[b]Ember![/b]

"Water would be a huge help against the Summerkind," Sagetip said thoughtfully. She was alit with a crimson light, flickering like bloody ink from her projector. "They are creatures of lightning reflexes and evasion; slowing them down would make them easier prey. We can easily take on more water and flood the entire ship. If they adapt then we can drain the ship and render their entire lifetime of military experience irrelevant. That's a good idea, Princess Alpha."

"But -" and here she falls deeper into the crimson, the buttons on her uniform gleaming silver even as she seems to bleed into the crimson light of her projector slide. "- I disagree on targeting Liquid Bronze. We don't have the numbers, don't have the assets, don't have the materiel. It would be expensive to create an opening like that with no guarantee of success once it is created. We don't know the full extent of the Biomancer-General's tricks, but we know he has guaranteed a form of immediate reincarnation for his Legions, and that was accomplished centuries ago. What if his research into that field has borne even more fruit? What if he has made himself immortal? He might be so directly, or perhaps he has done as some Biomancers and created clone backups. We are not up against an Azura Knight, we cannot fight as though we are."

This is her final challenge on this point; after this, she must agree with whatever course is decided by her Alpha so the pack might have clarity. 

[b]Dolce![/b]

Artemis folds her newspaper - an an ancient thing of cheap paper and cheaper ink. She takes the time to smooth the crease and lay it across her knee as she sits, arms folded and legs crossed. A familiar shift of her head sends the shards of brown hair from her face.

"Once, a long time ago, there was a woman who wove the most splendid snares," said Artemis. "She had a genius for knots and was able to twist thread and twine into moments of suspended strangulation. She would walk through the woods weaving her traps and bought forth from them a bounty. I admired her. I admired her skill, her craft, her focus. So one day I decided to reward her - I sent into her snares a prince of rabbits, with a coat of silver and moonlight. She was delighted with her prize, ecstatic even. She called out my name in gratitude and joy."

Artemis flicked a smile, a cynical, distant thing, like a dart. "And then she sold the fur, purchased a house in town, lived comfortably for the rest of her days and never hunted again. I understood what I was in that moment, what the hunt was: necessity. Necessity alone. Nobody wants to crouch in the dark and mud with a wooden spear in trembling fingers. Nobody wants to learn the migration patterns of termites so they can be ready to eat them when they swarm. Nobody wants to work for endless hours to extract the means of survival from a uncaring forest. Once the concept of female property rights and divorce caught on in society recruitment for my wilderness cults dropped off a ledge. The second any individual or civilization [i]can [/i]ditch me, they ditch me. Nobody [i]wants [/i]to hunt."

She unfolded her newspaper again, straightening it out and looking up over the edge with silver-lined glasses. "But, sometimes things are still necessary. Even in the midst of all this plenty people find ways to make it so. So instead, I ask you a question: Is there something that is necessary for you to do?"