[b]Brown![/b]

"What did I do?" asked Brown. "What did [i]you [/i]do? York hasn't told me anything about what any of this is."

It's a dodge, a redirect, but it's not in bad faith. What she did was pointless and mediocre, a weak ass improv that took too much profile for too little gain. Discussing it would be exhausting. But Zhang? She's [i]interesting[/i]. 

Brown is keen to the way she needs to shift and balance her structure to avoid crumpling beneath her weight, aware of the subdermal plating, conscious of the warmth of her lips and the gentle coolness they leave behind. She doesn't bend beneath her presence but she's aware of how much it takes to keep herself from bending. She appreciates it and wants to learn more. And that means she needs to let someone else's legend breathe without filling it with her own words.

[b]Orange![/b]

"Translator," said Orange. "That's a strange concept. Aevum took a lot of pride in wiping out that profession. For all I'm interested in this civilization and its people, some part of me has always wondered if once I have my family back we might just [i]leave[/i]." She fidgets. She's never talked about this. "I don't know on what basis I could begin to choose between those two worlds."

"Do you dance, Orange? For any reason other than you were taught to?"

Memories flash. "Yes," she admits. "Bondi took me to a club. I told her I needed Red to learn this, but she insisted..." she smiles. "It was a disaster until I went limp and let her spin me like a doll. And normally I'd hate that, but that time... it felt really safe. Really loving. She was right, then. It did need to be me."

She looks out the window. The curve of Aevum cuts the stars. It's impossible to tell where her eyes rest.

[b]Green![/b]

There is a rumbling of thunderclouds, pixellated flashes of lightning cutting through the HD sky. Green knows the proper response to a tower of Babel, but she can't let herself be shaped that easily. The stormclouds pass and Fiona ascends beyond the atmosphere on dreamlike feet.

And there she sees the rain of satellites. Tens of thousands of them, marked with the flags of all the nations of Earth, including those who never reached space on their own. They circle the world in a massive orbital ring, the echo of Aevum. They fly so densely clustered they amass onto each other like compiling junk, more satellites than ever existed or could exist. Upon them is inscribed all the languages of humanity - or at least, the best impression that ten minutes of frantic behind the scenes coding could manage. The satellites are glitchy and floaty and their physics are crude, collision is broken, but for something that Green managed on the fly in response to a statement it's impressive. The real artistry of it is how the jank is part of the style, a retro glitchwave energy where broken code mixes with ultra high quality assets. Of Green herself there is no sign, but the ring of satellites is placed such that it serves as a moat perilous. How high can this tower go?