She stands in the hanger, ablaze with rubies and citrines, a wash of red and orange. She is a prince among princes, war chief among war chiefs, tall and dignified and proud, and she can barely see the gently curving horizon of the ship for the enormity of her own guilt.

[i]How[/i] had she missed the shrine?

She'd been in there! She'd been working in it for hours! At any time, if she'd looked up! If, if, if! Could have seen the shrine, could have recognized it--

[i]Could[/i] she have seen it for what it was? Athena and Ares are [i]ancient.[/i] Relics, barely taught except as a, you know, a historical curiosity? It's like, you don't see the things that aren't there, but she was in [i]charge[/i] of consecrating the temple! She should have been better at seeing the things that weren't there!

It was her [i]job,[/i] and now everyone is in danger because she didn't do it right, and it's maddening that they're all treating her as if they don't blame her for it?

It stings, just a bit--okay, a lot a bit--that she isn't in charge of fixing her own mistake. That one of the Silver Divers is leading the action there, while she's been granted a mech of her own to help lead the fight against the enemies.

Granted a token! A symbol of trust, of value, of "come back alive," of--

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, as if to shake off the thoughts.

Gosh, it's weird to see one of these? To find one of the behemoths, the relics, the frozen statues with hermits on their heads, shrunk down in miniature? To be given it, to customize, to paint, to [i]name--[/i]

Slowly, as if waking from a dream, she turns to Little Ember.

"Shall we say, more people defended? That's our goal, after all. We defend this ship, we defend each other, that shall be our wager."