This happens near the end of the chapter, before the scene with Wrex writing the letter and telling Vox he will need him tonight.

Dialogue could use serious work.

Is the dialogue spoken in Lapine? How would it flow differently than the English conversation earlier? What words or phrases do the rabbits seem to overuse and what do they avoid?

Wrex visits Synx in one of Styx's common areas, she's alone there, having a late dinner at a table by herself. She has on reading glasses, going through some books or papers. There is a plate of mostly uneaten food beside her.

Wrex (stepping up, greeting): Majority Speaker.

Synx (curious, greeting back): Warden.

Wrex: Long day at the council?

Synx: It's always a long day.

Wrex (affable): Perhaps you'd care for some company then?

Despite framing it as a question, Wrex is already taking a seat at the table before the sentence is over. Synx's glance makes note of this, she is growing suspicious.

Perhaps we can hint at this suspicion through her dialogue, maybe she notes allowed what he is doing.

Synx (deadpan): What do you want, Wrex?

Wrex (subtly feigning shock/offense): Is that any way to speak to a trusted comrade? Why do you assume I "want" something? Perhaps all I "want" is the opportunity to share an evening silflay with one of my esteemed colleagues on the council.

As he says this last part he casually grabs a morsel from her plate and chews it as he waits for her reply. But if he was trying to be charming Synx is unimpressed.

Synx (deadpan): Like this morning?

Wrex (confused): ...this morning?

Synx: You were late to the morning address, we waited nearly an hour.

Wrex (nodding, but really stalling to come up with an excuse, caught off guard): I sincerely apologize for that, I was...indisposed.

The below dialogue is really bad and we may want to restructure in the rewrite. We may wish to remind the audience through Synx's words that she's representing the civilian government whereas Wrex represents the military.

Synx (casually pushing the plate away after Wrex absentmindedly grabs another bite, he seems to have the munchies): I'm sure it makes a good impression on the children of Styx when the Warden of Antioch is absent to our address. Not to mention making me miss my breakfast...

Wrex (gently correcting, ass-kissing): I wasn't absent, I was late. Busy enforcing the will of the people through your council resolutions.

Wrex (cont'd, beat, awkwardly trying to change the subject): I liked your address.

Synx: All thirty seconds of it.

Wrex (trying to act sincere): I admit I wasn't there from the beginning, but what I heard was...stirring.

Synx (not buying it, deadpan): I need to come up with some new material.

This 'joke' is a reference to Meesh telling Frux you would think her writers would come up with new material at the beginning of the chapter.

Wrex (blinking, too high to really understand if his compliment worked): You smell great by the way, is that jasmine?

Synx: You smell like weed.

Wrex (trying to act surprised): I can't possibly fathom why...

Synx (deadpan, repeating herself, tried of playing games): What do you want, Wrex?

Wrex sighs in defeat as he leans back in the cushion, his 'arms' hanging off to the side as he stares back at her, considering how to respond.

Wrex (more serious, getting to the point): I wanted to discuss some disturbing allegations I was recently made aware of.

Synx (reaching for some food): "Disturbing allegations..."

Wrex: There's rumor that our allies are planning to retreat from the Northlands.

Synx (between a few bites, calm): That's quite the allegation. And may I ask who brought you this rumor?

Wrex (brief hesitation, his response is a little too quick as he keeps adding to the lie): No one in particular. Banter in the barracks. Word gets around.

Synx (slight eyebrow shrug, subtly condescending): I didn't realize the Warden of Antioch invested so much credence in idle gossip...

Wrex: Well normally I wouldn't, but these are troubled times. I thought it would be best to settle the matter with you directly.

Synx (taking another bite): I see.

Wrex waits for a few moments of silence.

Wrex: it true?

Synx (chewing): Is what true?

We need to come up with a better name for the place.

Wrex: Are the foxes planning on evacuating the Northlands?

Synx: How am I supposed to know. Ask a fox.

Wrex (dumbfounded): You're telling me you don't know.

Wrex (cont'd, chuckling at the absurdity of the lie, leaning in): You represent two-third of the inner council, how can you to know?

We need a better name for the clan here, it's just a placeholder for now. Also, most of this was written before Kae'Kil's relationship to Zarkhan was finalized, so perhaps it makes better sense for them not to refer to him as belonging to a 'clan' at all. Furthermore, this whole dialogue about keeping tabs is kind of cringe.

Synx: We don't keep tabs on the Kil clan's internal activities.

Wrex: Our last remaining trade partners and you don't keep tabs?

Synx: If you want to be our first emissary by all means be my guest.

Wrex: And what if they're gone by the time I get there?

Synx: Then I suppose their territory belongs to us then.

Wrex closes his eyes in frustration, his friendliness becoming strained. He takes a deep breath before sliding a paw on the table to her paw.

This part below needs some serious work, better dialogue and timelines. Also doesn't she already know all this?

Wrex (earnest): Our store-houses have enough rations for maybe two, maybe three months--that is /if/ we begin the harvest early. And that's if we eat the minimum we need to survive. We don't have enough food to make it through the winter on our own.

Wrex (cont'd, beat, maintaining eye contact) Do you understand what I'm saying? If there is really any validity to this rumor, any at all: I need to be made aware.

Synx (pulling her paw back): Well you obviously have a solution. Or else you wouldn't come here. Go on, let's hear it.

Wrex (hesitating): We could join them.

Synx (frowning): I've heard this plan before...

Names below are placeholders and need to be revised.

Wrex: They have ships. We could join their convoy to Westworld. Have them take us to Zarkhan or Dworku, or anywhere else.

Synx: Do you intend to pay the foxes or are you expecting them to act out of the goodness of their hearts?

Wrex: We still have wealth. Not much but we can empty the treasury, sell what's left from Pylos.

Synx (knowingly): That's not much...

Wrex (exasperated, coming up with options on the fly): Then we'll pull the platinum from the furnaces. We'll sell the rest of the AMs. We'll lift the copper from the pipes. We'll scrapes the gems out of the fucking walls, but we'll find a way!

Synx: So what we just...pick up and go? Abandon this city, our last city, taking whatever we can carry?

Wrex (hopeful): We have plenty of man-power. Say what you will about the proles but they can certainly pull their own weight.

Synx: Do you know the Kil clan's primary export to Westworld is?

Wrex: No, what?

Synx: Our corpses.

Wrex's enthusiasm wanes as Synx pulls off her spectacles, folding them and putting them on the table. She rubs her paws against her face in a cleaning routine, as if regathering her composure after a long day, before staring back at Wrex with her green eyes.

We might want to add some more calculations, as if she was thinking about quantifying it, at the beginning of this next paragraph.

Synx (lecturing, matter-of-fact): A journey to Westworld will be slow and arduous, even on a ship that isn't overcrowded by thousands half-feral rabbits. Most of the proles haven't seen the sky, let alone an ocean beneath them. They'll be confused and terrified, surrounded by predators.

Synx (cont'd): If we left tomorrow, Westgate would be at least a month's journey on foot, which means we would need to bring at least a month's worth of supplies, in addition to whatever we intend to barter. Now if they're truly evacuating like you said, that means they won't be back for a round trip. So assuming they even have enough ships to fit us and our cargo, they likely won't have any leftover room for their other trade exports.

Synx (cont'd, beat): Now what do you think a crew of hungry foxes are going to do with a ship filled to the brim with rabbits, each one carrying their own personal wealth? And assuming we make it to Zarkhan, then what? Where do we get off? Who do we trust?

Wrex: We trust our friends. We go to Zarkhan.

Synx (skeptical): Those lions aren't our "friends", we just happen to share the same enemies. Are you really expecting the slave kingdom to just bestow citizenship to us? That would be an impossible request even if it were just our district and you know it.

Synx makes some bitter comment about the foxes only bringing them to Zarkhan as meat and leather and furs.

Wrex: They've never betrayed us before.

Synx (glaring at him, flashing anger): Their betrayal is the reason we're here int he first place. Or have you forgotten?

Wrex (defiant): You can't judge an entire species by the actions of one nation--

Synx (dismissive, putting back on her glasses): Yes, your sympathies with the predators are well established, Warden. Although I don't see why you insist on serving the rest of us up on a platter.

Really does it make sense for this to be his proposal? It's probably something that Narse publicly states, and Wrex (even if it is from him) should present it as being from Narse in the re-write.

Wrex (gritting his teeth): If you will relay my proposal to the the council--

Synx (interrupting, gathering up her papers and books): The council is well-aware of your proposal, Wrex. As far as I can tell it hasn't changed from last year.

Wrex: Then what do you propose?

Synx (packing her things in her satchel, standing up to leave): A solution that doesn't involve mass suicide. The council is considering its options carefully. Will that be all, Warden?

Wrex (standing, nodding politely): Ma'am.

Not sure if this last scene is needed.

Wrex watches her wearily as she leaves. He sits there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, he happens to glance down at the plate of food. He grabs a pawful and shoves it in his mouth angrily.

She glances at him taking a seat uninvited.