Kalaya sits at the table, her body sagging into the wicker seat and hands clinging to a cup of tea. The gesture of thanks she'd made to the server had been in the formal style - a product of years of training so repetitive as to eventually become reflex. Her ears do not register the conversation going on, her eyes are unfocused.

The young knight was at the table - but her mind was elsewhere.

She finds herself replaying scenes from that morning. Of the plans for the tourney, grand hopes hastily scrawled in a way so reminiscent of her childhood drawings. Of her happiness at seeing those aspirations become reality. Of the excitement in the faces of the villagers. Of how alive everything had felt in the melee - where she was surrounded by dozens, hundreds, of people who had wanted to become part of a knight's retinue. Of her retinue. People that could have been compatriots, companions ... friends.

Those memories tasted bitter now.

They'd all been duped. None of it had been real. Kalaya sighed. It had seemed too convenient, too good to be true, that so many people would want - could want - her dream. That was why she'd participated in the melee after all. Test the waters, follow that instinct. But investigating, even suspecting that something might be amiss was very different from having the whole thing confirmed as a sham.

Sometimes it hurt to be right. Who would want to join up with her after all? The weird princess of Lily. The knight of no name. Just another worthl---

A voice, no, a name pierces through the haze.

Kalaya looks up, eyes returning to the present, just in time to see Giriel stand back from her speech.

"Did you say Ven?" she asks, voice too quiet to be heard.

The highlander comes forward next, somehow looming at Petony despite being shorter. But Kalaya finds herself unable to leap to her mentor's defence. In fact, her whole body sits rigid as the words register in her mind.

"I had to leave the kingdoms, Kal" she says, voice slipping out like a dagger leaving their sheath. "... There wasn't any future for me here ..."

Her breath catches. She sets the teacup down hastily, hand shaking.

"I don't want people to know I came back. Not unless it's on my terms. Thus. You know. The hat. And the cloak"

Kalaya stands, head swimming. She mutters excuses and heads for the washroom. Eyes averted. Unable to meet them.

"... some wilted creep who likes dark cloaks, big straw hats, and kidnapping priestesses with demon magic ... the coin she left behind."

The coin. The cloak. The hat.

Snapdragon.

The brooch. Kalaya's fingers prizing it out of a totem that still smells of sulphur.

She doesn't remember the walk to the washroom. Only that one moment she's leaving the table, the next she staring at a wild eyed, pale faced young woman in the water-filled basin. She reaches into the visage, splashing the water on her face. As much a search for solace as an attempt to dispel the stranger looking back at her.

More water. A gasping breath.

Bracing herself against the basin, she tries to rally her mind but it refuses. Formless. Shapeless. Thoughts that simply will not coalesce. A buzzing sandstorm of white noise. She has to get out. Has to breathe. This place. That pathway. What Ven did. Why didn't she say anything?

She stumbles out of the teahouse, away from the gathering. Her feet are moving without instruction - but with direction.

To the hills, back the way she'd come. To Kingeater Castle.

Her cup of tea sits on the table, untouched and cooling.

Piripiri glances about, looking at the various tables bustling about with various people, hiding away from the day's nonsense in a quiet and normally-roomy teahouse. The owner scuttled from table to table, where at a corner table, there is a circle of the interesting characters of today's drama. A priestess, a witch, not one but two knights, a hooligan... yes, she wants to know what is going on.

She quietly gets up from her seat and goes to where the owner is currently doing a frazzled dance trying to get tea on the table for everyone, and silently starts to load up a tray with teapot, cups, and minor treats. "You seem to need the help." She says with a nod, before bustling off to The Table. One would normally be more indirect, but they appear to have launched straight into conversing, and it'd be notable to serve the entourage before the knights. Notable is bad when one wants to be unobserved.

Off to this table, get the orders in proper order (the hooligan surprises, here, with quite a nuanced order, somebody to chat with and swap silly fables of what you surely didn't do in another life). Ignore the tension one could cut with a knife, that's not what your knives are for. And then, serve tea, again in proper order, a cup for the priestess, a cup for the senior knight, a cup for the junior knight, a cup for the witch, and two for the ruffian. If she notices that the junior knight takes her tea with more noble manners than most warriors would (she does), she betrays none of it on her face. If she slips up slightly, and uses the proper, Hymairi protocols for the hooligan, nobody noticed, she's sure. Linger about, refills, serve the hangers-on, and they are... discussing Ven.

Mmm. A brief fight between spiritual duties. One should draw no attention to oneself when not needed, but... she is who she is, in order to fight just these sorts. It's a step deeper.

And so your tea server carefully takes a seat from one of the other tables, sits down, and plops a sword wrapped in green cloth on the table. Her tone is level and quiet, but cuts through the chatter of the teahouse to all at the table. She's done this before.

"The woman you are seeking, based on the clothes you described," this to Han "is Ven, who is based in a ruined castle several hours walk through the jungle. I just escaped it myself, with the aid of another prisoner who I'm escorting to safety. Her title is Prince of the Brass City, and she serves a master in Hell. There are two types of demons in the castle, snake-women who are... responsible for this outfit, and some sort of minion that serves as the standard guard, who wear coats of a putrid green, hoods, and have many medals upon their body. This is one of their swords." And the sword is pushed forward, rolling across the table and leaving it sitting upon the unraveled banner of hell it was wrapped in, center stage. "I am unsure if I can kill them: they are able to be trapped or pinned."

She looks between Han's rage, and Kayala striding out the door, tea untouched, and frowns. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with navigating the jungle, and I couldn't get you back to the castle even if I wasn't getting the other escapee elsewhere as fast as possible. One of you might want to stop that one, then, from doing something... stupid."

She sips Kayala's tea, nervous. She needs privacy and time to contact Red Wolf and update her. This is her duty, but not her job, and she's risked quite a bit on doing the right thing. No comforting sayings from her teacher here, this was a raw gamble.

Zhaojun!

That is too far. You realize it almost at once. The malevolence of the Green Sun is almost palpable. He will tell you things. Such things. He will reveal secrets which will ruin you. He will sing to you of the glory of the dawn of the world and you will stumble, blinded by its wonders, through a world that you no longer recognize. What will it be like? Perhaps it will be a blessing.

In a hidden forest in a cleft in the earth in a ruined pleasure-garden in a ruined kingdom in a ruined age there is a lake and the name of the lake is Mnemosyne and those that bathe themselves in the waters of Mnemosyne pass through into a world whole in a kingdom whole in a pleasure-garden whole in a grand mountain in an egg of meaning and they that enter into this world dress themselves in it and make of it a blindfold and they eat the dust of the earth and think it a feast and do not starve and they drink the rain and think it casks of wine and they do not thirst and all around them is a beauty and a shining and a story in which they are important and beloved and perfect forever and ever so here is the question Zhaojun which is the real world of those who bathe in the waters of Mnemosyne?

This is what the Green Sun means to do to you. His words will make themselves your Mnemosyne and erase all understanding of what is because you will know only what was; you will see the King stride from horizon to horizon, you will see the Judge write the laws of being into the souls of all who live, you will see the River ring round the world with its seven torments which barred the fair folk from entry. You will know the world to be right, because the hierarchy is upheld; you will know the world to be right because you are ruled by the creators.

And the little pink foxes in your blood grab at your spine and your nerves and your ankles and they make you run because they fear oblivion even more than you do, and you flail helplessly but you can't get away, your feet slide on the polished black stone as you draw closer to the Green Sun, and you can feel the heat that radiates off of him begin to suffuse you--

"Master!"

Some demon, some imp, some creature of the palace of the Green Sun bounds into the room, and for a moment, just that barest moment, his attention is not on you. It lifts from your shoulders like a shroud and you are gone, your mind a blind white-hot panic, witch abandoned, answers forgotten, the seething unreality in your blood urging you on. There is no cohesion in what you see; colors spin and sway and the connections between object and meaning, motion and result, name and being break down. Run, run, run! No good to us like that! Run, run, run! Your story doesn't end here!

You throw open a door and tumble down a flight of stairs that goes on forever and ever and ever and you're never going to reach the end of it.

Reality comes back to you slowly. You're being rained on. You're back where you started, and your disguise is gone, and it's starting to rain hard. (No, harder than that. Harder than rain should be able to fall. Hard enough to sting and turn the world into shimmering silver in all directions.) The witch is gone. You're full of jitters, for some reason, a brain full of sparks and a nervous energy that isn't abating. Everything that just happened is a whirlwind of impressions, like paint smeared over canvas by a child.

Tell us of the state that Kalaya finds you in, and how you draw her in, even in the midst of the driving rain.

***

Giriel!

The sky opens up. The gods, too, have come to the conclusion that they were embarrassed by what happened, and are settling it by spurring the clouds harder and harder. Right after Kalaya slipped out, unnoticed until this new (and bedraggled) girl pointed her out, that's when the deluge began. A famous can't-see-your-hands-in-front-of-your-face deluge, a Flower Kingdom special. If she's thinking clearly, she'll duck inside somewhere else-- but she's not, is she? And little use running out after her, not when it's pouring this hard.

Petony does not care about this. Petony is up to her feet and charging out after her charge, and-- well, now it's twice as awkward, because her retinue's not going out into that weather. That's knightly business, it is. So that means that you're, well, essentially in charge of this situation. What do you take from this news of demon-summoning? Do you carry out a divination to see the path forward?

Desire breaks as much as anything. She didn't know what she wanted, didn't know the small wants that would take her to her big wants, didn't know if she should want or how to damn it aah aaah

She was in Iopeter's domain and she hated it, she feared it, her heart thundered louder than the storm as she ran and ran and ran and scratched at her stone mask in frenzy as the emotion raised to crush in through the walls of reality like the moment in the dream before the dreamer escapes her entire constructed reality in horror -

And then the mask comes off. It takes effort to pull off. There is that deep gasp, the gasp of someone who was thinking too fast to even breathe. And Zhaojun draws everything she is up with the mask. The robes, the blue ghost fires, the hair, everything that she is is drawn into the mask as it comes off, folding away inside the stone interior and disappearing. With it goes the thunder, the peril, the emotion, the fear.

Her face is uncovered for a moment before the rain covers it in place of the mask. And then she falls to the ground; a fall at once graceless and practiced.

She lies on the soft and soaking earth, feeling the water soak into their comfortable clothes; a white shoulder cloak above a cheap and comfortable striped green throat-to-ankles dress. It's a sight you'll see in any province in the Flower Kingdoms, sitting at the left hand of the local authority. A scribe, a bureaucrat, centrally trained in the Bandri River University and issued like commodities to assist in all forms of administration. The girl is even less noticeable than the dress, slight and modest, all in brown and black. Her breath takes a while to settle, but settle it does with a strange air of... exasperation? Familiarity? The patience of the resigned.

Then she sits up. Looks around. Wipes a cascade of water off her face. Takes her first truly steady, serene breath. Then, hand over hand, she starts to pull herself through the mud, dragging limp and unresponsive legs behind her.

She reaches a tree and combines gripping it on one side with the leverage from her umbrella - still held tightly even through all her flight. It's not the sort of thing you forget you need once you've learned to need it. Standing is a long and arduous process, but it too is practiced. It's not that her legs do not work at all; instead, the mechanism of the knee is weak. Once she is on her feet she will be able to shuffle at half the speed of a normal person, but the trick is getting there.

On her third failed attempt - the ground is too soft for her to properly brace her umbrella and she keeps slipping - she stops and looks at the mask. Her lips purse and her fingers tap the slick wet surface pensively. She's filled with thoughts but she doesn't speak them out loud.

Then she hears the noise of something approaching and hastily tucks the mask away inside her robe. She curses softly and half reaches for it again - what if it's a tiger? But she freezes, when instead she sees...

For an instant, there is a low growl that begins in the back of Giriel's throat and those of you sitting there may be reminded of a bear that has been disturbed and is offering a warning. Kalaya has stormed out and some new girl has simply joined the table with information about Ven. Just as likely to be the Rakshasa as anything else, being this brazen! Thing after thing after thing, can there be no peace?!

But then the growl is gone. Drowned out in the sudden downpour that so marks the flower kingdoms. And in that moment, the cool air from the fresh rain and the smell of the damp earth wafting into the tea house lowers Giriel's anger from a roar to a low and gentle flame. This, she loved of the flower kingdoms. The sudden change in the land, the remembrance of the world around them, sounds and scents. This was a blessing of the gods and the kindest thing, perhaps, to have come from her summoning in anger earlier. Even more than that, the rain simplified things. Petony had run off, and there was no point running out into all this. And what had the new girl said? That she'd left kingeater castle and that Ven was 'based' there.

"Ven's not home at the moment, is she?" Giriel's lips twist into what might be a smile and she takes a long sip of the steaming tea. You can see her large body shudder with pleasure at the warmth suffusing her and her shoulders lower and relax from their tension. Then, she turns to Han. Where was the rambunctious little mountain monster she remembered? Han was all menace and tension, even more than Giri was. That was no good!

"Han, drink your tea" she says it in that big sister tone of voice, Han. The one you remember from being young and playing in the highlands, the one that you trust and you find yourself reflexively taking a sip before you can really think about it. Which is good because you got such a fancy tea, didn't you? A perfectly brewed orchid oolong, well that's the kind of tea that when it touches your mouth makes you feel as though everything's going to be alright. It's warm and just a little naturally sweet, and it has that floral feeling that you would never admit in a million years makes you relax but you're relaxing now and it's good. Besides, it's Giri, she knows what she's doing. Right now, that even happens to be true!

She's stood up from her little chair and come to stand behind you now that you're a little more calm. Then her large, skilled hands are massaging your back with a firm but gentle pressure. It makes you feel like you could melt and like all the harsh energy is being pressed up and out of you. She's breathing slowly too and it's natural that your own breath would match her rhythm when you can feel her chest rise and fall against you. You might want to take another sip of tea as you breathe deeply in and out.

You might want to complain as well, that this isn't the time for such things, but it's clear from that first tone of voice that Giriel is doing something more than just trying to relax you, and you can realize it when you've had a little more tea and she takes your arm with one hand and begins to swirl your cup while the other holds you around the shoulders. "Han, describe to us who you're looking for, slowly and calmly, with as much detail as you can," she instructs. You move together in slow, calm motions, her hand gently guiding yours, and as you begin to speak, she follows along with you chanting your words in the language of magic.

This is not unlike Red Wolf's divination. Tea leaf reading is a classic for a reason and usually caused less of a scene than burning bones. But where Red Wolf's was hesitant and blushing, a forward and almost rude thing to do, here Giriel is taking charge in her role as a big sister, bringing Han into a safe place where the magic can do its proper work.

It's hard to say exactly what she'll get here. Han is looking for Ven and for a priestess. They might be in the same place or they might not, and since this is a focused reading, it's going to be up to Han what she describes for the magic to follow. But one way or another, it is going to work.

[Divination: 4+4+2=10. Giriel will tell the truth once she gets the reading, allowing Han to clear a condition.]

They listened, she did what she could, the risk did not manifest into a problem. Good. And they... her eyes flick between Giriel and Han, here... they certainly know each other.

With a nod and a mouthing of "I'll be over there", Piripiri gets up from the table and snags Azazuka and a low bowl half-full of hot water from behind the counter when the teamaster's attention is away. With that, she finds an unused, unnoticed corner, and starts her own small rite.

Into the bowl, first, goes a small satchet of powdered herbs. A small string of dried flowers is next out of her small pouch, untied and three very carefully placed in the water. A white lotus. There is no immediate danger, agent safe. Chrysanthemum. Azazuka is present or in custody. White heather. Protection needed, or in this case a pickup request.

She sits back behind a shelf in the back room of the teahouse, holding the bowl, and breaths out, focusing on the water and feeling the magic in it awaken in response to her call, and the flowers revive, before sinking down into the water and vanishing. Now. If things are very dire, Red Wolf can use this to talk. Unlikely, but possible. Otherwise, she'll see her answers, and act accordingly.

Zhaojun!

What does she see?

First, it's a formless shape, moving through the sheets of rain. It soon resolves into a person - a woman - young and clutching an oilskin cloak about her shoulders as she cuts a path through the storm. She pauses, noticing you for the first time, glancing along the pathway as if to check for danger, before stepping closer.

You can make out the sword now, strapped to her side. Her clothing is sturdy, boiled leather armour atop a dark green shirt. The way she moves, flowing across the land, rain misting around her like an aura. All of this speaks to training and her station: A Flower Knight, there can be no doubt about it.

Your eye catches the clasp on her cloak - a dark green brooch in the shape of a Lily. It's only once she kneels in front of you that your eyes begin to track up to her face, taking in tanned features that are both bold and soft; a rounded chin, full lips - misting the air between you with their breath - a few strands of dark brown hair have wisped out of her ponytail, framing high, rosy, cheeks and a well-set nose.

And her eyes, peeking out from beneath long lashes, are the colour of leaves, of emeralds, of life.

The two of you lock gazes for a lightning moment, before she reaches out a hand.

"Hey." she says, voice tinged with concern. "Are you alright? ..."

-===-

For her part, Kalaya hadn't stopped walking since leaving the teahouse. When the rain came, she simply pulled out her cloak, tossed it on and kept marching.

Throughout all of this, her mind kept playing the last few minutes over and over again. Try as she might, she was no closer to a concrete plan than she had been when she'd first stepped out. Her feet just kept driving her onwards, towards Kingeater Castle.

And then what? Try to talk to her? What would I even say? "Hey Ven! So, I heard you like Demons?" ... Ugh, I'm such an idiot.

The sudden downpour had her sniffling and she was fighting a losing battle against the the humidity due to how quickly she was climbing into the hills. Her boots were squelching as the path turned to mud and she was certain she'd need to change to new socks before long.

Adding to her discomfort, visibility was down to basically nothing. In fact, when she first spotted the person lying by the wayside - she'd assumed it was a corpse and was just about to keep walking when it stirred. She'd glanced along the pathway, sorely tempted to keep going. She should check up on them, but a delay - any delay - made her anxiety spike.

For what felt like an eternity, she stood there, weighing her vows against this manic pulling inside her.

She sighed, turning away. For now. Only for now.

Kneeling, she extends a hand.

"Hey. Are you alright?" she starts. "I'm kind of in a rush - gotta make my way into a demon-held castle, probably going to die when I get there. But y'know how it is. Are you able to stand?"

[Rolling for unintentional enticement: 5 + 6 - 1 = 10 - Kalaya will take a string on Zhaojun and she picks one from the entice list.]

A kind stranger with places to be. A dream come true that she's waking up from. A lifetime of silence that needs to be broken. The scribe girl smiles widely, eyes hidden behind the upwards turn, changing one mask for another. This one leaks. Feelings, tears, drip away into the rain. Of course this wouldn't be everything for you too.

"You know how it is," she echoed. "You get a new prosthetic and immediately push it too far. Perhaps you empathize? Being patient isn't the same as being calm..."

She takes your hand. When you try to pull her to her feet she immediately collapses, her legs not getting underneath her in time so instead she falls awkwardly against you. "Oh, sorry," she said. "... I'm going to make you miss your death. I... could you be patient with me, please? I know what it means to ask that, but I really need your help."

[Too Many Feelings: Take a string on Zhaojun, she takes a string on you, Feelings resets to 0.
She immediately spends that string: Mark XP if you take the time to talk to her.]

Kalaya lets out a little 'oof' as you stumble into her, mostly from surprise.

"Hey, it's okay. I've got you." she says. (And she really does, supporting your weight easily despite the driving rain and unsteady footing.) She helps you, maybe more than half-carrying, across to retrieve your umbrella and to lead you towards a rocky outcropping that will provide some small shelter from the deluge.

In truth, it's busywork - something to occupy her hands while her mind plays out her answer. It should have been simple: I will respect the weak and defend them. Her oaths aren't exactly made from shades of grey in this situation.

So why is her mind churning with images of Kingeater castle?

It's not like I even know for certain that Ven is there. she thinks, despite how right it feels.

And even if she was, if she's actually behind the summonings she wouldn't be the one in any danger. she thinks, despite how wrong it feels.

"O-of course" she says, unfurling the umbrella to cover you. And if there's hesitation in her voice, she drowns it out with further words. "I mean, I am a knight and we're kind of obligated to help those in need and, even if I wasn't, it would be pretty poor for me to leave you out here in this."

She kneels beside you, her cloak protecting knees that would otherwise be soaked in mud.

"So, tell me - what's going on? Are you heading somewhere - or what did you need help with?"

[Kalaya will take the XP, although it was a very close-run thing in the end]

Han snorts in defiant triumph. This round goes to her. She's chased off the dumb knight, and everybody else got the message. Don't mess with her. Go away. Don't bother her. Don't open your mouth unless you're you've got something useful to say. Like the server! Who had demon swords and knew where castles were and stuff. Which was weird, but that's good. That's something. She can take those swords, or maybe go to the castle, or, no, first she needs the rain to stop, what if it's already too late, she's waited long enough, she doesn't know what she's doing to her she's got to go stop it now she's going to find her she has to find her

Tea. Just a little hot. But not too hot. It forces her to sip it slowly. The way it's meant to be enjoyed. A trickle of warmth flows down her throat, carrying with it the sweet, gentle touch of flowers. There it lingers, in her belly, on her tongue, seeping into her with every fresh taste. There is a deep magic in tea. Magic enough to give even the wildest hearts pause.

Tension. A start, when hands come to rest unexpectedly on her shoulders. A moment where no one in the tea shop breathes. But only a moment. The tension can only live a moment under Giri's hands. Gently, she kneads. Always felt, never pushing. Do not be alarmed, little Han. You're okay. You're safe here. Lean back into her chest. Let your breaths become as one. Do not forget your tea; it's still perfectly warm. You're okay. You're safe here. Breathe.

Quiet. The witch takes her hand in hers. She wraps her other round her shoulders. She envelops the little flame, and Han falls back, back, further back, letting go and falling deep into Giriel's embrace. The tea shop melts away. No more prying eyes. (Everyone knows you don't look directly out of which at work. You keep her in the corner of your eye, while thinking of all the great embellishments you'll add when you tell your friends about this later.) They are alone. Nothing will disturb them now.

Words. Slow, and careful. Dredged up from the depths of a battered heart.

"Melody of Silver Bells. That's her fancy priestess name. Her hair's blue. Real blue. Maybe...from the coast? She wears it short, no longer than her shoulders. One of those short cuts that kinda curls a little? It's got a name. I don't know. Then there's the glasses. She wore big round glasses. Real glass, I think. And. Her eyes were...brown? More than brown. More different browns. Like."

Stuck. Lodged tight. Squeeze her carefully, and it works itself out.

"Gems. Gems that you can't see anything through, it's just. Deep. And. Sparkling, they sparkled a lot. Her. Eyelashes were. Long. Fluttering. Kinda... And, she paints her eyes too, with. Uh. Colors, and stuff. Dunno about the rest of her face, she always had one of those blue veils on. With the silk? Not sure what the design was, it was just all fancy embroidery and soft when..."

Questions. Hanging thick in the air. Realized for the first time.

"Uh. She gets excited about, like, everything? Taking her through a market takes hours. She wants to pick everything up. She wants to hear every story the shopkeepers want to tell her, even the real obvious scams. I don't know. Maybe she was seeing something I couldn't? She wouldn't stop trying to show me things. And. I guess, if you heard her, you think there was something special about them too. Even if you had no idea what she was talking about.”

”Didn't like crowds either. Always wanted to go around or hide behind me. Little bud. She's so small. And slender, like. I could pick her up with one hand. I don't know how she doesn't blow away with a stiff breeze. And she's.... she's...."

"She's the only priestess in the whole flower Kingdom who isn't terrible. She. Actually. She tries, dammit. Even when no one else will. But it's her first time out in the world, she hasn't got a clue what she's doing, and-"

Flood. Hold fast, Giri. Do not let it swallow her whole.

"And that. Stupid Ven. Grabbed her right out from under me. She trusted me. She asked me. To watch out for her, and now."

"And now I have to get her back."

[Han clears Afraid.]

Piripiri!

Now comes the wait. The message will have to be relayed to the Red Wolf, after all, and perhaps she will not be available immediately: after all, you have used the white lotus. What is more interesting, however, is how Azazuka watches you carry out this rite.

“You’re sending a signal, aren’t you?” She’s clever, but not sharp or clued in enough to know who. You may want to give yourself plausible deniability, to obfuscate the connection between you and the Red Wolf, the handsome face of the Dominion.

Or did you choose to do this beside her on purpose? Were you, perhaps, whether you knew or not, intending to show off a little? Certainly she seems more interested, leaning closer; is it not enough for you to be a duelist and a merchant, but also a daughter of dragons, a worker of little miracles?

How exciting you must be, heroine! How better to win a girl’s heart?

Oh, perhaps you will argue: I needed to make sure she is not in trouble. Or perhaps you will say: it is not right for the weak to fend for themselves. Maybe even: she is my gift to the Red Wolf, and I do not want to misplace her.

But she is looking at you, daughter of Hymair, and perhaps you do not recognize the danger that you are in: the danger of being entirely too winning for your own good. For when has Azazuka ever seen a thing and been denied it, save for that which was deemed too dangerous for her? And how could she ever think of you, her savior, as dangerous?

***

Giriel!

The leaves resolve, for a moment, into the form of a high tower, caught as it crumbles. Disaster. Ruin. Woe. Everything about this is going to go wrong— even for Ven.

Another sign: now the tower is a banner. War. Soldiers. The Dominion, possibly— but you know that it is much more likely to be the General.

A third sign: the petals of the red dahlia mixed with the snapdragon: in its darker meaning, then. Deception, lies, betrayal. What else do you expect from the Broken King? The way the stems lie together, there in the center: cross-purposes.

Put them all together: Ven, herself, is doomed to betrayal, or means to betray. The General— ah. You remember, now. He knows Ven has a prize (the daughter of a revolutionary, some god of the Flower Kingdoms) and means to seize it, seize her, whether Ven offers or no. Perhaps Ven knows and means to betray her Hellish master over the matter of a simple priestess, but it is more likely that Ven simply hopes to keep the priestess away from Hell for her own reasons— and will not succeed.

If you do not save Melody of Silver Bells, Melody will find herself one way or another trapped beneath that sea of war’s flotsam and jetsam to suffer. But Ven does not want to give Melody up, does not intend for Melody’s veil to join that twisted blue rope wrung between the General’s fingers. That might save her from the worst of Han’s fury, then.

"Oh, those very good questions," she said. "What's going on? What am I doing? Some part of me was hoping you'd know."

She smiles as she comes in out of the rain, and it feels like her melancholy... well, it doesn't ebb, but it slides out of focus. There's a different voice here, a new kind of energy that shines even through the rain.

"My name is 枫叶诗 - Fengye Shi - that translates roughly to Maple Leaf Poem? It is an honour to meet you, Flower Knight, and to be rescued by you. But I can tell that you're troubled by something far distant from my humble problems. If it would help repay your kindness, I can at least offer to listen to your tale? While you tell it I can build a fire and warm you a little food and wine while we wait for the rain to clear."

"Melody of Silver Bells" the way Giri says it, it sounds melodious, doesn't it? Like she's chanting. She's looking down with some pride at her little Han. She's not fool enough to say something like you must really like her or she means a lot to you, doesn't she but she's thinking it and it makes her happy. Happy to see the children she remembers minding up in the mountains caring about someone, and maybe even something a little more than that.

Instead she says "you do, Han. And you won't be alone." Her arm around your shoulders is thick and strong, but also soft, gentle, a source of comfort. "Yes, that was great information, Han, more than enough for a perfect divination! Look here, see these leaves, they formed into the shape of the tower and then crumbled into a waving banner, and with them the red dahlia and the snapdragon. A truly lovely blend of tea for its clear signs and its taste both."

There's still that note of concern in her voice, but this is her element and you can feel Giri's own comfort in her specialty, in being good at something that will help. That's a really nice thing, isn't it, to be able to help with something and do it well. "What it means is that Ven has your little priestess, perhaps up in that tower of hers. And she's at the center of many things. There is a...demon, a general of armies that will want her, this Melody of Silver Bells. She's ah...

Giri stops. Han had called her a priestess several times now, did she know that Melody was most likely the daughter of a god? Would that change things? She ought to tell Han at least. "ah...she's perhaps more important than you realize. I think, I can't tell exactly from the divination but she may be the daughter of a god or goddess, something beyond your typical priestess. Perhaps that's why she's so much less terrible than her compatriots." Giri smiles and her hands are firm and reassuring. Be calm, take this in, there will be time to think it through she says without speaking the words.

"It may reassure you that from the signs, this Ven who took her is torn herself. I don't think she wants to give Melody to the demons, but she does want her for something, perhaps leverage over whatever god she's related to? It won't end well though, the servants of hell will try to betray one another and however it turns out this little priestess will be stuck in the middle. Now..." her hand is just a little more firm for a moment because she knows, Han, that you're about to jump up and try to rush off. "...let's take this carefully. We're all going to help. Whatever demons are wanting, we don't want them getting their hands on it, doubly so if it's a shy little lady. So, let's get our things together and find the other knights, we've got three here, miracle of miracles. And that waitress, wherever she got off to, there's more happening there for a certainty. And then we'll all go together and we'll get her out of Ven's clutches and any demons who have a mind to get in your way, eh Han?"

"Yes, it's a signal. We're still in Ven's reach hypothetically, I'm trying to get you further away and safer while she's distracted." She turns to Azazuka, keeping an eye on the bowl. "So. First. And I haven't gone over this from this side before, so please pardon any slips. We talked briefly about learning how to do, ah, what I do. And I want to expand on what that means. My job usually means I have to do dirty, unpleasant, and spiritually unclean things. I get hurt regularly. There is always the possibility that I will die somewhere like that castle and nobody will know or care who I was. Winning looks like getting chased through a jungle by guards that want to kill you or worse. Losing means being stuck in a hole with no light while somebody else decides what to do with you."

She blinks once, deliberate. Break the idea into two.

"But. It means that you'll always have some, low chance of getting out of anything. Even if it's between certain death and near certain death, there's always that slim chance that somebody trips on a rock. The rope frayed in just the right place. So that's the upside." She sips her tea, checking to make sure nobody's paying attention. "There's one other problem. You're going to need to learn to trust me. And you're going to need to actively chose this, even when it looks like I'm doing nothing more than trying to hurt you, break you, or kill you. My sitfu threw me off a bridge once. I might do the same to you, if you want to learn what I know."

Another blink and slow, deliberate sip of tea. Mmmm. That knight ordered good stuff.

"And then there's the other danger. You're going to need to find somebody or something to hold to, some reason that you are doing this that isn't just self interest, because if you just want to learn this for yourself then you will turn into a monster." And I may have to kill you, she does not add. "Your reasons will be different from my reasons. Which is fine. But there will come a point, if you get fully trained, where you're going to learn to not trust me. Because I'll have taught you but I'm not your elder and I won't be treating you as an asset, so I'm neither controlling you nor responsible for you, and that means if there's a conflict between my ideals, what drives me to do this, and you? It's not even close."

She leans back from where she'd been focused intensely on Azazuka. "So if you want to not have to deal with the many, many downsides of what I can teach, I have no objections. I'm getting you to safety either way. But I want you to know what you're getting into, before you commit."

Maple Leaf Poem!

"Well, I haven't really 'rescued' you yet" replies Kalaya, glancing around at the rain and mud. "I mean, I've literally only helped you walk from that patch of mud to this rock - so unless you were drowning while sitting there ..."

She stares into her hands.

"It's nice to meet you too, Fengye. My name is Kalaya Na and it means ... well, that doesn't really matter right now. What's important is that we get you warm before you catch your death out here." she continues, searching the alcove for some usable tinder.

"As for my story, well - it's easy to say that today has been very long already. It started out with a Rakshasa infiltrating and corrupting my tourney, moved on to fighting an aggressive Highlander and then took a sharp turn towards being far far worse." she says, laughing mirthlessly. "Now, I've got to head to a castle that is under the control of a demon-summoning ex-princess who apparently also kidnaps priestesses and who is ..."

She cuts off with a soft exhale. The release of tension before it can build further.

"I don't really feel like talking about it." she finishes, frowning.

"I'm sorry, I know this is rude, abrupt and all. And if you had found me on a good day then I'd have been happy to talk for as long as you'd like and help you back down the mountain after the weather clears. But today is not a good day. Today is .. you might say that it's one of the worst in my life."

"I don't want to wait here until the rain stops. I want to keep moving. But I'm also honour bound to help someone genuinely in need."

She flashes her gaze up to yours. Watching intently.

"So, you see my predicament."

[Roll to Figure out a person and spending a string. 6 + 3 -2 + 3 = 10 - A question for Fengye: What do you hope to get from this conversation?]

Days of nothing but tramping through the mud and rain. Long nights spent staring at the sky and waiting for it to brighten. Moments of flaring terror whenever imagination broke through her concentration and whispered terrible possibility in her ear. Fuel. All of it. Tossed into the furnace of her heart, stoking the flames and bringing her back to life. At last, she has an answer. She knows something. Melody is alive and well and rescueable and every muscle vibrates with coiled energy and now’s the time for leaping and racing off to go get her!

Or, it would be, if there wasn't a comforting arm wrapped around her and a voice telling her nice things in a warm, familiar tone. Somehow, she just. Can’t quite. Work up momentum. Mrgh.

So she sits. So she quietly burns.

(And burn she does, Giriel. As you read the perilous fate that's befallen her poor Melody, she never broke with your breathing. She kept the pace, even as her chest swelled to take in larger gulps of air. The fire deep within her rose higher and higher until you could feel it on your arms; a prickling heat that only grew with each passing minute. Until you stopped. Until you held her tight. The earth rumbles and steams, but it does not erupt. Not yet.)

"Yeah we are." Grin, snort, and is that a puff of steam? "Nobody's going to lay a finger on her. Not if they don't want it bitten off." In addition to any bitings already owed to the terrible Ven, who definitely had it coming. "But, huh. Really? A goddess? So priestesses can't all walk on water? Damn. I was gonna give sis an earful over that one..." She still could, though. It's not like she warned her that goddesses sometimes signed up to be priestesses. Who forgets to mention a thing like that?! "Still..."

(She sighs. Lava roils.)

“Gonna be a pain running with...ugh, knights. Sure would be a lot quicker if I went and kicked the crap out of Ven and those demons by myself."

How does that sound to you, Giri, when your little Han speaks it like she was telling you “if you go outside, you'll get wet?” Hard facts, without enough room for braggadocio to play. (Though if you give her a minute, maybe she'll have some more boasting lined up too. Just as soon as she puzzles out the the possibly literal punchline between Ven and Ven-geance.)

Asking what Fengye wants is an exercise in chaos. This is a heart at war with itself and exhausted from the battle. She wants to go home. She wants to have a warm meal. She wants you to smile at her like a character in a storybook. She wants her legs to work. She wants to be strong. She wants everything, and wants it all so badly that you can never quite be clear what are raindrops on her face and what are tears of desperate, craving frustration for something, anything, everything. And her hand keeps being drawn back to something hidden beneath her robe.

But what she hopes to get from you? From this conversation? Not a damn thing. All that feral craving beneath the surface remains beneath the surface, and as a flick of firedust from her fingers ignites a fire, all you see in those eyes is a humble concern for you. Whatever her desires, she has no expectations they'd ever be fulfilled. Instead, she wants to help and does not know how.

And so, in place of knowledge, she cooks. Dried rice noodles, a generous scattering of a rich and orange chili powder, cubes of rich white tofu and radish. A rich scent arises from the boiling pot she tends as she listens to you talk.

"You'll catch a fever if you go out in that," she said. "And this is mountainous territory. The ground will be unstable and rocks will be dislodged by mudslides. Trees fall in storms like this, and snakes will be driven out of their burrows by the rain. I'm not saying you don't have the courage to handle the danger, but slogging your way through ankle deep mud in full armour for hours won't leave you in fighting shape when you arrive at the demon castle."

She looked up at you, brown-black eyes reflecting the fire. "I'll be fine from here. Don't let honour stop you. Only practicality. When was the last time you ate?"

Kalaya had held that brown-black gaze for a heartbeat, feeling the manic energy in her subside. It wasn't gone - but like water that had cooled just below the boil, the roiling, bubbling surface that threatened to spill over was beginning to still. To be contained.

She drops her gaze back to the fire, giving it a half-hearted prod with a stick.

"It's not just about honour." she replies, and is she pouting or just tiredly petulant? "Leaving you out here just ... wouldn't be the right thing to do."

"And as for food? I ..." she continues, thinking back over however many hours that day had been. "Breakfast probably, unless you count a cup of tea around lunchtime."

A half-remembered image of shaking hands placing a cup back on a table prompts the realisation that she never actually got to drink it in the end.

Darn, it had been a good blend too.

Accepting the food with a genuine "Thank you", she eats in silence - enjoying the warmth, the flavour of the spices and texture of the tofu while allowing her mind to wander. It's not a full balm on the troubles that ail her, but it's a start and the effort is appreciated.

"So." she begins, after a suitable amount of time has passed. "I can get not wanting to talk about certain things -"

She gives an acknowledging nod to whatever it is you're poking under that cloak. Giving you the same courtesy she'd extended to Ven just a short while ago. After all, if people don't want to talk about things then Kalaya is not the kind to press the issue.

That said, what is with people and fidgeting with hidden stuff under their cloaks lately?

"But is there anything you can tell me about what you were doing before I came along? What happened to you? Where are you going? Do you have a hometown, a family?"

"I'm not wanting to pry this out of you, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about why a scribe is out here in the middle of nowhere - particularly when long distance walking seems to be out of the question - I'm just trying to figure out what to do next.

"Were you headed to Turtlehead? Are you from there? (Didn't think they had much cause for scribes) Or do you also have business at Kingeater?"

She says the last with a laugh because she thinks she has a good read on you, but with how her day has been nothing is out of the realm of possibility. Also, is it rude to just address your disability like that? Will you call her out on it or is the frankness appreciated?

"Orrrr, I dunno. We can just keep sitting here and talk about the weather. That's good too. I mean, hey - what about that rain? It sure is ... wet?" she finishes, gesturing around with her bowl.

[Feel I should prompt Fengye here to either try to Read Kalaya or to go ahead with an emotional support roll]

Customers of the Blue Snapper Inn!

Jumpscare!

That’s what it’s like to glance over at the door, with its cool, soft lanternlight, and see the shadow of Uusha filling it completely. She is bigger than the door, and her horns would catch if she did anything other than turning her head to enter. Her long limbs are wreathed in thorns, her silence is so vast it seeps into the common room, and the water pooling at her boots makes her seem like an animal that does not care if it gets wet.

Then she lifts her claws, unlatches her skull-helm, and lifts it from her head. It is tucked under one arm as she ducks inside, and for the first time, Han, you have the opportunity to see the face of the notorious Stag Knight.

Her silver-and-brown hair, cut boyishly jagged, is plastered to her forehead. Her cheeks are gaunt and her chin is strong, and her appraising gaze makes the whole room seem smaller. She’s handsome in the way that a mountain wolf is handsome, and just as dangerous.

“The spirit got away,” she rasps, without taking a seat. “What have you found here, witch?” No judgment there; she just needs to know if you have something worth her time, in more ways than one.

Piripiri, you recognize the arrival (peeking out from the back along with Azazuka). This is Uusha, one of the most dangerous potential threats to the Red Wolf. If you can find some way to sabotage her standing or goals, you should— not just because you’ll get praise from the Red Wolf, but because it will make the Dominion’s conquest of the Flower Kingdoms safer for everyone.

If Uusha decides to fight a long and losing war against the Dominion, as she is psychologically likely to do, then everyone loses: there will be wasteful expenditure of supplies, time and lives putting her down.

Also, she’s Big and Strong and Has A Voice Like A Grindstone and Is Old Enough To Be A Cool Aunt, for the record. Just in case anyone’s paying attention to that.

"I promise I'm not trying to be mysterious," said Fengye. "I've got a hometown in Bluespray - little fishing village way up north. Went south for the university, studied administration, the Immaculate Texts. But... hmm," she chewed the thought over in her mouth a bit. "It's embarrassing, and a bit illegal. Probably a bit below your pay grade though, so... hmm, let's just say I was messing around with magic a little bit."

She seems genuinely ashamed of it. The Immaculate Texts are the philosophical underpinning of the Dominion and they are extremely clear on who should and shouldn't be interacting with magic. Whatever she's done, she regards it as a moral and religious failing on her part - and one that could see her expelled, punished, and end her career before it starts.

"So yeah," she said. "Today isn't the greatest for me either. But from what you've told me, your bad day has been bad stuff happening to you rather than stuff you've done wrong, right?"

Her hands scatter some tea leaves into two small cups. A northeastern blend, the dry spice tang of the mountains and the Lap. She murmurs a few words as it steeps, using the Immaculate chant to help her keep time for the proper moment to drink.

"When the Water Dragon gained wisdom of the world, she shaped herself to fit it/
and by beating drops and crashing waves, smoothed away it's jagged edges."

[Emotional Support: 7]