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By contrast, Ceraskia was as put together as she always was. Prime and proper, even in the indecently scant covering her fuku provided. It was, she kept reminding herself, no different than some of the costumes she had warn up on stage. The bigger draw back, especially this time of year, was the chill. Magic seemed to offer some measure of protection, but there was only so much to be done when the weather was still crisp and occasionally frosty.

The dancer was on the look out for potential marks. Targets that would be easy to siphon a touch of energy from or, if she were really lucky, some poor unfortunate soul pasted out in a gutter. Rip for the pickings.

Her mistress would be so pleased if she could bring her a star seed.

She did not, in her patrolling, notice the similar aura lingering near by. At least not quite yet.

The sudden appearance of another corrupt was fairly startling, but Ceraskia possessed a certain ingrained poise about her that cut off the little gasp, and lessened the obvious jump. Instead the young girl stood frozen for a moment before dark lips pressed in an unhappy line, clearly not pleased by having been caught unawares. Unhappy a touch embarrassed. Or perhaps that was guilt. Her mistress wouldn't have been pleased to see the dancer caught off guard.

All the same, manners were manners, and this was another soldier of their court. One of a higher rank, in fact. It meant a small bow of her head in respect, the soft upward twitch of her lips in a tiny smile. Formalities that must been upheld. "I don't often see many of my own kind, either." Usually her company was her general of her general's pet captain. The one more favorable than the other.

"I'm Ceraskia, of scorn." Again that small smile. Perhaps she could find herself an ally tonight.

Discord and scorn, not a bad combination, the girl mused idly to herself as she took inventory of the other senshi's fuku. It was more concealing, to be sure, and Ceraskia felt a small pang of jealousy. Her own was so very revealing, immodest. Not at all like her usual attire, save what she wore on stage.

"You startled me, but it came with a valuable lesson as well. I should have been paying closer attention." It never would have happened if she'd been at her general's side. Too concerned with impressing the lovely lady. Proving herself the valuable prize the woman had coveted enough to bring under her power.

"Haumea isn't a name I recognize." To be fair, there were very few of her kind that she knew the name of. Amphitrite, the one that had called the meeting some time ago, and Alkaid, a general in her own right. Neither of which she had personally met, yet.

The dancer nodded, small hands folding in front of her. "Fairly new. My mistress brought me into the fold close to the new year." It was odd; even being so very new, Ceraskia had difficulty picturing her life without previous to heR corruption. The memories remained, but they simply didn't seem as fulfilling as they once had.

"And yourself?" She asked politely. "How long have you been a part of all this?" There was more she wished to ask, but she didn't want to overwhelm the other woman with a rambling string of questions. That would have been rude, as well as undignified. The girl was never that.

That was quite a long time, though she supposed there were those that had been with the Negaverse for much longer. Not everyone was new, surely. "That is an impressive length of service," she commented primly, acknowledging without prying. She was curious if it routinely took years for those of their nature to prove themselves enough to be considered for promotion, if if the other girl had taken a break from her powered duties when she'd gone to live with relatives.

The very idea seemed an odd one. Ceraskia couldn't see herself giving up her powered self, not for any stretch of time. It was one more connection she shared with her general, and she'd be loath to disappoint her.

"My mistress is the one that brought me to the Negaverse and saw fit to reward me with unimagined powers. General Schörl." With general-queen Lauralite's help, of course, and that of the guardian Soyla.

The two had that in common, at least. Ceraskia didn't know that many players in the war yet either, but she attributed that to her overall newness. She had only been at this a number of months, connections would undoubtedly come with time.

Small hands clasping in front of her, the girl glanced along the empty sidewalks near them, lips pursed. She didn't mind meeting agents and corrupts, in fact she rather liked it, but she also had the rest of her quota to fill for the evening, and that wasn't going to happen if she lingered here talking. An unfilled quota would mean disappointing her lady, and that just wasn't acceptable.

"I'm sure you will. She was a very prominent figure in the Negaverse." Now how best to politely excuse herself?

Or Eris herself could have the same idea. Ceraskia smiled back the other corrupt politely, and gave a small dip of her head in a respectful bow. "You would be correct," she answered, palms coming to rest against the fronts of her thighs.

The super was backing up, and Ceraskia made no motion to call her back. Instead she would offer a small wave of one delicate hand. "It was very nice meeting you. I hope the rest of your evening goes smoothly as well."