Piripiri!

“…she’s a witch,” Uusha finally croaks. Her tone of voice is hard to read at first; it’s cracked, dry, thin with pain, but unbroken. “They don’t tend to ask when they’re dealing with… that. Could have been worse, even. This one witch I know, she wouldn’t have even told you, just cut your hand and let the results— wilt— speak for themselves. Was it acceptable? It got us out. That’s what matters.”

Her head lolls back. Despite the dried drool on her chin, her smile is impudent, almost patronizing. “But you don’t want to hear that. You don’t want to hear that I’d order anyone in my retinue to bleed, there, because I’d rather you be bleeding than at the mercy of them. And if you admit it was necessary, you can’t let yourself stay angry at us, and that anger feels good. Trust me. I know.”

Her shoulders stiffen; she puts the last of her strength into lifting her chin, adding a deeper growl to her voice. “But you are right that she was under my authority. So go ahead. Punish me.”

She can barely keep herself upright, but that growl… it’s a challenge, and not a mocking one. For her sake? For yours? Who’s to say?

***

Han!

It’s a weird sensation. It feels like your thoughts suddenly cut through… let’s call it smoke. And behind them, well, it’s obvious. It’s always been obvious. What does the Red Wolf want to get from Lotus?

She wants to steal her. One dragon’s child to another, you recognize this. She wants to tumble Lotus into bed, use her for fun, and then add her to a collection. Take some token of hers as a prize, proof that she had her way with the little priestess. And she wants Lotus to think she’s hot, to stay, to decide not to leave with you, for…

Well, the reasons are big and depend on something you don’t know yet. You don’t know that the Red Wolf intends to blackmail the Sapphire Mother by holding her daughter prisoner. All you know is that Cathak Agata wants to use Melody, or Lotus, or whoever this little priestess is; wants to make her squeak and squeal and make noises you can barely imagine; and then she wants to keep her, not even out of love but because she wants a trophy.

Even Machi’s better than that. At least she’s honest. If you’d gotten here a moment later, the Red Wolf would have been kissing Lotus, without permission, to try to make her head spin and her legs open, and she would have told you Lotus started it. It’s obvious. It’s achingly obvious.

Lotus inches towards you as much as she can, and both of you notice. The corridor is cramped. Painfully cramped. And hot. The heat is rolling off Agata’s skin now, in waves. But it’s still not hotter than what’s boiling inside of you.

“It’d be a shame to hide her face,” Agata says, pleasantly. She wants you to die. She wants you to keel over dead on the spot. “It’s such a… parochial custom, isn’t it?” Whatever that word means, she’s using it to make fun of you, hiding behind it like it’s a shield. “The only ones I might have to hand are from Chiaroscuro, but— well, do you think she deserves one of those?” Laying out a trap: wherever that is, she wants you to say yes so she can turn to Lotus all scandalized and tell her they’re worn by, like, dead grandmothers or something.

Because this is her ship and she wants Lotus to be hers and you interrupted her and the thing she wants is yours. Lotus picked you. Lotus picked you.

And that means you’re no longer a possible peer or a curiosity or someone for her to add to her collection. You’re a rival. The ancient dragons all killed themselves in wars, feeling this way. And her ancestor was the one that won all those wars, in the end.

Lotus’s fingers touch your pinkie, half-curl around it. “Actually, Han, I wanted to talk to you,” she squeaks. It takes literally all of her courage to do, but… not because she’s scared? She won’t look at you. She’s ashamed. “If that’s okay…?”

A frown furrows Giri's brow as she catches the shadows upon Kalaya's face, but she returns the hug with force enough to make it difficult to breathe, expressing an urgent need for a different sort of human contact than what Red Wolf was offering.

When she lets Kalaya go a moment later (hopefully with no bruised ribs) she lets out her own breath that she'd been holding and her shoulders relax just a hair. Her collar jingles with the movement and she meets Kalaya's eyes as she asks the question.

"Both? Neither?" Giri shrugs and the bells tinkle merrily again. "I was accused of wrongdoing in front of all the gathered guests and Piripiri, the girl from the teahouse who it seems was a dragon-blooded servant to Agata, showed off her injury, inflicted by me. What could I say against that truth? I consider it a fair punishment all told. And then again, this is something Agata gave me, something she put on me herself. I would be lying if I said that I did not want it, did not want her even still."

The way Giri says Agata, it's casual, you haven't heard anyone refer to her like that, none of her servants or staff, certainly not anyone trying to curry favor. You get the sense that even Giri hesitates over it a little, like she's sharing something in private with you, a stronger and truer sense of how she thinks than she would behave in a group.

There's an awkward silence then. Giri stands still so her collar doesn't ring and looks at Kalaya. Then she sighs and jingling takes the girl into another hug, softer this time. "We put too much on our shoulders, princess." This time she doesn't hesitate, it's how she remembers you Kalaya, and she's more free with it in this moment, speaking softly for just you to hear. "Neither of us ought to bear it alone, you least of all considering how much you've already lost."

[Giri rolls to comfort and support and gets a 13. If Kalaya opens up to her, they both get to pick an option. Giri will heal a condition if so.]

Piripiri's Cabin

She taps her fingers on the table, tea ignored in front of her. "My name is Piripiri, of House Seumul. I hold no title, and function as Cathak Agata's secretary and assistant. I ask on her authority." Her gaze lingers on the lone tapestry on the wall, a roadside inn in the foreground nestled among the trees of the forest, with a distant, smoking mountain in the distance. There's heart-ties emanating out from her, linking her to the Dominion through her choker, by sworn oaths of fealty. And it is the Dominion, not Agata: should another scion of the Empress show up, she'd obey them just as readily. Impersonate one, or convince one to order her to obey you, and she would.

That pales in comparison to the vivid heart-ties towards that tapestry, a gift from her family, a going-away present. Hold one of them in your power, and she'd obey. Be careful to survive her service.

She turns and meets your gaze, eyes fading from hazel into jade. "I presume that's enough to satisfy that I've the authority to ask these questions, and my interest in the answers?"

Interrogation Room One

"I see." Deep breath in, and on the exhale the room fills with the aroma of budding greenery as spring turns to summer. She scowls down at Uusha, sticking a thumb out: point one. "You'd bleed a retainer in that situation. One of your warriors, somebody who's promised to fight for you, who chose that." She jerks that thumb up to point at herself. "I was a captive."

A pointer finger joins the thumb, point two. "Han has the blood of dragons. Ven was within grabbing distance, and presumably had her own ways in and out of Hell. And we had a demon to work with. Hell, there was another witch there. Don't you think she had an exit that didn't need me to bleed?"

Third finger. "Finally. I keep my word. I said I was not going to punish or reward you for what you said. Don't try to goad me into it."

She looks aside, shaking her hand as if to cast off the fury, before turning back to her medicine chest. A clean bandage emerges, poultice freshly applied, emerges, and she presses it against the wound. "I'm angry about what happened. It was wrong. It was unnecessary. And it assumes, from the start, that the captive is insane and doesn't want to leave hell." She grabs another damp cloth and wipes her chin clean with curt, efficient movements, stepping back and leaning on the wall as she finishes, arms crossed.

Tried and failed to Figure Uusha Out. 4-2 (angry) = 2.

You think she notices the heat? Her heart screamed hot enough to melt a demon’s hands to dust. Right now, in this moment, she can hear nothing but its howling.

How dare you. How dare you?!

It’s one thing to know you’re dealing with snake. To know that nothing they say is anything close to the truth, and nothing they say will ever be so solid that you could finally rip off their veil of decency. To know that everything you’ve ever known and loved means so little to them that they would burn it all rather than deny themselves anything. In a week, they will not even remember the ashes. That’s one thing. It’s another when they do it to your face. To someone you. You…

Her heart roars so loud, that all the world might be silence. And the only thing. The only thing holding fast the floodgates of Essence, is the tiny, scared girl at her back. Standing too close to keep from being burned.

Han lets out a long, deep breath.

“We’ll have to get back to you on that.” A maelstrom held behind a thin wall of ice. She turns, away from the trap, and allows herself to be led away. “We’re busy.”

Not yours. Lotus chose her. And didn’t that bring a little smile to her face? It also brought, behind Lotus’ back, a most expressive gesture for her host. Hopefully, it wasn’t too parokeyl for the great Red Wolf to understand.

Kalaya pulls back, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. For a moment, the sun is peeking out from behind those clouds once more.

"I think I understand. We can't really control who we love, can we?" she says, chuckling ruefully.

"You know ... despite how badly everything from Turtlehead to Hell went, and it went pretty badly I'll admit, I think I gained more than I lost.

"The tourney, the fight with Ushua, even this whole mess with the Dominion and its politics?" she says, an edge of heat creeping into her voice. "What I found with me and Ven? That was worth it. It was worth everything."

[Clearing Guilty]

"So don't you go around carrying any burdens on my account." she continues, hiding glistening eyes by leaning back into the hug. "I remember what you did for my Father. And what you've done for me - both then and now. You are a good person Giri."

You can feel her head turning on your shoulder, eyes drawn towards your collar.

"You're not a curse to be warded against or a prize to be claimed .. no matter what Cathak or her servants' views may be. Just remember who you are and what you are worth is far more than that."

"And never forget - you will always have an ally in Lilly and in me."

[Rolling my own emotional support - 5 + 3 + 2 = 10 - Giri's turn to pick one and if she opens up Kalaya will clear another condition.]

"I just wish I knew what to do about it all." she continues, huffing a frustrated breath and waving a hand at her teacup. "The Dominion wants me to dance on a string for them. Ushua is wounded and likely held naked below in chains. The Rakshasa is still out there - apparently bending the Kingdoms to its needs in my name."

"All that and yet ... no matter how hard I try to entreat the gods, any gods for a sign - I get nothing. I always get nothing. I don't know if I'm doing the ritual wrong or if they just don't care."

"It won't stop me from trying though. It never has. Gods and their ways aside, I swore to help those in need. Even when everything else is silent - it's those words, the Oath of Thorns, that keeps me going. And after finding Ven again? I now have two reasons not to give up."

At this, she places a hand on your shoulder and there's something about the girl's earnestness that invigorates you. Fortifies you. Dulls your pain. It might be that she missed out on a calling as a motivational speaker.

Then again, it might be something more...

[Activating Lay on Hands. Giriel is healed of physical ailments. Giri marks an XP if she validates Kalaya's devotion(s) - Kalaya gains a string if she criticizes it.]

"Iselsi Shae, All Seeing Eye," said Zhaojun without stopping to consider the consequences.

This was a big lie to embark upon. To claim to be a member of the Dominion's secret service based on no evidence whatsoever with no endgame or plan. There were lies that would keep her below suspicion but this one made her worthy of absolute attention to anyone who heard it. And she'd done it because she didn't want to play the handmaiden. Evidently, though she wouldn't dare the dragons themselves, anything short of that seemed to be fair game.

She produced a notepad and smiled sweetly, feathered quill hovering above the paper.

"I am here to investigate Cathak Agata," she said, "in order to form an assessment of how she is performing as colonial administrator. Depending on the results she may be recalled or promoted. So, Ms. Piripiri, I grant you the leave of the Scarlet Throne to speak freely, without concern for station or decorum: How do you judge the Dominion's leadership in the Flower Kingdoms?"

Piripiri!

“Don’t give me that,” Uusha says, and straightens under her own power. Her muscles are taut and trembling with the exertion. “If she’d grabbed your bound wrists and ignored your squeals, that’d be different. That would be different. But you were unbound, everything was war and chaos around you, and the witch barked out orders because that’s what witches do. She made that call because I couldn’t drag you off to fight that rotting knight. So let me cut to it.”

Her eyes are piercing. Wickedly so. Her body is as tense as a held bowstring. When she speaks, it’s with authority, as if being lectured by an older relative. “You serve the Dominion. Don’t fish for sympathy here, in this room, knowing what happens to me next. You can punish me, let me accept your anger and crush it between my teeth, or you can go and let it fester until your heart’s gone rotten with it, but I won’t pretend that you’re uniquely wronged. Unless you intend to tell me that your owner means to let me go and leave my home, it’s just a cut. Just a failure on her part, and thus mine, and that’s the only reason I’d even offer to be your whipping girl.”

Is she right? What is her likely doom, Piripiri of Hymair?

***

Han!

“I should go apologize,” Lotus says. She sits with her hands in her lap, her body like a flower at night with its petals folded in on themselves. “I can’t believe I— that I made you think— I led her on, Han!”

Emli pours tea into a steaming cup in the Ember Stateroom, where you ended up pulling Lotus (running into oh-so-helpful Emli on the way). The tea tray slides up in front of the two of you as Emli loudly does not offer any commentary on whatever you two might be talking about.

“I just thought she was being nice, and— and now she’s going to think you’re not nice just because I made her think— and I wasn’t doing it on purpose, you know that, right?”

When she looks at you, she’s trembling and so, so vulnerable. Like a flower being torn at by the wind, almost pulled from its stem. “Right?” She whispers, hands not moving from where they sit, clenched, in her lap.

Emli gives you an expressive Look that you are completely and totally unable to decipher, but it sure is saying something super loudly. What do you assume is it saying, o dragoness, o guardian of little petals?

Giri breathes out through her nose, smiling. Almost laughing. It's not that Kalaya said anything funny exactly, but she just really nailed what Giri was worried about, saw right through her in fact. So she had to feel kind of rueful about it. That yeah you got me emotion just written on her face for the world to see in this moment.

"Ha you're right." And she finishes breathing out and says it again, really meaning it. "You're right, really right. I worry so much about what people think of me, of my career of my choices, of all the things that others do and have done who share my path that forget I'm just me sometimes. But, you're absolutely right. I don't need to be anybody's curse or their prize, I get to choose for myself what's right."

[clearing Insecure]

Giri walks over to the tea set then, her stance finally a little more relaxed, her collar jingling in time with her natural movements but her attention firmly on Kalaya's tea set. "You know, I don't think the gods abandoned you at all. You called for them and they brought us together, and in a moment of quiet, in a garden even amid a Dominion ship. That's the sign of the flower kingdoms being behind us if I've ever seen it. In fact if what you just said about the Rakshasa is exactly accurate, you've set my mind quite at ease. I was still afraid it might be on the ship, under our noses, but if it's wreaking havoc out there gestures with an expansive hand then it's made a terrible mistake. Because that means we're safe, this crew is safe, and we can figure out a way to hunt it."

Giri looks back at the tea cups again. "Tea reading is one of my specialties, but the trick with divination is that the signs are everywhere. The world is full of gods and spirits, and the heavens above always look down on us. Even if oddly at times" she adds, thinking of Fengye. "So, let's take one more look, shall we?" And Giri takes Kalaya's hand then with her own larger one, bringing the girl to the table as she picks up the little teacup and flings its contents overboard, collar jingle jangling madly with the motion even after she stops. She looks up and she looks out. At the wind, the clouds, the stars, the flight of birds, the sound of her own merry tinkling and she looks for all the signs of Kalaya's fate.

[Divination: 4+3+2=9. Giri learns a truth about Kalaya's fate that Kalaya doesn't know. Kalaya also learns the truth and may clear another condition.]

Kalaya lets herself be led along by the larger woman, sitting down next to her and - well, not quite cuddling up, but at least leaning against her - shoulder to bicep. Taking solace in the small oasis of comfort amidst this dragon-infested desert.

Mirroring the witch's gaze, she stares out to the river and sky. The Flower Kingdoms - her home - is out there. But at the moment it feels alot further away.

"It's hard to remember sometimes, I guess." she replies. "After all, gods and demons walk among us. We've literally been to Hell. It's not as if our worlds are that separate. So why the silent treatment? Why only the subtle touch? I guess I just don't understand it."

She chuckles.

"I guess that's why they're the gods and we're not, right?" she says, smiling up at Giri. "But if you're right about them bringing us together ... I can live with the quiet."

[Clearing frightened]

She lets the silence fall over them, shoulders relaxing at long last as she enjoys the view. Waiting, watching. And listening.

Maybe the gods really do have her back.

And if they do, maybe this situation won't be so hard to solve after all.

[Clearing hopeless]

Interrogation Room One

She rocks back as if slapped. Stops, and holds up a finger. Give her a minute, Uusha, she's realizing how far she's stuck her foot in her mouth.

She's not being fair. None of this was fair, one of them was a prisoner who was set to be shipped to the Lamentation and the other had bruises from her liege's displeasure still on her back. But how rare the chance to be fair means one has an obligation to seize it ever the harder.

She lets out a breath, half-snort, half-chuckle. "You are correct. This isn't some unique hell that was inflicted on me. And it should not be something I focused on you. For that I apologize. It was still a wrong, but," she tosses a hand to the side, what are you to do here? "this isn't the place to address it, nor are you the one to address it with." She pauses, musing. "But I suspect, here, that you are overestimating what will happen to you. It's very similar to what would have happened to me, I suspect, had the Red Wolf not been there as we exited Hell. So, let me tell you a story, then. As redress for my lashing out."

"Let's talk about the fall of Hymair."

She's checking over Uusha for any other damage as she goes, smaller cuts and bruises getting tended to with quick, clever hands. "My country has existed for quite some time. The Eleven Houses draw their claim back to dragons' blood, and they throw daughters of dragons often enough to have merit to the claim. The genealogy, mind, draws from myth as much as record. It has been so, so long since dragons walked the world. And so the basic structure lies as such. The Houses defend the country from the ancient enemy's raids. We keep the Great-Uncle sleeping and quiet, and lead and guide. But the right to do all of this depends on that bloodline. Enough spiritual strength to be able to do all these things. And so, when the Dominion traders first showed, we were delighted, for we were not alone."

She's got more here to say, Uusha, but are you being a good listener?

Piripiri's Cabin

She looks you over, your hair, your outfit, your hands. She's watching you openly, trying to suss out any lies, and you can feel the wood of the chair arm fill with essence: is she checking your pulse through the chair? She is.

"I will, of course, need some level of collaboration for that claim."

10 on figuring out Zhaojun. How can I get you to show your hand? And what do you love most?

You try to read her pulse? You try to sense the truth through the flow of blood? You try to see her heart?

Oh, Piripiri. Desire has nothing to do with the heart.

Desire is a manic thing, fiery and wandering and intensely, viscerally cerebral. Desire is imagination. Desire is something that burns at the forelobes of the brain. Desire is something that is written in the stars themselves. Desire is sky-blue, silk-blue, the blue of eyes and destiny. Once there was a maiden and she tore her heart out for love and not for a moment did it stop her loving. Your power comes from blood, child of the dragons, the lineage from those great divine serpents, so no wonder you trust in blood. But it was not blood that made the dragons bend humanity over and give them queens.

"You do?" said Zhaojun. "One would have thought my work in the Otherworld was sufficient to mark me as a graduate of the Heptagram Imperial Academy of Sorcery, but I understand. Anyone might work Imperial Magic against a lord of the netherworld, but a piece of paper with the Domina's signature - now that's something you can trust."

You read the blood then, Piripiri. And in the blood you read faultless confidence. An arrogance so sublime and refined it is a work of beauty. Her blood speaks of power refined over the generations of dynasties, for what else could be so great? And you see, too, ambitions that would be simple were they not held at such a lofty height: To seize the reins of power that administer the world itself. High Dominion politics must be a terrible place indeed. The kind of place that makes or breaks kingdoms.

It is coincidence not worth remarking on that all the colours in the room seem blue in this strange light.

"No," she said with a pleasant patter, "either I am who I say I am, or I am not. If I am, then I am positioned to wield power and influence in the heart of Imperial politics. If I am not, then I am an enormously powerful sorceress who has decided to, rather than use her enormous magical powers, ask for your opinion about your boss. Consider which is more likely on your own time, because whichever it is, I am busy."

"So," she tapped the parchment with her quill, "Cathak Agata. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest, how would you rate her performance in the Flower Kingdoms?"

“No thanks. I already ate.”

Seriously, Emli, you didn’t have to bring up a plate of those snappy little cookies too. Yeah, yeah, glare at her all you want, she’s still gonna put the honey in Lotus’ tea herself. Give yourself a break sometime, huh?

“The hell’ve you got to apologize for?” She growls, the spoon never once clinking against the cup as she stirs. (More sweet than is proper. Not so sweet it drowns out the taste entirely. Exactly how she likes it.) “You didn’t make her do anything, bud. She came at you cause she wanted to, the bi-” She grunts, tasting fire. “-g jerk.”

Giriel and Kalaya!

As signs go, it’s rather vivid— the culmination of smaller ones, such as flowers that symbolize marriage crowding on one bank, two crows raucously cawing as they chase each other (with a songbird caught between them), and a fox trotting along with the tail of a snake poking jauntily out of its mouth and roses draped around its shoulders.

They come into view suddenly, as the current moves the vast barge along: a stag and a monitor lizard, both unusually large for their species, chewing on the leaves of a Bride’s Lily. A brightly-banded venomous snake coils around the roots of the flower, hissing angrily at each in turn.

The stag suddenly startles. It drives its hooves down on the earth with terrible force, trying to crush the snake with a panicked fury that could shatter bones. The poor plant sees the worst of it, and in between stamps, the monitor lizard grabs at the flowering lilies and yanks the tiger’s share of it out of the earth, slithering off with its prize as the stag finally brings one hoof down on the snake’s head, then charges blindly into the forest after the lizard.

Giriel, the meaning is fairly clear (aided by the expansive gestures of the minor functionary spirits who have been arranging these signs for Kalaya). It is an excellent lens through which to view the other omens: the conflict between Uusha and Cathak Agata will eventually lead to the marriage of Agata and Kalaya, likely to gather Kingdom support, whether Kalaya likes it or not. It will also lead to the death of the warlock at Uusha’s hands.

Then, before you can explain all this to Kalaya, something almost as shocking happens: the clouds part. Just for a moment, the rain relents, and your keen eyes can catch sight of a bright star on the horizon. The flickering red light of Mars suggests that this is a war-fate, decreed by the General of Heaven, favored star of the Dominion. Venus’s opinion on all you have divined is a question for further study.

Bluntly: the Rakshasa’s power to twist and change fate might be the only protection that Kalaya has from Mars’ declaration, unless she was willing to run away and join Ven in the demon city, which is extremely unlikely. Right? And the roses on the fox! Kalaya might have an ally here— Venus might be satisfied with a tragic ending to their story, but Bright Rose Aching (as a more local god, and Kalaya’s patroness) might not be.

Oh, and Giriel? Agata doesn’t know this. While you’re naturally going to blurt all this out to Kalaya, you’re going to have to decide how much from what you’ve just seen you’re going to tell her. And you don’t have much time, either— you’re arriving at Tuberhybrida tomorrow, on the hinterlands of Chrysanth, where Kalaya, Han and Lotus will all be leaving.

***

Piripiri!

Uusha’s listening, yes. But you’re running a risk here. Not a physical risk, but one of the heart: if Uusha feels that you are making excuses for your service, you will be judged. For not being her, for not fighting back, for accepting the Dominion yoke meekly. Bringing up your family’s a good way to not be hated, incidentally.

***

Emli!

This is incredibly awkward. You are vaguely aware that your mistress has a very messy love life, but you are neither judgmental or assertive enough to have opinions on that. No, mostly you’re just flustered that guests are upset and that Han is blowing it, and more pressingly, that you might end up in trouble if you don’t say something. After all, anybody could come in and find you not defending the lady’s honor!

“There must have been a misunderstanding,” you say, smoothly, trying to slip it in while navigating the dire straits of being a good girl. There we go! You didn’t interrupt them, you defended the honor of your owner, and most importantly, you offered the priestess something she can cling to that doesn’t make it anybody’s fault. Because everything is much more pleasant when nobody’s getting blamed for mutual misunderstandings!

Your eyes flicker over to Han. You really wouldn’t want to be the person who made the priestess upset. Han looks like she’d declare war on the entire Dominion if she thought the Empress was responsible for breaking her heart. It’s really cute! It’d be nice to have someone look at you like that, you know? To think you were that important. But it’d be flustering and confusing, too, so it’s more comfortable to keep that as an idle fancy.

“Yes,” Lotus says, catching the line you threw out into the water for her. “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding?” She nervously wrings her fingers as she looks to Han. Come on, Han! She needs to hear it! You can defuse this entire uncomfortable situation by letting her think it was nobody’s fault, because it’s so much easier when it’s nobody’s fault and nobody has to be blamed, and also you won’t get disciplined for fomenting insubordination, so take it, Han! Nobody will end up getting spankies if you just let it go!

But she’s not going to, is she? She’s stubborn. And despite the risk of being punished, part of you can’t help but admire it. You always fall in love a little bit with your guests, and this scrappy, passionate Flower is no exception. She’d be less herself if she did. So even while most of your thoughts are clogged up with figuring out where to divert them— baths again? The gardens? Maybe tactfully suggest that Han could escort her, no, if the mistress is aiming for Lotus then that would get you in so much trouble— your heart flutters like a bird that knows Han’s just going to keep making things messy.

Han stops stirring. Flicks the spoon dry with a violent snap of her wrist. “Wouldn’t that just be rottin’ convenient.” Her eyes flash. “Like when she tied us up - tied a priestess up - and threw us all naked in the brig. Or when she put us in chains and marched us gods only know how far through the jungle with legionnaires taking smacks at us when they got bored. Or how about this?” She yanked her robe down to the collarbone. An angry, forked welt still stood out against her skin, encircling her neck. “They see us come out of a portal to hell, only me and Uusha get shot, and the actual demons get off without a scratch?!”

Days of pampering, of spoiling, of tender, loving care had only covered up the white hot spark deep in her chest. Now, it burned, bright and free.

“Bud. C’mon. For someone who runs as tight a ship as she does, how’re there so many ‘misunderstandings?’ Why does she get off clean every time? Why do they always work out exactly how she’d want them to?” She looks Lotus square in the eye. Holds her gaze, in the awkward silence that follows.

“...well?”

(The fire in her voice falters. All that heat, and none of it directed across the table. A demand shrinks to a question.

Please, Lotus. Tell her you see what she’s saying. Tell her you don’t think she’s crazy, or paranoid, or confused, or just doesn’t get it. Don’t push her aside for a comfortable lie. Not you. Not after all you’ve been through together. Please.

Can’t you trust her over Red Wolf?)

Giri finishes relaying the meaning of the viewing (though Kayala might well have gotten the gist already, the meaning was not exactly subtle). She does smile when she's done. "All those divinings and you had the gods lining up to give you signs, you just had to look up from the teacup." She puts an arm over Kalaya's shoulders then, her collar jingling again but forgotten for the moment. "I'm sorry though. I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to be at the center of Mars' fate and yet here you stand at the center of the signs. The war goddess of the Dominion has placed you in the heart of things and you've got few options left to you. Ven even fewer. The funny thing about fates though is that reading them also changes them. Perhaps you'll do something much more random now because of this information. Or perhaps we've fixed it into being with all the gods lined up so."

Giri pauses for a moment, her arm about Kalaya as the boat swirls over the water and the rains return to their strength. "Know this, when the time comes. I place my friendship above my service. If you call me, I will come if I can. Even if I disapprove of your girlfriend's choices in magic."

As for Red Wolf, she gets the abridged version. They can hardly ignore the whole thing with all the scrying implements out and the extremely conspicuous break in the storm for no other reason. But what Red Wolf hears is much simpler. She and Uusha and Ven will all be vying, Uusha will defeat Ven, Kalaya will side with Red Wolf, and Mars has blessed the whole matter. None of that is false, and of course Red Wolf will draw her own conclusions, conclusions that she almost certainly had drawn already anyway. It will please her to hear that Mars has weighed in on the matter. She doesn't need to worry about Venus, or about how the Rakshasa might influence matters, or about wedding decorations just yet. Those are personal details for the recipient of the signs.

Piripiri ponders for a moment, but it doesn't take long. It's been set up so every direction here ends with her gossiping: admirable, really. You've lost the cover of being nobody, Zhaojun, but your new mask is fearsome indeed.

And you certainly do know Dominion bureaucracy, given a one to ten scale is how you asked.

"Eight. All core objectives I'm aware of are being met in a timely and thorough fashion, and while I'm sure there exists people within the Dominion who could do this job better than Cathak Agata, replacing her mid-campaign would do significant harm. She came in as the savior of the Kingdoms against the previous woman in her position, and the Red Wolf persona has done wonders in shaping how the locals interpret her actions favorably."

She shifts in her chair, sipping at her tea as she waits for your next question. She's used to dealing with breathtaking ambition, and has effortlessly shifted roles: you're not her boss here, but you're above her, and she'll answer your questions to a point. Don't upset the balance of risk too far in one direction, if you don't mind, and she'll dish dirt.

Kalaya just listens with growing horror as Giriel lays out everything going on in front of them. It's one thing to have the gods ignore your prayers in your time of need - it's quite another to find out that one of the upper pantheon is directly opining on your future taking a specific path.

The pressure she'd felt back in the brig, chained to a chair and walls all around, comes rushing back. It grips deep in her chest and her fists clench tight. When Giri's arm encircles her, it finds shoulders rigid as rocks and a girl who is hunching in on herself.

"Fixed?" she says, her breath ragged. "No. Never."

"I don't agree with her choice in magic either, but I will not accept that her death is certain. That my fate is certain." she growls. "Those gods and nations can line up like daisies in a row if they want, but they will. not. stop. me."

"It should be simple. Why isn't it simple? I never asked for any of this - it should've been just me getting Ven back out of Hell. Of keeping her away from the Broken King and his ilk. Then the Kingdoms would be safe, we could ... we could just be happy."

"But no! Now I have to deal with the Dominion too? With the Gods? The ones who should be helping me stop all of this?"

Fingers tangle in her hair. Gripping tight, she slumps on the railing of the barge. Deep breaths, Kalaya. In for five, out for eight.

"I'm sorry. I'm not upset with you Giriel. I've ... well I've not been having the best of times since we parted ways in that teahouse." she drops her hands and looks up to the witch with glistening eyes. "Thank you though. Genuinely. Thank you - for telling this to me whole and unvarnished. Many wouldn't."

"You're a real friend." she says, a small smile breaking through. "One I didn't expect to find on this boat when I woke up. If you ever need me, I will also be there for you. I swear it."

Glancing out at the waters, she tries to decide on what next to do. Simply jumping from the barge is tempting - at least she'd be away from Cathak and on her way back to Ven. Or maybe hunting down the Raksasha. Its talents would certainly be a possible shield against the web that others are weaving around her.

But there was still unfinished business here.

"If you're ever able to find out what Bright Rose or Venus think of this, I'd appreciate it. I'm going to need all the help I can get if I'm to untangle a war-fate."

She steps away from the railing, hands moving to check her gear and weapons.

"For now though ... I think I need to go talk to a Stag."

Zhaojun had not the slightest fucking idea where she was going with this. The desire had been to deflect suspicion as to her escape from Hell and she'd done that. So... what did she want now? What did Iselsi Shae want?

"What are the largest problems in the region, as you see it?" she asked. "Both internal to our administration, and externally?"

She had control over the situation. And... somehow that felt like... enough? That she was in this moment safe enough to start giving a damn about someone else's wants and desires. The same thing she'd felt when massaging the dragon girl earlier. There was a strange blissful contentment in this moment that rendered a mind of clawing violence calm and attentive. She wasn't just fishing for information at this point, she was seeing Piripiri clearly and had become genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Han!

Lotus touches your neck.

Not impulsively. Not aggressively. She looks you in the eye, silently asking you the entire time if she is allowed, and the answer (to everyone’s surprise) is… yes.

Her fingers are incredibly soft. She traces the welt, and makes a soft noise of distress and pity. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, and it’s actually a question. “I can help,” she adds. She’s searching your face, looking desperately for permission, and the way she’s touching you is…

Her lips are so very red, painted in Agata’s color. You could drown in those lips. Maybe that’s why she’s supposed to hide them all the time. Because they’re so dangerous. And you can’t let yourself think about them too much, because otherwise you might get all overbearing and demanding like that wilting, rotten Cathak. She’s saying something and you’re just watching her mouth, and trying desperately not to do something about it.

Do you let her help you? You’ll clear a condition, but both she and Emli will take a String on you. Or do you do something about that tempting mouth? You’ll take two Strings on her right now if you kiss her, veil her, put a hand over her mouth, do something about the prettiest lips in the whole world, but you’ll give Emli two whole Strings on both of you.

It’s your choice, insofar as you can choose anything while drowning.

***

Giriel!

One evening, you find two prayer slips secreted inside of your nightrobe, pleas for spiritual aid from two beings even more lowly than your current station. It is your duty as a witch to provide aid where you can, both to the varied spirits of the world and to the mortals who try to live around them.

The first, written in an elegant hand, is simply: I am in love. My beloved has plucked me from the walled garden of my innocence, but I fear I am simply a novelty to her. That One ignores me, so I offer Her no prayers. Please, help me be hers.

The second, written clumsily, eschewing complex adult characters in favor of a child’s writing choice: I don’t like being little. Make me big, please. Give it back to me, please. Why did you have to make me so afraid? Why did you make me want to be ———

It is impossible to tell what the last word was meant to be, because ink has been overlayered on ink over and over again, a sodden mess that made the paper sag.

It is your duty to address these pleas. By asking for your aid, they have rendered themselves vulnerable to your judgment, both socially and spiritually. What do you make of these requests, Giriel?

***

Kalaya!

The noise is what hits you. The stamp of feet, the chime of bells, the raucous shrieking laughter. It’s like what some of your peers thought peasant festivals were like. The silk above your head is threadbare, yellowed, fringed with green light. You’ve been here before. But you were on Agata’s ship, weren’t you? Thinking through your plan to sneak in to see Uusha. And now you’re back. Back in Hell.

A figure cuts off your view. Their face is covered by a yellow veil; unlike that of a priestess, it hides her entire face from hair to chin. Beneath it, they wear a heavy, ornate collar, a gold chain leash snaking away out of sight, and rotting finery, the kind you’d find in a palace abandoned to the jungle. They place strong hands on your wrists, pin you down, loom over you. The chaos outside, just on the other side of the mouldering curtains, makes your head spin and throb.

Their voice is a crash of waves, a chorus in song, hoarsely whispered; if it was yelled, it would deafen you. And they say: Kalaya. Where are you? My snakes can’t find you, where did the knight take you? It’s impossible to tell where they are looking. Their grip is firm. The air smells like sweat and dying flowers.

You’re dreaming, aren’t you?

Did she hurt you, you idiot? I’ll kill her!

Giri smiles when she reads the prayer strips as she slips into her bunk. Ah, what do these petitioners imagine? Do they think that she'll simply say a few words, perhaps burn a prayer strip and magically everything will be better? Without even being present with the witch whose help they need? The dominion must have some quite odd ideas about magic working for this to be the norm.

But still she smiles because these are sweet petitions from people who are unhappy and after all isn't that what Giriel Bruinstead had dedicated her life to addressing? Now, granted, neither petition seemed obviously remedied by magic (where were all the people who just needed a potion to ease sore feet when you actually wanted the work, hm?). No love potion ever advertised actually worked after all, and Giri suspected that the discontent writer needed something more than her body changed by magic to address her problems.

Besides which, she had some suspicions as to the identity of her petitioners, especially the second one (on a barge like this, with the Red Wolf on the prowl, finding someone hopelessly love wasn't so much a needle in a haystack as it was hay in a haystack, which did complicate that matter).

But it was also late and the petitions were in her nightrobe after all, so discretion was being requested. More discretion than, say, walking across the prow of the deck wearing a jingly jangly collar and asking after who might, perhaps be frustrated with unrequited love and need a witch's aid. No, the thing to do here was to ask the local gods about the matter and go from there. Perhaps, if she were lucky, she might even get some insight from Venus herself. Well, some kind of lucky, when it came to the goddess of love, it was often hard to say if her attention was good luck or bad.

Well, Giri supposed she was opening by burning a prayer strip, but that didn't mean things worked how people thought they did. It just meant it was a good first step and that the gods liked incense. It smelled nice, and consisted of a clear offering, so that was hardly surprising.

Giri's bells jingle as she bobs her head and her nightrobe flutters loosely in the humid air of the river. But she focuses, and perhaps it is her calm amid these things that brings the gods to her door, calm themselves. She will smile when they arrive and offer the prayer strips and ask what news she ought to know about of these matters.

[Giri communes with the unseen, offering a string to the local gods however they may use it. She rolls a 6+2+2=10. She would like to learn the recent history of the prayer strips she found in her nightrobe and also learn something important from the gods, which can surely be merged together into a general explanation as to what's going on.]