The Princess Redana Claudius of Tellus rides through the void. Ember of the Silver Divers listens to the words of Zeus Progenitrix, the only sound in a silent world. The wind that beats her with exhilarating blows, that threatens to tear her helmet away, is utterly silent. The intoxicating ripple of the forests, as if all were part of some larger organism stirring into life, plays before her without so much as a whisper. Behind her, on a cable not too dissimilar from a Plover's, stretches the storm-tossed [i]Plousios.[/i] And beneath her ripples the polychromatic rubbery hide of her horse. Its wings catch the wind and send the two flying, and in her wake she drops beacons, points to tack to, lanterns in offering to Poseidon.

[i]Do not let us be the ones drowned tonight, Uncle,[/i] she murmurs. But still her glorious Deus Pater speaks, and it's impossible not to pay attention to what your parent is saying, particularly if they might ask you a pointed question at the end of it, and it will look so bad if you were goofing off and trying to get that old blowhard lightshow to give you treats instead. So as she soars, and as she charts the route that will take the [i]Plousios[/i] safely through, she continues to speak words that truly only Zeus can hear.

[i]If one new ending is possible,[/i] she mouths into the roiling storm, [i]why not another? Or another? Do we have to be satisfied that there's only two choices, this or that? Do[/i] I [i]have to be satisfied?[/i]

She grips tight with her thighs, for all that she's buckled down into the saddle. Every bit helps, and the physical sensation grounds her, reminds her that she doesn't have to get lost in the labyrinth of possibilities. If she asks that question and is not careful, then she will forget why she is going to Gaia at all, why she is braving this storm, why she needs to bring her friends to the very end of all ends. She will be dizzy with thoughts of who she was and who she had become; of Bella and the shedding of aprons and lace; of how far she had brought Dolce and Vasilly; and, oh, [i]Alexa.[/i]

She hopes that you are happy, Alexa.

She hopes that when she opens up the sky again, you will still be happy.

[i]Maybe only they've got it so far, but what matters is that a difference is[/i] possible, [i]and that means... anything can be. That was true back when I was there, back home, and it's true out here, and aren't you giddy with it?[/i]

The voidhorse tucks in its wings and dives. Smaller debris, and she doesn't want to think too terribly about the source. Small enough that it will simply yield before the [i]Plousios[/i]'s transformed might, but big enough to crush her if she were incautious; small debris the size of big debris, then.

[i]I don't know that you have to apologize to me. Dyssia might have words with you, I think. But you know what I want and what it's always been: to not know what the future holds either. Does that make me too much like you?[/i]

Perhaps this goes unanswered. Redana's got a lot to concentrate just now, anyway, leaving a trail through peril and into different, new peril. And she wouldn't go back to Tellus for anything.