Lion Head Mesa (ap) talking to a plant in the corner

The Jodai gave a harsh snort.

No, never. I never wish to serve again. She spat the word as though it coated her tongue in bitter oil, the sides of her mouth curving harshly around it. She settled after a moment, though the fur around her mantle remained slightly standing at the thought.

I do not know ease, Germanicus. I used to believe in it, the idea that one day I would be above the need to work. But now.. She shook her head, cutting off her thought.

There is a child like part of me that entertains the idea of power, of leadership. I do not feed it, for I know it’s hunger is picky. She wasn’t suited for leadership. At least, she hadn’t been when she’d run from it under the gaze of Pidáo. But..had that really been leadership? She couldn’t say.