[b]Injimo! [/b]

She stands up stiffly. Something was wrong with the motion, it was too strained - it would take a deliberate moment's reflection to realize that she hadn't been sitting in a chair. She'd spent the whole meeting holding a squat and even for someone with her fitness obsession that took a toll.

(It was something she had to work on. Heron could walk crouched for hours at a time.)

"No problem," she said. She wanted to stretch, crick her neck - Heron wouldn't. Sometimes it felt like the Hero was made out of rubber. "See you, Vil."

She knew she couldn't beat Civelia. Maybe that was unfair; she didn't really think she could beat anyone. Any victory felt like her opponent had just made a trivial execution mistake; an accident, something that'd get washed out in a best out of three. There were some things - most things - that only Heron could do, and going toe to toe with the Goddess was outside her range. She knew her limits. She spent every day being reminded of them, like a prisoner knows the bars of her cage.

No, what she'd do if the balloon went up would be to rush the General Secretary. Damage the support apparatus. Buy time for Heron. That was her duty.

[b]Kalentia![/b]

"Oh, honey..." Kalentia sighed.

She was right, of course. Nothing in the worlds of magic would bring the release from passion the Lunarian sought. The Dark Dragon had ground the pyramid to rubble, and the rubble to sand, and the sand to dust, and the dust to atoms, and there amidst the atoms life sprang forth in a microbacterial bloom. Once the craving was inside of you it could animate you forever, and there was no spell to mend a broken heart[1].

The best she has is the offering of a handkerchief.

"Well, my auntie always said the best thing for impurity is a bath," said Kalentia[2]. "Do you want to try the hot spring? Maybe that'll help you relax."

[1] She'd checked.
[2] Ogden Pious was an odd duck.