Ione Sala, if somebody were to look inside her head - which nobody of Chelish affiliation, at least, is doing exactly at this moment - would not be smiling as much on the inside as she is on the outside.  She is thinking about how it really is beautiful that you could look at a species of half men and half women, and deduce so many other things from that, because you know why they're half men and half women, which is a huge thought she only understands a fraction of, but it implies so many other things.  And with that, apparently, you can just get tossed into another plane, even though nobody where you're from originally knew for sure there were other planes, and by the time you've been there two minutes, you know which parts of the theology lessons are more there because they're mandatory for Asmodeans to believe and which parts are, the other kind of theology, it doesn't do to be too precise about thoughts like that.  But you can end up in another plane you had no idea existed, and within two minutes you know the people there weren't originally created by the gods.

Ione Sala isn't smiling as much on the inside because she's regretting, a little, that her life is like it is.  She does well on tests, it's why she's here, that and being passably pretty.  She carefully doesn't compete too hard in social contests, she aims to end up safely in the middle.  She behaves just as it is safest to behave, towards the students above her and below her, including sexual favors as they are given away to those below her who are useful, or extracted from those above her.  She passes her loyalty scans by being a cautiously obedient game-player even in her own mind, a sort of person that Cheliax considers adequately standard and predictable, a sort of soul that Asmodeus considers to be an acceptably tyrannized slave.  It is the way that things have always been and will always be.  If any parts of her feel otherwise, they are not allowed to voice their heretical thoughts in words; though she also knows, wordlessly in the back of her mind, that if she's a good-enough wizard someday Cheliax will ask her to sell her soul and after that it will be okay to think more freely.  Still some tiny remaining fraction of Ione Sala, even today, wishes without words or acknowledgment that her life could be more like the greater reality she's dimly glimpsed inside a repurposed library in an Archduke's villa: learning things, knowing how one fact connects to so many other facts, seeing how worlds differ across planes.

Ione Sala, if somebody were to look inside her head - which nobody of Chelish affiliation, at least, is doing exactly at this moment - would not be smiling as much on the inside as she is on the outside.  She is thinking about how it really is beautiful that you could look at a species of half men and half women, and deduce so many other things from that, because you know why they're half men and half women, which is a huge thought she only understands a fraction of, but it implies so many other things.  And with that, apparently, you can just get tossed into another plane, even though nobody where you're from originally knew for sure there were other planes, and by the time you've been there two minutes, you know which parts of the theology lessons are more there because they're mandatory for Asmodeans to believe and which parts are, the other kind of theology, it doesn't do to be too precise about thoughts like that.  But you can end up in another plane you had no idea existed, and within two minutes you know the people there weren't originally created by the gods.

Ione Sala isn't smiling as much on the inside because she's regretting, a little, that her life is like it is.  She does well on tests, it's why she's here, that and being passably pretty.  She carefully doesn't compete too hard in social contests, she aims to end up safely in the middle.  She behaves just as it is safest to behave, towards the students above her and below her, including sexual favors as they are given away to those below her who are useful, or extracted from her by those above her.  She passes her loyalty scans by being a cautiously obedient game-player even in her own mind, a sort of person that Cheliax considers adequately standard and predictable, a sort of soul that Asmodeus considers to be an acceptably tyrannized slave.  It is the way that things have always been and will always be.  If any parts of her feel otherwise, they are not allowed to voice their heretical thoughts in words; though she also knows, wordlessly in the back of her mind, that if she's a good-enough wizard someday Cheliax will ask her to sell her soul and after that it will be okay to think more freely.  Still some tiny remaining fraction of Ione Sala, even today, wishes without words or inner acknowledgment that her life could be more like the greater reality she's dimly glimpsed inside a repurposed library in an Archduke's villa: learning things, knowing how one fact connects to so many other facts, seeing how worlds differ across planes.

Ione Sala, if somebody were to look inside her head - which nobody of Chelish affiliation, at least, is doing exactly at this moment - would not be smiling as much on the inside as she is on the outside.  She is thinking about how it really is beautiful that you could look at a species of half men and half women, and deduce so many other things from that, because you know why they're half men and half women, which is a huge thought she only understands a fraction of, but it implies so many other things, apparently.  And with that, you can just get tossed into another plane, even though nobody from your home plane knew for sure there were other planes, and by the time you've been there two minutes, you know which parts of the theology lessons are more there because they're mandatory for Asmodeans to believe and which parts are, the other kind of theology, it doesn't do to be too precise about thoughts like that.  But you can end up in another plane you had no idea existed, and within two minutes you know the people there weren't originally created by the gods.

Ione Sala isn't smiling as much on the inside because she's regretting, a little, that her life is like it is.  She does well on tests, it's why she's here, that and being passably pretty.  She carefully doesn't compete too hard in social contests, she aims to end up safely in the middle.  She behaves just as it is safest to behave, towards the students above her and below her, including sexual favors as they are given away to those below her who are useful, or extracted from her by those above her.  She passes her loyalty scans by being a cautiously obedient game-player even in her own mind, a sort of person that Cheliax considers adequately standard and predictable, a sort of soul that Asmodeus considers to be an acceptably tyrannized slave.  It is the way that things have always been and will always be.  If any parts of her feel otherwise, they are not allowed to voice their heretical thoughts in words; though she also knows, wordlessly in the back of her mind, that if she's a good-enough wizard someday Cheliax will ask her to sell her soul and after that it will be okay to think more freely.  Still some tiny remaining fraction of Ione Sala, even today, wishes without words or inner acknowledgment that her life could be more like the greater reality she's dimly glimpsed inside a repurposed library in an Archduke's villa: learning things, knowing how one fact connects to so many other facts, seeing how worlds differ across planes.

Ione Sala, if somebody were to look inside her head - which nobody of Chelish affiliation, at least, is doing exactly at this moment - would not be smiling as much on the inside as she is on the outside.  She is thinking about how it really is beautiful that you could look at a species of half men and half women, and deduce so many other things from that, because you know why they're half men and half women, which is a huge thought she only understands a fraction of, but it implies so many other things, apparently.  And with that, you can just get tossed into another plane, even though nobody from your home plane knew for sure there were other planes, and by the time you've been there two minutes, you know which parts of the theology lessons are more there because they're mandatory for Asmodeans to believe and which parts are, the other kind of theology, it doesn't do to be too precise about thoughts like that.  But you can end up in another plane you had no idea existed, and within two minutes you know the people there weren't originally created by the gods.

Ione Sala isn't smiling as much on the inside because she's regretting, a little, that her life is like it is.  She does well on tests, it's why she's here, that and being passably pretty.  She carefully doesn't compete too hard in social contests, she aims to end up safely in the middle.  She behaves just as it is safest to behave, towards the students above her and below her, including sexual favors as they are given away to those below her who are useful, or extracted from her by those above her.  She passes her loyalty scans by being a cautiously obedient game-player even in her own mind, a sort of person that Cheliax considers adequately standard and predictable, a sort of soul that Asmodeus considers to be an acceptably tyrannized slave.  It is the way that things have always been and will always be.  If any parts of her feel otherwise, they are not allowed to voice their heretical thoughts in words; though she also knows, wordlessly in the back of her mind, that if she's a good-enough wizard someday Cheliax will ask her to sell her soul and after that it will be okay to think more freely.

Still some tiny remaining fraction of Ione Sala, even today, wishes without words or inner acknowledgment that her life could be more like the greater reality she's dimly glimpsed inside a repurposed library in an Archduke's villa: learning things, knowing how one fact connects to so many other facts, seeing how worlds differ across planes.