It would be so simple, do you know. So simple and also so satisfying. Just three quick motions: pop, twang, snap and all of these feelings would fade into mist. Nobody in this room even knows she [i]has[/i] a heartbow, let alone that she's practiced with it enough to put a light arrow directly up this sore loser's left nostril from where they both sit. Could you imagine? Her food would taste like Light for a week!

...But she's probably someone who eats nothing but burned eggs to begin with. Even imagined delights are tainted by exposure. No, better not to rise to the obvious bait. Better to maintain composure and accept the shift. Better to--

Eclair turns the mechanical toy over in her hands several times, tilting it this way and that as she twists her neck that way and this to see the curious thing from every possible angle. With a sigh, she sets it gently on the ground, and then she sets to work. First she passes her hands over the table: once, twice (she turns them over), thrice (she turns them again). In her hand is a small tea strainer. There is a swift, faster-than-snakelike bit of movement and in that flash the tea leaves scattered artfully on the table have been trapped. She passes her hands over them again once, twice (turning them without spilling anything), thrice (clap!): it is gone again. 

She lifts her hands up to eye level and spreads her fingers. Snap! She is holding a pair of small sugar cubes. She flicks her wrists and bounce the pair of them into Aadya's cup, which is free from loose tea leaves and fit to drink. She lifts her own cup to her lips without bothering to alter it and takes a refined, delicate sip. She even only makes the smallest of faces at it. 

"To begin with, let us respond to that question by flipping the table around."

She holds both hands out. One to her side and one in front of her, in anticipation of a particular reaction. 

"Metaphorically. The question posed is whether or not I enjoy spreading baseless rumors for the sake of causing a panic. From this side of the table, this is a blanket denial: an informational void. But if we look from the other side..."

Eclair drains her teacup without removing it from her lips. Long and slow, nobody ever sees her swallow, and nevertheless the liquid is gone. She taps it against the table once, twice (lifting a hand to cover it), thrice (smashing her palm down onto the table). It does not shatter. It disappears.

She smiles. 

"We are left with a different question altogether. Why do this? Well, to buy time of course. She cannot (obviously) lie about something like this, not when the question was posed so directly, and not without being caught. So she does not. She does - are you going to drink that? - this. Supposing that I require an answer, she can sustain her professional pride and her duty to her station by stonewalling with a flashy and rather time consuming show until I no longer have the time to press her on it. And by my own admission did I not say I had a very limited window in which to act? The show makes sense the moment you put these pieces together."

Now she raises one finger. This, she simply touches to her lips before she slides it down to her chin and lets it tap there for a moment.

"Fear not, my dull witted apprentice. I can defend my thesis without it being necessary for her to utter another word. Shall we examine the Festival of Lights? I was, as you will recall, not present at the actual ceremony but a delightful fawn did fill me in on the details after the fact, so we can remain confident that this speculation is at the very least, grounded in something. As a ceremony conducted by the Goddess Civelia, the crowning of a Queen of Light is something that relies somewhat heavily on the presence of Princess Heron. Most Civil rites tend to, if you'll forgive me for saying so."

Eclair glances briefly at Aadya. Her eyes also flick backwards to check on Mayzie. 

"That ceremony failed. Now, there are any number of reasons why it should happen to select a diverse assortment of candidates gathered around a starlight-chosen champion's heart rather than accomplishing the single thing that it is supposed to, but I submit that the most important among them is that Heron was not involved in the first place, and the mechanism could not help but function along an alternate path. And certainly! Yes! This hardly counts as firm evidence of anything in and of itself. Let us move on, and quicken the pace."

"In Vespergift, multiple members of Heron's retinue were sighted, this lovely young woman among them. The Dark Dragon Sayanastia was also present, which I find rather interesting but setting that to one side, the city was assaulted by all manor of its own primal terrors including the sudden and seemingly resurrected Architect Knight, who has not been anywhere on Thellamie in its recorded lore since the original fall of Aria Thendragon. And despite all of this, though Heron's motivations and exact missions are as mysterious as a passing storm, the hero herself made not one motion to help or hinder. Neither was she present for the rebuilding, which relied instead on a strange "Mystery Builder" and the collective efforts of the ordinary citizenry. [i]Neither[/i] was she present for the conflict at the ball that followed, though darkness itself should threaten to devour the final home of the North."

She does not request more tea. She does not produce or pour her own. This is not her party. That is fine. She taps her lips through a smile.

"More to the point, you at least I know are aware that Civelia has been kidnapped. Not killed, mind you, but [i]kidnapped.[/i] Gone, perhaps forever if nothing is done about it. And thus there is no need for anyone to make up rumors of Heron's disappearance if one wanted to spread terror and confusion among the denizens of this fair reality. Would you not agree the truth suffices far more? And yet, whither our Hero of Ages? All anyone can seem to find are her handmaidens, forever missing one among their number, and an endless assortment of inconsistent and hollow imitations of the Hero herself."

Once, she taps her lip. Twice, she taps it with the opposite side of her glove. Thrice, and she is holding a lit cigar. She puffs on it, and it produces bubbles instead of smoke. 

"Of course, all of this pales in comparison to my own prey. The Khaganate moves with increasingly surety that they will have total control of the world. Their ally, whom I chase, has fully broken her ties with the Aurorae and has settled under the patronage of a new figure I do not yet know. Their schemes together paint a picture of a total rewrite of the story of Thellamie. This would not and could not even begin to take root in a world with Heron the Hero. So with certainty, even setting aside the deteriorating condition of her handmaidens, I conclude that she is gone. We are in our own hands now."

Eclair blows a ring of bubbles and rolls the cigar between her fingers like a pen before flicking her wrist and swapping it with the teacup she vanished earlier. She sits it on the table and gestures in request for it to be filled again.

"But this remains supposition. Testimony from an eyewitness would be invaluable. Now. I am offering you, [i]Trainer[/i], as I did before: an opportunity to do the correct thing and answer my questions. The more you can tell me, the better. If you do not I will be forced to make my way through your order until I find someone willing to part with the information. Do you think I can't? And yet twice I am asking [i]you[/i]. Be more than some... shadow sword for a departed heroine. Be [i]more[/i] than an obstinate brat, stuffed with pride and straw. Do not come to me seeking to lose, defeat me by aiding my investigation. This is your last, your only chance to free yourself."