~There are none higher. Gods are stupid, verminous things, and monsters like me cannot have your power. But...thank you, Helena. You may not comprehend the power you wield, but I have already seen it, and it is a thing of terror and beauty. The being Security, I think, personifies it rather completely.~

Grace swims back over, and slowly brushes a selection across Helena's forearm; the sorts of cloth she's seen and felt her poet wear, in endless matches, that she's hooked onto her harpoon and known Helena to prefer, even if she never understood why.