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RP: ISC Phoenix [Side Job] Beautiful Erasure

"Wha-aahhaahhhAHHHHH! TAMAMO!" Sakamoto screamed.

"You shouldn't be flying around in that state! I got the gurney out for a reason!" Whatever shock the woman actually had towards the grisly, otherworldly scene was completely concealed as her hands scrambled to undo the sash for her own kimono. Tossing it over the nude, horribly maimed, limbless torso of the younger Neko, it quickly became clear just where the woman was getting her trinkets and gadgets. Sakamoto herself was left wearing nothing but a tactical harness with several pouches and holsters that happened to cover the important details; from the angle they looked at her, it was very difficult to tell if there was any underwear underneath, but that didn't matter. Not in the slightest. "You lost your arms, legs, have broken bones, are bruised all over, and are missing I don't know how much blood, so be a good girl and stay put!" the Jiyuuian ordered Tamamo about.

In a small sector of space where catgirls battled against tentacled monstrosities, one woman could no longer find anything absurd anymore, if only for the moment.
 
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Wonder and anger sprouted as Yuna watched Sakamoto handle Tamamo.

The wonder was from Tama. Limbless, beaten, lacerated and mind-raped, she carried on as if little had happened. SINners such as Yuna could survive grievous injuries and maintain combat efficiency at levels beyond normal Neko, but Tamamo! And her floating, even? Yuna scarcely believed it.

But, as often was the case with her, the anger was stronger. The wounds ... the pointless, purposeless violence, mental and physical and emotional. Why? For what? What possible advantage was to be derived?

It was self-centered, but Yuna saw it as an affront to the craft of espionage. Stunts like Blondie's made everyone have to work harder to earn, gain and keep trust with sources and agents. How was anyone supposed to gather intelligence when backfield buttplugs like Blondie did shit like this?

Yuna cracked past it with the flexing of her palms. Refocused, she whipped around and took point. "Let's move before we're visited. Back to the Taii. KAMI, remove us from sensors and place our location at the opposite end of the facility."
 
There was no response to the addition of an article of clothing to the hovering torso, however both of the senior Neko would notice that the addition of weight hadn't caused the floating body to shift. After a short moment it seemed that their charge decided to give in to Sakamoto's request and the tiny broken form lay itself upon the gurney, the lone green eye idly examining the ceiling of the room as if it were something mildly interesting. At this point she spoke once more digitally, "I won't object to visiting the Taii again. Though I'm a little hungry, it has been... A while. Since I ate something."

Her rescuers didn't need to know the depths of Tamamo's hunger, nor the thoughts she spared to the disabled Nekovalkyrja that shared the room. For the moment all that was important was that they resumed their objective, after all it would be dissapointing to visit a secure SAINT facility and not achieve their initial goal, and she very much doubted that she'd be getting a t-shirt out of the experience.
 
Satisfied with Tamamo, Sakamoto vanished from sight.

'Don't worry, we'll get you something to eat, and give you a nice hemosynth bath, and maybe even give you a rubber ducky,' she spoke in their minds. 'We'll have you fixed up in no time. After all, you're late for a very important date.' It was true though. It was something that was going to decide her very fate. The Star Army was not kind to deserters, even though they could be replaced in an instant. Its laws were archaic, conservative and old fashioned at times, and here, it was painfully apparent. Looking at Yuna though, she had to admit she was wary of the choice. 'If we go back to our ship, they might think we're running away with her you know,' a cheeky smile on her lips. It was true though. But if they stayed, or even took Tamamo to the medbay, they were liable to be caught by the fools first. 'You think that's worth the risk?' she seriously asked.

In the end, there were no good options left.
 
Yuna led the way by pulling the gurney behind her. If there was going to be enemy fire, Yuna would take it first.

The pathway the facility KAMI had drawn for her before was static in Yuna's head, but she ignored it, going on her own unfettered memory. She pulled with her legs and her arm, not giving a damn how much noise the stupid gurney. The whole base was going to know what was going on soon anyway; how did it matter if they made a little more noise?

Would the desk jockey have anything to say? Maybe Honeybitch would get some of her bees to come and try to sting them. Or maybe the Taii would be like, "lollernope, stay the fuck off my ship mutineer".

Nah. Not the Taii. The Taii tried to balance efficiency and military. She was a coward, but she was an honest coward who didn't make bones about it. Yuna could even understand the limitations placed upon the officer by her role.

She swore she could hear Tamamo bleeding. Every weak pumping of fluid out her wounds like a leaky faucet. She grated her teeth. That girl was going to get dunked in the tank for weeks.

Yuna's eyes swiveled across all the area before her. Anything that moved could be the last thing she ever saw, so she wanted to be ready to not look stupid and take a few shots for her subject.
 
The return trip to the Hayai was in many ways underwhelming, the few Nekovalkyrja that were encountered simply nodded as they passed their peers and politely ignored the rippling tension that slithered along the spines of the two aggravated field agents. Such reactions were to be expected for a myriad of reasons, the least of which being the attempt of some glory vultures to get the credit for another team's efforts. More common in the halls were a small army of Shuujuu gynoids armed with industrial strength steam cleaners making much of the trip smell of humid air and cleaning products, with the Shuujuus falling off to the side of the hall as the gurney approached and letting the small caravan pass with a deep bow in acknowledgement.

Toward the end of the trip Hirasawa and Sakamoto received a message from the KAMI indicating that their situation had been reviewed by important personnel and that the staff of Ull offered their utmost apologies and sympathies for the difficulties caused by over eager agents, who had acted rashly in their fervor to serve the Empire. It was the sort of half apology to be expected of any politician which most officers were, as well it made it clear that while they had been inconvenienced that the assets in the pocket were of more value than justice and that they would not permit a trial. They had to look the other way. Finally, almost as if added as a second thought the message indicated that they would be entreated to no further interruptions during their business on Ull and that a full report would be appreciated at the earliest opportunity.

This put Hirasawa, and Sakamoto in the position that they should have been in before they reached the facility, and left them with no direct means to vent their frustrations as they wheeled into the Hayai's Hemosynthetic Reconstruction Tube clean, shiny, and ready.
 
Sakamoto sighed. They were worse off than being at square one. They were at negative square one.

"To imagine a Nekovalkyrja can be born from this very same blood in under an hour," the Jiyuuian woman remarked. Now that they were back on the Hayai, she was visible once again as the red fluid unnaturally flowed off her hand. As the tank filled, she turned to look back at her odd friend. "We should be able to fix you up in less than that, though, we'll still be quite late for the very important date," Sakamoto smiled at Tamamo. They weren't out of the woods yet of course - she didn't consider the base itself safe for starters - but they had breathing room now. Turning back to some of the equipment on hand, she reached out for one of the medical scanners and did a once-over of the younger Nekovalkyrja. Where she was feeling relief one moment, she felt confusion, disbelief, then a chill the next.

What Tamamo had done to herself...where could she even start? And, reviewing the medical logs from Ull, the time that she had been left in the sim alone was staggering.

"Eto...you're still compatible, right?"
 
Overeager agents, huh.

Yuna didn't buy it. The message to Tamamo already was sent — "Yamatai never really loses." Through brute force, the Empire had extracted its revenge on the derelict. The deserter. Blood was paid. Transaction complete.

She glumly stared ahead once it was clear they were going to make it out not only alive, but with an apology! Because the apology made it all better. It totally made up for all the suffering — not just Tamamo's, but the Special's, the Taii's, even her own. Totally made up for it.

Totally.

What else did I expect, honestly. Yuna had wanted a fight, a chance to put the hurt back on the organization in the hopes that maybe some of the pus would come out. But it didn't; SAINT had pulled out the sliver instead and just put a little ointment on the wound. Nothing lasting there.

The hemosynth tube opened up from the top; it was to be a drop job this time. Yuna herself carried Tamamo above it and slowly guided her down into the tube. Not that Sakamoto couldn't have done so, but Yuna needed to feel dirty. She needed to feel just how this had gone.

"She's still Neko," Yuna said before the top lid closed down and the Hayai's computer started making queries and setting up secure comm channels for Tamamo to use.
 
Hayai-Class, Medical

As Tamamo was lowered into the tank, there was a brief moment when her stumps began to bleed once more, blue mixing with the red creating a brief swirl of violet before being subsumed by the red and she was engulfed completely. Given what the two Nekovalkyrja had gone through for her, Tamamo supposed that it was only fair that she ease their spirits and after negotiating with the Hayai's CIES to begin the process opened an encrypted digital channel with those present, "Thankfully Hirasawa has been kind enough to present me permissions to interact with the ship's medical systems. With my history, as an SAoY trained medic, this process will be fairly routine for me. Between my medical and engineering training, perhaps in another life, I would have found myself frequently using hemosynthetic tanks such as this one to repair and augment your sisters, specifically the neglected Type 33A model. Though admittedly with the right clearance there isn't much you can't do with such a tank."

As she spoke for their benefit, Tamamo directed the hemosynth to begin assembling chains of hydrocarbons laced with boron as the foundation for where her bones would regrow, before wrapping them in newly laid hemosynthetic flesh. This led to the unique sensation of the hemosynth flowing into the vacant sockets where her shoulders and hips had been dislocated, and after a moment filling out the cavity to allow for the newly laid bone material to settle. Soon she might even be able to wiggle her stumps about in a facsimile of actual limbs, and for a brief moment, she would understand the plight of a former employer.

"Everything is proceeding smoothly," She offered after a moment, "At this point, it is simply a matter of waiting as the femtomachines complete their task. Something that I owe you both for arranging so promptly... I suppose since I have little to do I could answer any questions you might have. Though I'm uncertain if you have other duties that you must attend to in the interim before I can be brought along to do what I am here to do."
 
Blue-stained as she was, Yuna didn't leave the tank's side. She folded her arms in front of her chest and lightly balanced herself on her feet. Drying hemosynth stuck to her skin as well as ruined her clothes, but was nothing she hadn't experienced before. It doesn't stink yet. And at least this one didn't die. The agent's hair drained to a pristine white, revealing a few spots and strands of blue. She shoved off a creeping desire for rest.

She was ready to dive into the tank and bleed on Tamamo if that was what it took to regrow her.

The ship's CIES monitored audio in the room to translate into sending, so Tamamo could "hear" Yuna when she gruffly spoke.

"What'd they do to you," she asked. "And what did they get from it."
 
Sitting on a stool, legs crossed, she went over things in her mind. By now, Tamamo's history was a trivial thing for Sakamoto. At least the bits on record anyways. She was, after all, a part of SAINT, and unlike inexperienced novices, she did her best to know as much as possible about a mark before making her move. Even Tamamo. There were no exceptions. That was why she was glad, but not surprised that the younger Neko took to the tank so readily.

But what did surprise the Jiyuuian was what she saw moments after going over events with a comb.

"Ara, ara," the woman sighed, her voice lowering like a teacher making a gentle reminder. Nevermind the odd relationship between herself and Yuna. "It was torture of course. Physically, and mentally. The former is obvious, but the latter? Accelerating the perception of time and stretching it all out like a sticky bit of mochi to make it last tends to be maddening. It's nothing new, but it is most certainly one of the most reliable ways of breaking people." Despite her dulcet tones, she certainly wasn't saying these bits of detail for Yuna's sake, and perhaps not even Tamamo's either. After all, she had just gone through it herself. Though, did she need the reminder of what it all truly was to help ground her? Sakamoto wasn't sure, but if Tamamo needed that little bit - that little reminder of reality - it was there now. Then again, perhaps the woman said it for her own sake?

"As for gain, I'm sure those loose cannons felt good about what they did. A nice pat on the back for themselves," Sakamoto continued, her voice ever sweet and pleasant. "But...let's say someone knew what these amateurs were up to, and didn't stop them," the woman's voice grew a little deeper, like a less than innocent beckoning from a bedroom. "A message, clear as day, and without having to be tied up in documentation or blame towards the ivory tower. It would all be the foolish, incompetent underlings' fault after all." Her soft, silky derriere sliding off the stool, she came to stand by Tamamo's pod, perhaps unaware of the blue blooded hand prints on her waist.

"Then again, maybe SAINT really is that incompetent. With its track record, it's very hard to tell." It wasn't really necessary to say all this though. Each of the three here knew this all well enough, but, really? It did help to comfort Sakamoto.

After all, was there anything more terrifying, more mind breaking than the truth?
 
Listening to both of the agents who had taken both her future, and for the moment her well-being into their hands Tamamo listened both to Hirasawa's direct questions, and to Sakamoto's theorizing before attending to the portion that she felt comfortable answering.

"Sakamoto-san is partially correct. I was indeed tortured in a fashion, though it was not merely time dilation. I believe I was subject to false memory injections, sensory deprivation, and actively monitored scenarios. For example, from my perspective, this is the seventeenth time that I have been rescued by the two of you." She paused giving the other Neko time to process before continuing on, "There was much pain in the beginning and isolation, but after a point, I believe that the system that was in charge of me determined that brute force was not going to work. As such scenarios of kindness were interspersed, rescues, redemption, praise, as well as further punishments for not accepting the olive branches as it were. Some scenarios even involved campaigns based on wars that the SAoY, and GSA before it once fought. As well as foreign attache missions involving former allies of the Empire."

There was another thought as Tamamo considered what she had been able to piece together before she carried on, "I suppose in some ways I have been gifted with a wealth of practical, combat, and life experience, though I am fairly certain that much of it was falsely injected memories and not actual runtime experience, given the short time that I was actually in the system. Perhaps it was an effort to instill respect for the action taken by the Empire, or alternatively a psychological assault using the horrors of war. I am not truly qualified to judge.

"On the other hand, I can with confidence inform you that their efforts while unexpectedly potent and clever, were not effective. I, however, must deny you the knowledge of why it was ineffective as until I am certain that I will never again experience the gentle embrace of a SAINT computer system. Hopefully, you will forgive my urge to preserve my existence. I am however happy to continue to answer any other questions that you may find relevant, or comforting."
 
The color seemed to drain from Sakamoto's cheeks as Tamamo spoke, the Jiyuuian woman standing there, quietly listening.

"Even though...even though it's the seventeenth time. You still came along with us. You didn't attack us, or shout, or get angry, or anything like that," she observed, slowly continuing. "Because, you already knew that it was the safe, logical choice. Because there was a chance we really would." The words stood on their own for a while as Sakamoto looked upon the small, broken Neko before her, gently floating in the tank of crimson blood. She looked so frail, and vulnerable, stirring emotions deep inside Sakamoto, even though she knew that Tamamo was someone not to be trifled with. Someone deceptively, dangerously gifted.

Her face stirred ever so slightly by these unspoken, unknown feelings as she laid a hand against the tank.
 
Turn the traitor back, huh.

Yuna swept her hand back across over her hair; the color returned to it, a shining fuchsia. She sliced the silence through with a pointed sigh, then shook her head. She wasn't going to get answers, and she couldn't blame anyone.

It was a small wonder why SAINT acted the way it did. She didn't need Tamamo to reply; that would have been comforting from a confirmation standpoint, but she knew.

Yamatai couldn't withstand traitors. They'd had too many. Even the innocent type, the type who just couldn't handle shit anymore and needed to leave, to go. They needed loyalty.

They needed control.

Yuna looked down at her closed fist. Tamamo ... the Special ... someone like Sakamoto.

Who could Yamatai tolerate or trust among its most unique? Maybe that was it. Conformity bred control; outliers brought unbalance.

It was too much thinking for Yuna. She squeezed her fist and looked back at Tama.

"When you're healed, where do we drop you off?"
 
Holding her silence as her companions drew their conclusions, Tamamo idly longed for the capacity to see into the thoughts of another to take comfort from knowing the inner workings and conclusions drawn. Though something she had never known the brief desire was all too tantalizing, given her circumstances and recent past it was an irony that she appreciated in silence.

The question she was presented with gave rise to a small bubble of confusion, one that was somewhat suppressed as Tamamo replied carefully, "Would I not be taken to see who, or what I was brought to Ull for?" What she didn't say was that she didn't quite like the idea of having been brought to this SAINT facility only to be scooped up by others and tortured with no real reason for her presence. Such a thing could breed resentment she supposed, though she doubted that was an outcome likely for herself.
 
Sakamoto's laughter was like sunlight piercing through a dark, rainy sky. Crisp and refreshing, its mirth and joy was unmistakable. As was the Jiyuuian woman's sly smile.

"Yes, you still have a date waiting for you Tamamo-chan. It's always better late than never of course! And, if we're lucky, you might just get something in return given recent events." It wasn't untrue. SAINT may be an intelligence agency, but it was a Yamataian one; it's junior officers had shamed it, and this was nothing new. Saving face was a big deal, and there was not going to be any attempt at that by simply silencing Tamamo for good simply because this sort of thing has happened far too often already. It would fall to alternate means, and hopefully, it was the carrot and not the stick. That thought aside however, Sakamoto turned her attention back to what had her lips form such a delectable smile, having finished restraining herself long enough to answer their blue kitten.

"Yuna-senpai," she sweetly began, smiling like a cat who cornered her mouse. "Why have her leave so soon?" the 'kōhai' mischievously asked. "Could it be? You don't want her to stay here any longer?" The woman's words began to gently poke and prod as she slid up to the younger Neko's side. "Ara ara! Are you - " she playfully gasped dramatically, "Worried for her?"
 
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Yuna stiffly ignored her partner. Her blood temperature rose a few degrees, but she kept her calm.

"I forgot," she said to Tama, "that we have some other place to be. I'm sure the Taii has us on our way already."

* * * Two days, six hours later — SAINT Deep Space Observation Post, Ull, Heimdall * * *

The observation post was little more than a FOB on the surface, though it had an energy shield around it and a large sensor facility at its core and a starport large enough for a shuttle. The base was upgraded with the production of the Type 33 POM.

Which made it seem very innocent to any passersby who ever saw it.

Beneath was a Spire that featured few people — perhaps a large battalion's worth; SAINT never was clear about it — and many, many sensor and communication arrays, including one very powerful transceiver constructed through the center.

Most people worked at the spire's root, many kilometers below the surface. There, nested at the bottom of the transceiver, rested the entity Tamamo and her caretakers needed to see.

SOLOMN — Single-Origin, Loyal Omniscient MachiNe​

The ride down to the root took surprisingly little time — mostly because they flew down themselves, Yuna holding the healed but still-considered-recovering Tamamo on the way down through the center of the spire. They passed by any number of doors, leading to who knew what else. Nothing Yuna wanted to know about. More spooky shit, she wagered.

Minders met them at the bottom, dressed in black panels and with equally black hair. The ranks gave Yuna pause — a Shosa was the least ranked, a Shôshô the highest. The Shôshô introduced herself as Ooura Anna. She had a Taisa with her, a Takomi Rin.

The Taii hadn't been allowed to come with them. Weird, that.

"How are you feeling, Tamamo-san?" the Shôshô asked, her voice echoing across the empty, flat walls of the spire's "base". Yuna wondered exactly where they were going to go from there, and why on a planet as cold as Ull that the spire was so warm inside. She tugged at the collar of her black-paneled Type 22 uniform.
 
For the better part of the past 54 hours, Tamamo had been terminally bored.

It might have been expected that after being dismembered, mutilated, and tortured that an individual would appreciate a period of rest. Perhaps in most cases, this would be true, however, for Sesshoseki Tamamo, the time simply felt wasted. In SAINT's custody, as she was, she was without the means to pursue any of her goals, she could not check the status of her active projects, nor could she even properly commit to constructing ideas or concepts to refine upon her eventual release. Given that Tamamo was not really allowed the run of the ship, Tamamo had taken shelter in the pretense of rest often laying or sitting with her eyes closed in an attempt at the illusion of rest while her other senses carried the torch of her hyper-vigilance and near-constant awareness of her surroundings a state that she noted was loosely equivalent to the first few days she had spent aboard the Crimson Kestrel under the care of Luca Pavone. Luckily with time came experience and her relatively new capability to take full advantage of micro-napping kept her from suffering the strain and exhaustion in transit that her time aboard the Kestrel had produced.

This relative stability was a boon with a value that became more apparent the further she traveled. The hospitality displayed by her minders, with Sakamoto's offered company, frequently accompanied by lavish foods, contrasting with Hirasawa's overly stoic but likely anxious check-ups would have certainly worn a younger iteration of Tamamo out long before she had been ushered into the heart of a SAINT controlled and operated Spire. Which would have been something of a disaster as Tamamo was quite certain that the Shôshô would have been quite put off had Tamamo burst into tears as exhaustion and an overflow of buffered information overwhelmed her. Instead, Tamamo was able to deliver a crisp, low bow executed with formality and grace that were not for the fact that she was wearing one of the new, fabulous neon pink spray-on outfits in place of her destroyed cheongsam she might have appeared professional or if lucky, impressive.

Holding her bow at its lowest point Tamamo answered the question to the floor, making an effort to get her normally quiet and soft voice to carry at a polite volume, "I am of a tolerable status Shôshô." She paused and decided that being true to herself was better than providing a false impression and continued, "I am thankful for your concern Shôshô."

The presence of such high-ranked command staff was something of a surprise given her opinion that she was quite unimportant, though perhaps it was the location that required such important personnel to provide clearance, and her existence was irrelevant? Tamamo had no way of knowing for the moment and as such decided to simply maintain her low bow, idly tightening the freshly regrown tails wrapped around her thighs as the only motion she allowed herself.
 
At this point, Sakamoto had some understanding of Tamamo, at least, more than others.

And, as a result, she did everything she could to keep the younger Nekovalkyrja from becoming bored. Not that she succeeded of course. Making small talk, fussing over what she was going to wear, and even offering to hem her own dresses and fit her in them all likely paled in comparison to what she truly liked to do. The Jiyuuian knew that Tamamo had likely outgrown such things, even if she feigned pleasure at such. In the end of the day though...spray on clothing. It just had to be spray on clothing. The hot pink was pain to Sakamoto's senses. But spray on, cling to the body fabric was what Tamamo wore. Though she was bleeding out of the ears earlier due to stress, she had soon found herself bleeding out of the nose, and though she promptly put that to a stop, did worry.

She worried a lot. In the end of the day, this was the moment of truth. Entering with Tamamo, Sakamoto bowed as was expected, but remained silent. Not even a peep across their minds. Not even to reassure the younger Nekovalkyrja - she didn't need the distraction.
 
The Shôshô Ooura smiled and dipped her head in her own small bow. She brushed her long, stick-straight hair — maybe a more dark brown than black — behind her uniform as she returned to a relaxed pose, balancing on her back foot with her arms behind her back.

"As polite as advertised," Ooura said. "But much more lovely! The Taii did not do your uniqueness justice, Tamamo-san."

The Taisa behind Ooura — Takomi — flicked her eyes upward. She didn't seem impressed.

"I do not want to keep you all waiting," Ooura said as she gestured off her right shoulder, back toward a set of double-doors in the wall. "Our time here should be brief. SOLOMN has not had someone to examine since the Special, but it believes ... well, you should learn about that yourself. Wouldn't you say?"

The wide doors gently slid open behind Ooura, and she gracefully pivoted toward them, hair sweeping behind her. Yuna took note that Ooura was a little on the shorter side for a Neko, top-heavy and as sweet as molasses as she clicked down the hall in her heels. Compared to the sour Takomi, who followed in Ooura's footsteps in her soft boots and occasionally slipped a glance over her shoulder back at Tamamo.

Her eyes were as white as sun-bleached bone.

The warm, dim hallway was truncated just a couple dozen meters away. Transparent walls on either side revealed columns of SAINT analysts — in the dark — at volumetric terminals that glowed electric blue. None turned to look at them, though Tamamo saw that a couple glanced back and forth between panels monitoring their walk and whatever data they were assigned to crunch. Tamamo counted 80 in all, 40 in each room that spanned the length of the hall. At the back of each room were clusters of officers, at least by their rank pins. They only watched, pointing at this stream or that set, eyes gleaming in the soft light. Some streams came across as orange; one watched by a trio of officers in particular was bright green, with a dark blue one beneath it. Tamamo couldn't hear anything beyond the walls; wherever they were, the analysts were sealed up.

At the end of the hallway was just a blank, vaguely metal wall. Tamamo's vision compensated, and she could see it was Zesuaium.

"SOLOMN," Ooura simply said. "Are you ready?"

The Zesuaium wall ... a piece of it blinked. From opaque to transparent. A split-second to go from one to the other. It was a small circle, no bigger than a Neko's face and right about at eye level. Ooura gestured everyone to get closer to her, though Tamamo she waved up to the front with a volumetrically manicured hand and a big smile.

Which left Tamamo face-to-face with the blank wall, until it blinked at her too. Another head-sized hole, there and gone in an instant.

Tamamo couldn't see anything beyond the hole at first, even with her abilities. Whatever was beyond appeared as dark and empty as the space between galaxies.

She noticed movement in the upper corners of the wall. Pinholes forming, dozens at first followed by hundreds more. The two clusters formed circles a couple dozen centimeters square. Two more circles formed at the bottom corners.

Then, it spoke.

"Good morning, Tamamo," it said. The voice spoke with masculine Yamataian conjugation, but the sound of it was androgynous at best. The Neko could tell that the sound was coming through the holes in the Zesuaium. The sound filled the hall — Tamamo took note that the doors into the area had closed behind them — but not with bombast or cold. "Will you speak with me on this day?"
 
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