Easily Startled Cave Dweller

I know I said last year might be the last time I post Trammander art for Erris’ birthday because I had run out of ideas. Well. I was wrong. Obviously.

So here we are, in the sixth year, with another batch of random Trammander moments:

Erris falls asleep in the middle of sword-sharpening, and Trahearne thinks she's dead because Orr is an awful place to find someone unconscious;

Trahearne successfully grows ① sapling in the dead land, and Erris is being very normal about it;

Trahearne receives Saladbolg but doesn't know how to use a greatsword, so Erris tries to teach him to wield it like a guardian, which ends very unfavorably;

and finally, Trahearne speaking his arguably most (in)famous line, Run, you filthy cowards! while Erris stands next to him like, Oh no, the useless mercenaries broke my Marshal.

And that is how The Expanse slaps my face with Clarissa Mao.

Her motivation has a major miscalibration that's unexplained, her skill set aka the "mods" feels disconnected to the rest of the technology background, her redemption arc skips the part where she earnes it and arrives directly at having emotional support from the protagonists.

Also I found it extremely ironic that in a show where most of the humanity lives in deprivation, the daughter of a mass murderer who is also a mass murderer herself lives in a nice, comfortable cell with private medical service and long-distance communications so she can get her emotional support. Which should be a critique about how the rich and powerful escape punishment given the genre of the show, but somehow isn't. And no reason is provided other than that she is a pretty, rich, damaged girl who is destined to join the protagonists' circle.

The story seems to promise to be intellectual, grounded, with rules and consequences. Then it starts to waive the law of how its world operates on for a favorite, and it cheapens everything.

A Seneschal’s duty is to carry the weight of his Lord Captain.

I commissioned the trio for the International Women's Day but didn't make it...

It happens. Whatever. Every day is a good day to appreciate badass women.

“The phrase ‘strip away’ was rhetorical. Conviction is not a layer of fabric we force off or upon others, Brother Interrogator. If the heathens believe whatever I say and praise the God-Emperor as they once praised their idols, it only proves they will apostatize just as readily when the next heretic bids them worship the Archenemy. "

Besides stuff like Heinrix staring at Dandera from a distance, Sister Argenta glowing at Ecclesiarchy validation, this chapter has two major parts.

First, Abelard calling Heinrix out for not doing his job:

“There is no discord.” Werserian’s expression hardens. “We may dissent from one another on occasion, but it is always resolved within the remit of the dynasty. Whatever matter exists here, I assure you, Master van Calox, does not require your interference. Could you not find something more fitting to your station than crawling inside out coolant pipes? Such as pursuing the Inquisition’s work so the Lord Captain doesn’t feel compelled to do it for you?”

Second, Reverend Veritas trying to do therapy with Heinrix:

Time to pat your Inquisitorial puppy on his head for good fortune ՞ᶘ•ﻌ•ᶅ՞

I remember picking noble origin instantly when I played RT for the first time, because the skills' pampered vibe was just too hilarious.

In this chapter we have: 1.Heinrix and Abelard glare at each other silently:

“Yes, Master Werserian. I have not vanished yet.” “And the dynasty stands ready to accommodate your mission, esteemed Interrogator. As always.” “I expect no less.” Werserian’s eyes narrow. Heinrix stares back unmoved. Beside them, the Lord Captain lets out a soft, joyless chuckle, serving only to break the silent glaring contest between them.

2. Abelard trying to keep the ship from falling apart:

"The thought of a death cult temple beneath the flagship's freight line is deeply unsettling.” The Seneschal exhales. “The spinners claimed to have ‘carved their sanctum from the ship’s bones’. I am speaking of hull integrity, Lord Captain. If they have compromised the keel, the consequences will be catastrophic. 

3. Kibellah, skipping all the pleasantries and asks Heinrix to steal Pasqal's blood for her:

“I need the red priest’s blood. He denied my petition. Said it was ‘not subject to appeal’. You are capable of extracting his blood regardless of his will. You are a master of the flesh, Veni’Heinrix.” “Don’t—” Heinrix draws a slow breath, reins in the reflexive repulsion. “Do not call me that. Do not call anyone that.” Kibellah likely uses the term without deliberately comparing him to the Haemonculi or something fouler still. To her, it is a liturgical epithet born of the sacramental reverence for anatomy common among death cults, a view that so often strays into borderline heresy. Even if she had sought his assistance properly, Heinrix would not extract Magos Haneumann’s blood without his consent for dubious death cult rituals.

4. And Idira being deeply suspicious of a kind Interrogator.