Efaen's nostrils flare, and she struggles to keep her thought-speak respectful. <Yeerks are Yeerks,> she says coldly, <With all due respect, Prince Ossanlin, perhaps it is their propaganda that is swaying you? How can you be sure of their true intentions?>
She takes a moment to breathe deeply, calming herself, before addressing the question regarding her infestation. <I do not need to relax, thank you. There is little time these days for rest. Unless you forgot that there is war brewing throughout the galaxy?> She scuffs her hoof on the floor, as if to demonstrate her eagerness to be playing a part in the war rather than relaxing in a bar.
<I was at the end of my training as an aristh when it happened. In fact, the next day was to be the promotion ceremony, when I would be entitled to the rank of Warrior. It had not been easy. The military may have opened itself to females, but they are hardly accepting,> She gave both Ossanlin and Claxter a fierce glare, as if daring them to denounce her based on her gender.
