Life, like many things, has its series of priorities. Food, shelter, security; the basic wants. The things every person needs. However, once those are a given, a person can be freer to choose how they order and organise their lives. [i]Speaking of freer ...[/i] A less rigorous schedule was one thing she had never expected to come from the Gala ... but as much as she welcomed it, she found it suspicious. Almira wasn't one to just cave to a few words like that, Mira, herself or even the pinnacle of the Consortium, Adriana. No, if anything, Isabelle had expected her to double-down on her approach ... and the shift in tactics had her [i]worried[/i]. [i]But ... that doesn't mean I have to look a gift horse in the mouth.[/i] There was, after all, plenty to do - and even with the additional time, she'd be hard pressed to do everything before the match. Hence ... [i]priorities.[/i] Lowest on the list, ironically enough, was mech training. The rationale here was simple - she was already good. Whatever technical ability she could practice, the impact on the match with Kiriala would be marginal at best. Even time spent reviewing the match tapes and files on her would be only worth so much until the moment they both stepped into the arena. Until she could actually [i]speak [/i]to her opponent. Next on the priorities came R&D work - and that largely boiled down to tinkering with Emberlight and her drones. If the fight with Kirala came down to martial skill, then she'd need all the edges she could get - she'd need something new, something unconventional. And that meant working on the drones - on the visual displacement trick - but also on how far she could push the boundaries on their abilities. And as for her own abilities ... That meant lessons with Quar. That meant nights in her lab, or in her room, alone with her drones. Things had been getting ... weird ... for a while now on this front. --===-- [quote][i]"You sure this thing will work? We made, like, eight of them and only two are functional." she says instead. "I ... yeah, I think - no, I know they will." "How can you be sure? I mean, I know you worked on them the longest, so not doubting your skills, but what we're trying to get them to do - the contextual interfaces - it's complex." "I just know." Isabelle replies, almost shyly. "They'll work."[/i][/quote] Isabelle turns the control glove over in her hands. Thinking back to the dance. To that moment when the alarms had gone off and when she and Mira had quickly made their ways back to their respective families. The drones on her dress had immediately taken flight, they'd immediately sought out Asil, guiding her to her target through the suddenly milling crowd. They'd flocked around them as they'd gathered up Tomas, Rosa and headed for the shuttles. A school of fish, or herd of beasts, on the lookout for predators as they sought safety. The thing was ... she hadn't [i]told [/i]them to do any of that. Had she? Something strange was going on - the glove had been good technology, but not [i]that[/i] good. And that had been before the twitches, the impulses that had encouraged her to take Quar prisoner. The improvement to her memory. ... the dreams. -===- She could now hold a (somewhat basic) conversation with Quar, and what the Zaldarian spoke of was like a whole new world. Spirits, Gods, Geists. The way the Zaldarians thought of their nanotechnology was so different to how she'd expected. It also opened new doors ... Which took her to what was the highest priority on the list. Trying her best to understand what had happened to her on that moon. What those nanobots the Trak'tho guardian had implanted into her did. Some of that, was simple science. Examining her blood under microscope in her lab. Admittedly, she was not a biologist, so that avenue was always going to only lead to limited results. [i]Okay, so - we've learnt that needles still hurt. And blood is meant to be red, right? I should probably be a little worried about those grey flecks.[/i] Which led to the second route. If the Zaldarians thought of these things in terms of spirits or gods, then maybe the way to understanding was through a more ... esoteric approach. After all, if you needed to talk to the spirits - what better way than to commune? --===-- The doors are closed, locked against the world (well, almost all the world). Just Isabelle, her drones, and her bedroom. She kneels in the centre of a cleared space on the carpet. Eyes closed. Silence. And ... more silence. [i]Am I doing this right?[/i] Eventually, she's sure something will happen. Either she'll finally get some insight as to what these vague feelings of unease are about, she'll fall asleep, or she'll get a knock on her door. Or maybe the door will just unlock. After all - any good priority list must leave a way for it to be overridden; Privileged access. Run as Administrator. Sudo. Programming languages had many ways to name the special type of command that would override anything else that was going on. That could make a computer devote all system resources to a new task. In her language, it was Asil.