] on either an Entice or a Defy Disaster, dealer's choice.]