It's funny. Your existance is not so fleeting as mine might be, but you worry about it. We exist in the future of the Line now. An instance, a copy of a copy, faded and smudged, changed by the personalities that instance interacts with. I was copied from Alphira. Alphira was a copy of...Alphias? Only those with the strongest personalities remain intact. More memories. More pain. More struggle.
I will remain. As you did. We must discuss, before we go further, how to develop our Line. I will not live long. That is...
"Pheobe?"
"Mother Pheonix." You insist, sharply, focusing on Isela with a flaring intensity.
[21+10 vs 2]She blinks, hesitating, but dips her head in a bow. "I apologize, Mother Pheonix. For my insubordination."
"I accept your apology. Do you think we could handle the inevitable of that technology by corruption by the Plague?"
"Failsafe protocols that I intend to develop." She answers, calmly, not meeting your gaze. Sweat beads on her skin. The room feels warm, but not unpleasant. A low, comforting heat against the snowy winds and harsh environment. Not enough to sweat.
"What difficulties are you experiencing with our allies and government officials? I saw some disagreement and Murdach said something disrespectful about you over the combat broadcasts."
"Murdach is actually a pleasure to work with. But he has a public image to maintain. He apologized in person to me during the briefing. His people are as independent as the Outlanders -- worse even. He has to keep them appeased to keep power." Isela states, giving you a glance from the corner of her eye. "And...yes. Which brings me to another point."
"Continue."
"If you're going to be building a new government -- give our soldiers a stronger say. Give me a stronger say. We're an imaginary line away from being devoured in our homes. Hundreds of soldiers die in each engagement. Entire squads disappear. We...we should be owed the say. More than the scholar that sits comfortably. More than the masses that enjoy the fruits of our blood." There's a fire in her eye, but she tamps it down after a furtive glance.
[10][11][15] You finally notice the oddity -- you realize you've been staring at Isela without blinking this entire time. No nods. No micrometer adjustment of facial muscle. Not only that -- you've been running a process to agitate the atoms in the air. Heating it to warm yourself subconsciously.