Ruli, too, looked like he'd tried to listen but was overwhelmed by the majority of what was offered. But he nodded. "I remember it, but hopefully Envy or someone else back will make sense out of it." He answered her, stepping away from the counter, his pale eyes on the doorway through which the botanist and the men had vanished. "I recognized most of the terms. Rotation, irrigation, someone else will be able to educate me."
Really, he was trying not to look as confused as he felt by the woman's instructions, fearing she would suddenly decline the sale out of fear for her precious supply.

"She's got to be good, though, if she's supplying flowers to the wedding." Ruli commented. "Two days. Do you want to be done with this place by then, or loiter during? With everyone looking to the wedding, it might make it easier for you to track your query." Ruli glanced at her, then past her to frown at a very odd looking plant that looked like a closed eye, its long lashes overlapping. Beside it, the sister-'bud' was open like a mouth, pink and yellow, waiting. He stared at it, waiting for it to snap shut if they drew another step closer. Death by plant. Not a victorious death.

Kire chuckled softly. “There were some familiar bits, but gods it was a lot. Maybe if you charm Bolym enough he’d be able to help more.” A long shot, of course. “I could ask for advice back home, too, if I ever find the time.” She glanced, curious, at the door where the men and the botanist had disappeared to. “Two days to get what we need, and after that investigate while everyone is busy with the wedding. Oh! Weddings. That’s something else Amria has in common with this place. I’m sure the rituals are quite different, as they are in my home. There are arranged marriages and marriages between people who love each other. Plus many strategic marriages, if you’re a person of any importance.” She wrinkled her nose at that.

The men and the botanist emerged, with the men rattling off instructions which the woman had most likely already heard a hundred times before. Still, she nodded along and bowed her head politely, still with the cheerful smile on her face, until the men had finally left. Once they were out of sight, the botanist let out a deep sigh, wiped her brow, and bounced back towards Ruli and Kire. Before Kire could put in a question she was off again, but thankfully coming back with a piece of parchment and, presumably, instructions, which Kire couldn’t read. “It’s the least I can do for you poor babies,” she remarked, and Kire flashed her a smile.
“Maybe, perhaps, save us the coin, too?” she asked the botanist in as sweet a voice as was possible for her. The botanist laughed and shook her head, though she did concede to give them a small discount.

“Well, I gave it a try,” Kire said, shrugging, as they left the shop with the supplies in tow. “I am not the best at sweet-talking at all.” Mostly because I didn’t really need to for the better part of my life, Kire thought a little sheepishly. As soon as they went back outside, the smells of food cooking nearby. “Ah. Reminds me, I promised Ysaryn I’d bring her some fish and squid,” Kire declared. “Have you ever seen a royal wedding?”

As Kire described the marriages Amria had, Ruli refrained from glancing at her, though a shadow wandered over his face, led by a memory. "We have the same." He answered, grateful that the botanist emerged shortly after and cut off further trip down memory lane.
She offered them instructions, which Ruli glanced over after recalling Kire couldn't read their text. It seemed to make sense. Anything he didn't grasp could be answered elsewhere. Though certainly not by Bolym. If no one else, Sid. She'd taken up herbology as a past time for medicinal plants.

"It was a good effort." He offered, trying to be somewhat polite as they slipped back outside. He redirected his feet toward the booths for squid when Kire snuck in another question about royal weddings. He sighed, trying not to visible grumble. "Invited to one." He admitted. "Didn't go. No shoes, no service deal." He lied in jest. "Ysaryn gave me her coin again, if you want. Unless you want this to be a gift from you." Ruli glanced at her again as they approached the merchant stall boasting a wide variety of fish, squid, octopus, and even something round and spiky buried in chunks of ice.
Completely fascinated by both the shapes of the sea critters and the ice, Ruli watched as Kire, who knew better than he which was best, picked out a selection and paid.

"Tools, you said." Ruli reminded her. "Maybe if we purchase another ax you won't cut down trees with your bare hands anymore."

Kire chuckled at his jest. That would definitely bar him entry. “Mm. Just as well. Royal weddings are rather pompous, and if you don’t really know the parties involved, frightfully boring. Minus the food, I suppose. And the wine. If ever you find yourself in one, you can drown your annoyance in liquor. Mostly though, the ceremony exists so these lords and ladies can throw their wealth and status around, let them know what they’re gaining with the match. Hm. You were invited, though...” She looked at him, but he again had that look when he’s had enough of her questions and would rather not answer in detail, if at all, so she let it be for now. Instead, she directed her attention back to the seafood, impressed with the catch. “Ooh. She might like the octopus. And if you have crab, that, too,” Kire murmured, though it wasn’t clear whether she really meant Ysaryn or herself. “Do you have, uh, igat?” Kire frowned, trying to remember what it was called in common tongue. “Ah. Eel?”

“Ha. It made for good exercise. But yes, tearing down trees with my bare hands wasn’t particularly efficient. I would recommend it if you badly need a neck to wring.” Kire smirked. “Better we bring the seafood back before we look for tools, though. And I’d rather we get these now before somebody else beats us to the best stock. Maybe by the time we finish, Ysaryn would’ve cooked these.” Kire let herself be distracted by the thought of Ysarym’s dishes before she cleared her throat and paid for the food. “Keep the coin for another time,” she said to Ruli.

He avoided her gaze when she wondered about his reason for invite, not giving her an inch of satisfaction. He didn't want to answer it. He was glad that she was so easily distracted by food. He listened to her list different things, only half of which he knew by name but had never seen before, the rest were completely new.
He wondered, privately, how these things were cooked, and if Ysaryn would let him watch her work to learn a few things from her.

When she purchased her lot and mentioned the desire to return to deliver it, he shrugged. "Go on ahead. I have coin enough to gather some tool sets. What, in all, do you think we'll need?" He asked, his attention momentarily caught by a group of woman in brightly coloured dresses walk by. Their hair was so matted and built up a bird could have made a nest in it. Why?
"I want to ask the sailors for other locations to reside, as well, in case the other refugees aren't as inclined to share."

“Mm. Alright. Axes, more hammers and nails, saws. If you can find one that two people could use, that would be good for cutting down the larger trees faster. Rope. Shovels.” Kire noticed him get distracted momentarily by something and followed his gaze. Huh. That feels familiar. One thing about being an exiled Empress: at least she didn’t have to get stuffed into one of those outfits and hairstyles anytime soon. “Asking the sailors might be a good idea. Though hopefully they don’t just tell you where the best places are for docking their ‘little sailors’,” she added, rolling her eyes, before carrying their haul off to bring it back to the caves.

While Kire had gone back, the streets were suddenly alive with cheering from a distance. An entourage of men flanked by guards whose helmets displayed colorful plumage sauntered down the street, the banners of the Council of Cordon flying from the standards they carried. The men they guarded looked important, with lavish clothing and the same insignia appearing on their coats. And among them walked their right-hand men and attendants. One of these was a well-groomed young man who, unlike the other Lords of Cordon, only gave a small smile to the adoring crowd, his gaze observing their surroundings rather coldly. He wore black, and pinned to the short, plain cape he wore was a brooch made of pale ivory carved into the shape of two faces in profile, set upon a black disk that looked like obsidian. Tiny carnelian beads stood for eyes in the pendant, contrasting with the green of the young lad’s own eyes.

“Why hasn’t your Lord Itallo joined us today?” said one of the councilmen.
“He wasn’t feeling too well, sirs,” the boy named Gavin replied, the tone appropriately apologetic, even if the rest of his expression didn’t reflect it. “If you ask me, the cold spring air and his overexcitement for the wedding is making him too giddy. Please excuse his rather weak constitution.” Gavin chuckled, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be all right before the big day.”
“I must say, my daughters are rather disappointed,” one of the other councilmen remarked. “This bride of his had better be a ravishing beauty.”
“Trust that she is, good sir,” Gavin replied, “and I’m sure everyone in Cordon will be entranced. Looks like Cordon is ready to meet my lady.” He paused in thought, looking around. “No riffraff around, I assume?”
“The elves, you mean?” The councilman’s mouth twitched. “We haven’t had trouble from them of late, but we’ll make sure security is doubled around their little ghetto. We haven’t had reports of complaints. Is Lord Itallo concerned?”
Gavin shrugged. “He trusts your judgment. He hopes they would be dealt with permanently soon. A lot of his plans hinge on this marriage going well. You know him, all his grand plans to usher in a new day for Cordon’s greatness.”

He gave them a small smile that quickly disappeared. As ward and trusted man of Itallo, he was used to speaking for him around Cordon, doing his duty. But being exposed like this sent an anxious shiver down the young lad’s body. Something about being out in the open, being the center of attention, did not sit well with him. He wished this little display would be over soon, but the lord needed him there as his representative. He touched the brooch for comfort, fingering the ivory faces, as he kept his gaze forward.

It took him a bit longer than he cared to admit what she meant by 'little sailors'. Her pursed his lips, if only to keep from cracking a smile, amused more at her vulgarity than the phrase itself. She was gone in an instant, and he relaxed enough to smirk.
He partially wished that he'd gone to watch Ysaryn cook, but he could always being her more of the weird fish, and ask her to teach him how to prepare it another day.
Plus, he preferred remaining instead of leaving Kire here. She couldn't read, and looked far too intimidating with that sowrd on her hip, even with the new face.

As the crowds thicekened on the roadside, Ruli found himself pressed against the side of a building, his hands poised to watch his pockets out of habit. He knew from experience that crowds like this were idea for small-handed thieves to make their move. The crowds would be too thick for an adult to chase a quick child.

Stuck, he was forced to watch the entourage go by, his eyes lingering on the caped figure with bright green eyes. He seemed somewhat familiar to Ruli, but why, he couldn't name. Green eyes like that weren't common, and he felt like he'd glanced at this man before. Curious, he moved through the crowd, trying to catch snippets of the conversation. It was in vain, as he only managed to hear about some wedding jitters before the throng grew so thick he could barely turn in place. Resigned to wait, he stood, watching the entourage make its way down the road.
When at least he was free, he continued toward the docks to purchase tools.

~

Ysaryn squealed at the sight of the bundle in Kire's hands. "Fish!" She exclaimed, stepping forward to look over the supply. "Oh! More than fish. Kirai!" She beamed, pure joy on her face. Quickly, she mumbled in her native tongue, her fingers wiggling, hovering over the fish as if she couldn't decide which to prepare first.

"Come to me! I need to make before they go bad! No way preserve here!" More words in her tongue as she zipped away into the caves, to look for the herbs and vegetables she wanted.
They passed Zeke on the way, who glanced at each woman, then did a double take, halting to leer at Kire. His grey eyes taking in her own greyish eyes, her dark hair, similar to his own, albeit much shorter, and her sun-kissed tanned skin, nearly identical to his. "Is this his idea of a fucking joke?" Zeke snapped, looking around for Ruli. "The fuck is that prick?"

Kire grinned at Ysaryn’s delight; admittedly, it was infectious, and she rather liked the way the elf said her name. “Lead the way, milady,” she said, gladly following and looking forward to what she was going to make, forgetting about Ruli and the tools for the moment. As she carried both the seafood and the supplies from the botanist, they passed Zeke, whom she had expected would ignore or avoid them. Instead, Zeke stopped to leer, particularly at Kire, and suddenly burst out in anger. “He’s in Cordon, buying tools,” she said firmly, though she stood there, not quite understanding what he meant. “I don’t think he has any humor left in his body, so you’ll forgive me for not understanding.” She turned to the elf, her own expression questioning. “Ysaryn?” She looked back at Zeke again, defiant at his gaze, then noticed his eyes.

“Oh. Ohh.” Kire growled, not a little annoyed that it took her this long to notice. He just couldn’t help himself, could he? “One of these days I’m going to shove this ring down his throat if he does something stupid again,” she muttered. “To be clear, I didn’t tell him to make it look like this,” she said to Zeke, “I just told him I wanted to look like someone who grew up here with a decent face. Want me to drag him back here by the ear?”

Ysaryn turned, arching a thin eyebrow as Zeke swore, her expression alarmed at first. Then, seeing the two side by side, she giggled. "I tell you." She grinned wickedly. "Very good look."
Zeke looked from Kire's new face to Ysaryn, then back. "Tch." He scoffed before he turned and left again.
Ysaryn's chuckle followed him out. "Well, I like you face." She said to Kire. She pointed to the exit, where Zeke had last been seen. "Two of you, face to face, cou-"

She froze, looking contemplative, her brow furrow. "Kirai?" She slowly muttered. "Two face, mirror. I saw them." She recalled, her fuschia eyes moving as she filtered through the memory. "In warehouse, where we are stoled to? Put in cages. Drugged. It is unclear. I recall the name, and see a ...." She floundered, pointing to the place on her chest where a brooch would sit. "Tachol. Gem-in-nai." The elf met Kire's gaze, looking alarmed, her eyes dark and haunted. "They take elves. Many. Many not to sold for slavery."

Kire smirked at the elf, shaking her head. "You seem to always like my face anyway," she commented, then stopped when the elf said her name, a haunted look taking over her features. She didn't quite understand what Ysaryn meant at first, but the more she spoke, the more it became clearer to Kire. Gemini. Kire frowned, gesturing at her own chest similar to what Ysaryn did. "Brooch. There's two faces on the jewel facing each other, is that what you meant?"

Kire swore in her own tongue, her anger fueled by the fearful quiet Ysaryn had sunk into. It took a great effort not to pull more answers from Ysaryn so she could go back immediately and begin the hunt. Instead, Kire swallowed her age and let it simmer. "Ysaryn," she said in a low voice, "What else do you remember about the warehouse? What do you mean 'not sold into slavery'?" She reached out and touched her hand gently, though her own trembled with the anger she was holding back, her own eyes dark with it.

"Yes." Ysaryn nodded, still looking bothered. "Two face, mirror. I say." She confirmed, watching Kire as she swore (which, she would have found endearing in a different situation), and the anger that seemed to flood through Kire, taking its time to crawl into every appendage. As Kire approached, Ysaryn didn't retreat, but shifted her body when Kire grabbed her, as if ready to fight out of pure instinct.

"I do not recall much." Ysaryn admitted. "I say, they drug us." She pulled at her sleeve with her free hand, revealing scars along the inside of her elbow from multiple injections along the vein. Dozens of small, dark grey spots marred her skin. "I remember being dark. Smell of rot. Like home. Maybe in the slums, but hard to say. Lots of Cordon sunk long ago. Lots of rot and sea."
She chewed on her lip, staring at Kire, trying her hardest to remember to help the woman. "Green eyes. I recall. Very pretty. Rare to us. But cold. Empty." Ysaryn thought some more, then clicked her tongue and raised her leather tunic.

About an inch beneath her belly button, there was a thin, pale grey line of a crooked scar, only perhaps an inch long, itself. "I wake up on table." Ysaryn recalled. "They do not know red hair makes strong against their drugs. I come to. They are surprise. I fought. Bled. Made free, and to Bolym, who sewed me shut." Her fuschia eyes had lost some of their fearless glare, and she looked paler. "I do not know why, Kirai."

Kire was silent, though her lip curled in anger and disgust, as Ysaryn showed her scars. She wasn’t familiar with this; maybe this was something new Ikegai had learned, or a method well-known to slavers. But she could imagine what it entailed. Something to put the drug into the blood faster. A warehouse near the sea. Couldn’t be too close to the city or even the people would suspect. Far from where she and Ruli would emerge, or Kire would have felt it the moment they stepped out of the shadows. But close enough so they could pick off elves from the slums. She tried to picture what Ysaryn had described of the Gemini: green eyes, soulless. Wearing their family’s insignia. There were many with green eyes back home, definitely a few from the Gemini.

She watched the elf lift her tunic, saw the scar below her bellybutton. The hand that held Ysaryn’s tightened a bit, though Kire stopped herself from squeezing hard. “I know why.” Kire let go of Ysaryn and touched her abdomen. “I have it, too.” She wanted to comfort the elf, but she didn’t know how. And clearly, touch was something Ysaryn was still not entirely comfortable with. “The woman who wears my face—she’s a doll made of flesh. Inside her is a gem that keeps her alive, gives her magic, gives her that face. And back in Ziad, there was a corpse of a Kartaian who had a gem on his body, too. Like a puppet. I think that’s what he was trying to do.”

Remembering Ysaryn’s outburst the other day, Kire huffed. “And—Lord Itallo. He has something to do with this, doesn’t he?”

Ysaryn tensed when Kire's grasp tightened, her eyes darting from the women's face to her hand for an instant. She was released, and Kire felt her own abdomen, and the elf blinked, looking back up, seeking answers.
"A gem?" Ysaryn repeated, thinking of diamonds, rubies, the only sorts she'd ever seen and had only hoped of getting her hands on. "Gem makes dolls?" The word 'dolls' curved oddly on her tongue, the word too foreign. She didn't know this word puppet, either.

"Itallo is two faces. One face is Council. Other face is stoler. Steals elf. Makes his coin with our flesh." The elf shuddered, pulling her sleeve back down. "Neither face is good. But one pretends. Bad blood. Ugly heart." Ysaryn turned her head to spit on the ground.

"What is this word, 'puppet'? Doll is toy? A slave? He wants make slave?"

Kire forced her thoughts to calm down to answer Ysaryn’s questions. “Blood magic. They take a gem, plant it into a body and use it as a conduit—” She frowned, not sure if she could explain properly to the elf, “—like a way for the magic to flow into the body and control it. Dolls and puppets, they’re toys. Like a slave, only the gem will control you body and soul. Like the dead Kartaian I fought, there isn’t really a mind or a soul in it anymore. It can move, it can fight, but it can’t think or feel. And it will obey only the commands it gets through the gem.”

So, this Itallo is a slaver, and he makes coin out of them. Is he selling to Ikegai? “Thank you, Ysaryn,” Kire said softly; faced with nobody else but the elf and her distress at the dark memory, there was nowhere else for her own anger to go. For now. “I’m—sorry. That you went through that. That my enemy got to you.” She offered a small smile. “But I’m glad you fought, and that you are here now.” Her smile disappeared. “I’ll end him. The Gemini, this Itallo—when I’m done with them they won’t harm anyone else again.” More promises.

Kire sighed and leaned against the cavern wall. “I’ll speak to Ruli about this when he comes back.” She looked over at the elf and smiled again, hoping to help her shake the memory off. “So, tell me. How do you want the fish cooked? I don’t have talent for that, but if you tell me how, I might pull it off.”

Ysaryn went still, eyes unfocused as she lost herself in thought. Mind and body, enslaved. No thoughts or feelings. She had barely managed to escape, had bled so much, had fought so hard. What of the others that hadn't been so lucky? Her people? Her own kin, trapped and cut into for this mage's dark magic? So many faces swam by her, ones she missed, and thought of often. Gone. For what purpose?
As Kire promised to end them, so no one else would be cut into and stripped of their free will, the elf straightened. "You better." She said firmly, looking back down to the supplies and the potential meal she had looked forward to.

"I cook." She declared, decidedly. "You burn, you say. I need to stop thinking. Busy hand. Clear mind." Her hands rubbed over her face as she shook the chills and crawling flesh away, reminding herself that she was safe.

There was a shout beyond in the main chamber, followed by the clatter of metal falling on the ground, and she froze for a second, listening. "He is back." Ysaryn informed her. "Zeck found him first."
Indeed, Ruli strolled in seconds later, cupping a bloody nose. He grumbled inaudibly to the two women as he strolled by, heading outside to wash.

Kire broke into a genuine smile when Ysaryn reminded her of her prowess in the kitchen. "Can't wait to taste your cooking." She looked sharply behind her, hearing the commotion, then shook her head when Ruli walked in."Indeed." Kire watched him stalk off outside to clean himself. "That's a great look on you," she called out after him before turning back to Ysaryn. "Boys. And they say women are fickle and emotional." Kire rolled her eyes. "It's like he doesn't want forgiveness."

She stood aside, watching Ysaryn prepare the food, admittedly hungry. At some point she remembered how foul-smelling the elf's tea was, but thankfully the seafood didn't smell anything like that. And just as Ysaryn used this time to distract herself from reliving that horrific moment, Kire resolved to put it out of her mind till later. "You know, back home, old folks would comment that you're ready for marriage when you can cook properly," she commented with a smirk. "Probably why I can't settle down."

It was one of the few things she enjoyed for herself, as well as survival. Cooking. Back home it was something she was taught young. Best way to know you weren't poisoned was to have your food prepared by your own hands. Ysaryn had always enjoyed strolling through the little garden to pick what herbs she wanted to cook with before losing herself in the task.
She would always make room for a garden, no matter where she went.

"I do not want to marry either." Ysaryn admitted. "Mother insists. Father does not. He does not want some young blood to challenge him. He knows I will not choose a poor fighter." The elf grinned over her shoulder at Kire, before glancing past her. Ruli had snuck back inside to watch her cook. His face was already bruising around the nose, and blood spattered his tunic. When he offered no part in the conversation, Ysaryn went back to her work.

Each item bought and delivered was stuffed with herb seasoned root vegetables and ground up bits of fish or octopus, wrapped and fried until it sizzled and bubbled invitingly. Ysaryn set everything on a roughly made clay serving tray before motioning to Kire. "Take first pick. As thank you." Ysaryn smiled happily. "Then me, then you." She added with a glance toward Ruli, who only grunted. "Take one to Envy. Whatever he want. I suppose I can take one to Zeck. Or you'll get new face." She teased him, and he glowered quietly.

“I don’t doubt that, either,” Kire remarked with a smirk at her comment about her potential suitor, then looked behind her at Ruli. She clicked her tongue at the state of his nose and tunic, then turned back to look at Ysaryn’s cooking. “First pick? I’m honored,” Kire said, grinning. “It’s been a while since I’ve had good crab.” She found a bowl to use and picked stuffed crab and squid, though she didn’t touch her food until the rest had been divided up. Once Ysaryn was ready to eat, Kire pulled off the silver ring and secured it in her pocket. Given the commotion her new face stirred, and with Ysaryn eating with her, Kire felt it pointless to use it now. If he’s going to make it difficult to have either face around here, anyway, I’d rather be myself.

She ate quietly for a while, savoring every bite. “Seafood really does taste better from coastal settlements,” she said, halfway through the meal. “Your hands are magic.” Then, realizing how that sounded, Kire blushed a bit and went quiet again. “So whoever you choose has to challenge your father? And he becomes chief?” Kire shoveled another mouthful before continuing. “Can you become chief?”

Ysaryn chuckled low over the octopus she'd claimed. "Very magic, yes." She confirmed with an eyebrow waggle. Her eyes watched Ruli as he chose one of the fish and sat quietly in the corner with it, offering no intrusion into their conversation. For a few moments, she observed him before grinning back to Kire.

"I am chief, after. Born of right." Ysaryn answered. "But, until I am prove ready, old chief holds control of warriors. My mate may challenge him for this position. I run whole tribe. Mate can run warriors. My father, born of right. Not mother. She is only mate. No control. Save for over father." She added with a mischievous grin.

She took a moment to enjoy her meal before looking back up, searching Kire's real face with interest. "You are chief, almost?" She remembered. "You do not want to marry or find a mate?" Ruli glanced up, curious over the word 'chief' to describe Kire, but lowered his head against shortly.

Kire listened as Ysaryn answered her question, nodding as she understood. She chuckled at her description of her mother’s role as mate. “You would make a great chief, mate or no mate,” she commented in between mouthfuls. When Ysaryn asked her about being “almost chief”, Kire nodded, glancing for a moment at Ruli before looking at the elf again. “Like a chief. Not anymore. Not like before.” She gave a small smile. “Many wanted to marry me. I didn’t like them. Many still do, but not as much, and even then I still don’t want to marry any of them. They only want to be ‘chief’, or want me to be indebted to them. They’re not courting me to be with me, and I have no time to waste on that.” She smirked and shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve seen many unhappy marriages. Seems like I risk a lot to be tied down.” She paused, then showed her right hand. “Let’s just say I am married to my job.”

She grinned, then bent back over her meal, finishing it. “Gods, that was good. I wish I had half your talent in the kitchen. Hey, did Envy like it?” she asked, finally acknowledging Ruli.