Once, when she'd been younger, she'd built herself a diorama of the known galaxy. Small glass balls for the planets, connected by plastic sprues to represent the known hyperlanes. The nebulae had been made out of cotton floss and strung with miniaturised light filaments. She'd spend hours, tweaking the arrangements, adding new lanes as they became known, imagining herself exploring the far reaches and mapping them out.

Of course, the model had not survived. As a teenager with three siblings, it was only a matter of time before she came back to her room and found it in pieces. Carm had always insisted it was just to get Isabelle out of her study more often - but that had been cold comfort when she'd seen that beautiful galaxy with a scoop torn out of it.

She'd complained to her mother, but the response had simply been to chide her for not better protecting her things.

Staring up at Emberlight, Isabelle could feel the beginnings of those old tears welling in her eyes. No, not again. What had they [i]done [/i]to her?

"Ta- take her back to my - my private hanger." she replies, not looking Tomas in the face. She couldn't, not right now. "Until I say otherwise, if any orders come down regarding Emberlight, you are to [i]physically [/i]check with me before enacting them. I don't care who they're from, is that clear?"

"I - yes?" replies Tomas, deflating somewhat. "Are you not happy with the work the team has done?"

Isabelle closes her eyes, hands fisting. She can't. Why did you have to. Deep breath - but it hitches halfway. No. Not now. Not in front of him.

"NO!" she snaps, spinning on her heel as she becomes acutely aware of every hair on her arms. Of how hard it is to swallow. "I mean, yes. I ... look [i]I don't care[/i]! Just get her back to my hangar [i]now!"[/i]

"Ma'am? Are you oka-"

She doesn't wait for him to finish the question, swiftly exiting before any more cracks can show.

---====---

The bathrooms in the hangar complex are spotless - as befits the heart of a Lozano compound. Freshly cleaned, fully restocked, no stains, everything smelling vaguely of flowers - everything gleams. It's a good (if slightly cliché) place to hide from the world. 

The shaking has subsided, and her fingers finally relax on her scalp. Everything aches. The model. Emberlight. A child's small painting. Toys. Serving staff who had befriended her. Books deemed "unsuitable". Games. [i]Emberlight[/i].

She knew who had given that order. She knew why. It had been a warning, but also a test. Don't fail again. And protect your things. Because they can and [i]will [/i]be taken from you if you are too weak.

Too weak. Too useless. Too much of a failure. The fact her mother had not given the order herself showed that she wasn't yet at the point of outright taking Emberlight away, but it was a reminder that nothing is safe. Nothing and ...

... no-one.

[i]How much did her mother know?[/i] She knew the staff passed her reports. She knew she had access to the building's security. But was she watching right now? It must be her imagination, but she can [i]feel [/i]that all seeing eye hovering behind her. She could feel the prickling on her neck. The tension in her shoulders. Watched. Waiting. Slip up too much?

Well, she'd slipped up plenty today. With Asil - with Tomas - and now with hiding in a bathroom when she was [i]meant [/i]to be at training. So many opportunities, so many justifications her mother might use. What could she do to defend against them?

The sad truth was ... nothing. There was no defence for her. No shield, no protector. Asil would be cast aside in an instant and she had no other friends amongst the staff in the building. No allies.

All she could do is go on. Do what her mother asked. Do it well. So there could be no further charge of laziness. She'd say she was correcting an error in the mech's repair work - that much was true - her mother would know what it meant. Maybe, if she did well enough, she'd be allowed to keep Asil in her life for a while.

Straightening, she calmly washes her hands before checking her face in the mirror. It looks ... bored ... tired. 

She dries herself off before heading for the next training lesson. She'd have to be ready for the next fights, the next challenges. No matter what gets in her way.

[It was indeed a big deal and Isabelle [b]staggers [/b]from the threat. Ticking off Betrayal, she resets her destiny track and makes progress towards her destiny]