The inside of Ember's mouth is hot, and tastes of copper and smoke. Her teeth are sharp and smooth and perfect, perfect rows of cool smoothness within the spice where Mosaic's tongue can lap and find respite, a chance to play with textures instead of flavors and revel in the intensity of the inside of those cheeks all the more for having the contrast. They kiss like two women who have been starving in the desert for so long that the idea of savoring their meal no longer occurs to them. 

Her hair is soft and wet, and smells of flowers. Pollen and nectar and the delicate caress of petals all dancing with the crisp burst of raw electricity that permeates Ember's entire being just now. The rich bouquet sets her heart racing and calms it again before the breath can finish. Enticing and soothing, all at once. 

The weight of her is intense and densely packed: when it launches at Mosaic like a bullet it takes her a concerted effort to keep from tumbling over and proving how weak her legs have become in payment for her great feat. But Ember is solid. When she is held, all of her presses back without compressing, without sinking or becoming insubstantial for even a brief touch. She is stable and steady enough to be leaned on without needing to do anything more significant than embracing her. A rock lifting out from the sea. A muscle to clench when hers cannot. 

It is in this moment, with their lips finally parted and Mosaic's nose buried in the top of Ember's hair, that she watches Hera depart. The goddess offers her a single nod: Mosaic sweeps Ember off her feet until the tangles of both of their hair sweep against the hangar bay by way of a bow in return. She lifts slowly. She breathes steadily. She entwines her tail with her lover's, and feels the ground beneath her feet.

This is possible. Yes. This is something she can manage, perhaps even without the twin swords of pride and spite. At least... right now, she can. She chuckles, and flicks Ember across her nose.

"Have you been remembering a past life, too? Little idiot, we dragged this thing out of the ocean. It's a wonder we even have a ship and not just a void-bound pile of crabs. Don't worry, we'll get to work making it pretty just as soon as we manage to get it to stop breaking as soon as anybody says a mean word."

Mosaic's chuckle builds into a laugh that seems to shake the ship. As if on cue a crack in the marble of a nearby fixture widens into a proper fissure. The [i]Plosious[/i] can laugh too. In the groan of metal that follows, Mosaic lets her smile fall. Her eyes do not flash anger, but they are sharp. And they are grim.

"But never mind that, where is Dyssia? Where is our knight and my instructor? And for that matter, what have you all done with the ribbons I lent to you?"