"Vesper, I..."

Bella is a very practiced sort of careful when she swallows. She curls her fingers in habitual, ritualistic patterns only. The old claw squeezing and circling, a flex at the knuckles, and a release. She has to fight to keep her breathing steady, without it appearing to be a fight. Nobody understands better than she does how much information can be conveyed without words. What could she control? Not scent, not touch, but surely sight and sound? Pitch control and intonation, rapidity or hesitation, posture and ear position and tail height.

The trick was burying the trick. If she can't keep her breath even, she has to start pacing. Rhythmic and controlled steps make it easy to fall into a pattern she can maintain indefinitely, it helps hide the beating of her heart in physical exertion, using only old responses to old problems. Hiding something from Redana. Being concerned about Sagakhan's orders and intentions. The deep fear that Mosaic carried for her sister's health whenever it was necessary to tend to her. Use both sets of memories, to make sure she gets it right.

It is... probably unnecessary to try this hard to hide her sensory data. Vesper [i]shouldn't[/i] have the same blessings of observation that she did. Except the first time she saw those intense, lantern-like eyes, she watched them follow a single speck of dust that had snuck into her prison room aboard the [i]Anemoi[/i] with a hunger that wouldn't be satisfied with an entire star. 

"Don't understand," she finishes at last, "Did you build that out of the walls? But you said you simulated an entire universe? I know I'm not an expert on, uh, whatever that is, but what the shit? How is that possible? Explain it to me Ves: how did you get this thing to work?"

She frowns, and cocks her head. Of all the ways she has to help, this was both the most practical but the least effective. Certainly the cruelest. 'No new information' as a mantra was really nothing more than stalling tactics. But what was she supposed to do? She can either double back over Vesper's old thoughts as a distraction until she can figure out a novel way to knock her out she hasn't developed a counter for yet, or she can beg her sister to 'just hang in there'.

Yes, fight the curse of your own genetics. With [i]what?[/i] Incredible insight, Bella. All the while they fly further and further away from the source of the medicine that held her stable for so long, and toward total oblivion. Knives in her throat. Needles in her heart. The sting of failure, in every little motion. 

...When she was fading under the curse of XIII, she received a miracle and pulled herself free. Redana. But who could that be for Vesper's sake. Not her. No, not Bella. Not Mosaic, or any other name she'd worn over the years. All she could be was inadequate. As a leader she was subpar. As a sister she was distant and bitter. As a warrior she was constantly scraping by, just short of killing herself. And none of these things were good enough. They didn't even amount to a halfhearted prayer. So all she could do was stall. Pace and twitch as carefully as she could manage, and ask stupid questions.

Wait. When did she start glaring at Dyssia? What is Dyssia [i]doing[/i] here? Didn't she? No. She didn't. In the middle of her panic she forgot to give orders. She snarls before she can catch herself.

Fuck.