All Aboard the Beneficence of the Hearth!

The barge has been moving uphill this entire time, and now it has finally reached its apex. For a moment, for a vertigo-inducing moment, the barge is airborne, a flying barque as might be seen in far-off Heaven. And then it plummets, and hits a downwards slope at a bone-jarring, hull-shearing pace. There is a desperate grasping for hands, for deck furnishings, for ropes, for anything that will stop a terrible and undignified fall.

The Beneficence of the Hearth comes to a final, terrible stop at the bottom of a ravine, where it will remain, in the midst of a wild inland forest. On one side, the rain will assail it; on the other, it will be assaulted by the vines and growing plants of the Flower Kingdoms, until it becomes something beautiful, sad and utterly changed.

And from here you are scattered.

---

Kalaya!

You are exhausted. Petony has dragged you off the ship and into the forest, and now her remaining squires are setting up a camp. But you can't sleep. You won't be able to sleep. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not after that. No solace, no home. Not while you're in the Flower Kingdoms.

"--were you doing?" cuts through the haze. Petony looks haggard, horrified, the rain streaking down her face. Like she's trying to figure out what happened, and keeps hitting against the fact that Uusha (not here, where did she go? you didn't--) was stabbed by a knight she'd tried to take under her wing. The way she's touching you is not particularly gentle. "Why, bud? Why would you turn on us?"

And in the way that a wounded mind will latch onto the strangest things, you happen to see a snake (an ordinary snake) hanging from a branch, and from there... where does your mind go?

---

Zhaojun!

The barge still crackles far below. What an excellent dismount! After all that work, what else could you do but to leave them wanting for more? Let them yearn for more, let them burn to discover who you are, why you have overturned their lives, and let chaos burn wild through the rice fields! Let them--

"You!"

The Maid Confined is climbing up the slope with the clumsy fervor of a furious kitten. Her serving dress is torn, her dark hair is wild, her entire front is filthy with mud, and she has a pair of knives tucked into her sash. She stares up at you, and her heart burns. "Get back here," she insists. "I'm not done! We're not done! I--"

Her heel slips in the rocky muck, and she faceplants with a wet splat. Again. But she gets back up, growling, crawling on her hands and knees to try to get to you so that she can try to challenge you (you!) to another fight. There is no need to let chance decide: if you let her catch up, you will win. Here and now? There is nothing that she could do that would allow her victory.

You took all her weapons away from her, after all.

---

Piripiri!

"They're not here," the Red Wolf growls.

She's about to explode. She's been holding it all in: for her witch, for the knights, for her image. But the fire rages and seethes inside of her, and the quieter and more strained her voice gets, the closer she comes to exploding into an inferno. Her luxuries, her pride, her position, her control over the situation: all lost, except for what she can force her troops to carry in chests as she attempts to forge her way out of the wilderness. You stand together inside the Earth Pavilion, one of four that have been erected outside of the ship. (It should be five, but there isn't time and manpower to erect a fifth.) "There's one of your girls," she says, like you're to blame for her staffing decisions, "tied up in their bedchamber. They're unaccounted for all night, and we don't know where they are, and I want them back."

She looks to you, and the essence roils just beneath her skin. "I will salvage this. I want you to find them, and I want you to extend an invitation to the Black Spur." The redout, a military camp far downriver, the most fortified position you have in the entire Flower Kingdoms. This is a dangerous escalation that she is pursuing, but it's not tactical sense that's speaking, is it?

She's been rejected. She's been bested. She's been humiliated. And having her prize slip between her fingers is the insult that she is unwilling to bear, above all others. If you fail in this, you might as well not come back at all. The only problem is that this is a nigh-impossible task; finding two travelers in the entire Flower Kingdoms, stealthily, with no clear idea of where they are heading or where they disembarked, will be incredibly difficult.

Unless, say, you had a lead tied up in their bedchamber.

---

Giriel!

You're in one of the corners of the Water Pavilion, on a hastily-relocated couch, sinking into the cushions, with a blanket draped over your shoulders. And out of the strangest possible place, you're receiving care after what you did.

The snake-demoness balances the tray on her tail, offering you snacks that were only slightly waterlogged: biscuits, dried fruit, a freshly-poured cup of tea. It's not so much that she's kind as that she's curious about why you're distraught, attempting to fulfill the duties that the Hymairean set her to, and... she's trying to be human.

She doesn't know how to do that. But she's nodding and going "mmhm" whenever it's appropriate (and sometimes when it's not), and she's staying with you, watching you intently, studying you and trying to figure out the way you're acting and how she can mimic it, but part of that is that she's the one who brought you the blanket, and she's the one offering you food, and she's studying you but she's not judging you. How could she? She's a traveler in a world that's not her own among a people that overthrew her ancestors and imprisoned them within Hell. She's not human.

But she's trying to be, and she's pretending as best as she can, and she brought you a blanket and she brought you snacks.

How does that make you feel, Bruinstead?

---

Han!

There's a point where it becomes readily apparent that neither of you has the power to break the awkward silence. She's holding onto your sleeve instead of your hand, and you could say something, but that would mean having to acknowledge how, well, possessive you were, and you might blurt something out about the kisses, and besides, she's not talking. She's staring at the river as you make your way back upriver, trying to find an inn, and the two of you walk in a deepening silence, in the rain, and you didn't include the umbrellas, really, Han, what were you thinking? The two of you will have to find a new umbrella. In fact, probably two. Why would she want to share one with you? She can't even hold your hand.

And if she clings to that sleeve, well, it's dark. She's probably trying not to stumble, too. And if she raises a hand to the veil you made for her, well, it's dark, and you can't really see what she's doing with it. And if she's screaming in her head, too, well, it's not like you can hear anything over the dragon tantrum going on inside of yours.

And that's why the first things you say to each other are when you manage to get in each other's way trying to get into the Blown Dandelion Inn are flustered apologies as you press up against each other, and catch glimpses of each other's eyes, and look away, and try to convince each other that, no, you go inside first, which eventually you decisively end by picking her up and pushing her through the door so she'll stop standing out here in the rain, and then she stammers and lifts her dress up from her ankles and makes her way deeper inside to dry off and use their facilities, and leaves you to start arranging with the innkeeper for... two rooms? Two rooms. And isn't it lucky that you've got this full purse that someone packed for you and--

"Han," your big sister says from behind you. "Now who was that I saw you with, young lady? Do mother and father know you're fraternizing with girls on your way back from the big city? Hold on, ma'am, I'll just be a minute-- Han, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Sagacious Crane, priestess of the Sapphire Mother, butts in and tries to fill up as much space at the counter as possible so that you can't do that thing where you pretend not to notice her and her big mouth, while you're in the middle of trying to pay for the two rooms, it's obviously two rooms, Crane.

Years and years of big sister training had led to the mastery of a secret technique; to take up every iota of Han’s personal space without ever actually touching her. Because of course she wouldn’t touch her dear sweet little sister. That would be wrong. That would be brutish. The sort of things the Highlanders used to do, Han.

She doesn’t budge. She forces her big, dumb sister to practically bend over backwards to advance into new territory, because she’s not giving up a single wilting inch of hers. “Oh? I’m sorry, Mom.” And years and years of little sister training had led to the mastery of a secret technique; to fit enough biting sarcasm in one word, she could sass a hole in a wall at fifty paces. “I’m still figuring out why arms are a crime, I didn’t realize the Sapphire Mother hates walking with girls now too.”

(And Sagacious Crane couldn’t have missed that either. How she took two steps into the inn and tossed off her soaked poncho with hardly a care in the world. Leaving her arms bared to the shoulder, glistening in the lantern-light, for all the world to see.

Lotus might have missed it. If she hadn’t taken a stealthy peek back towards the front desk. Or maybe several stealthy peeks. And a little bit of staring, as a treat.)

"I told you - I didn't. I haven't" replies Kalaya, tiredly, letting herself be dragged around by the other knight. Even if she could've mustered the strength to fight her off, to resist somehow, she didn't want to. Petony has a right to it after all. As a mentor, a more senior knight and just as someone who hasn't completely fucked things up.

"It wasn't me." she says, hoping that the knight might take this time to believe her.

She glances at the snake, watching its eyes reflect the firelight from the nearby camp. Is it one of Ven's? Or just an innocent observer?

"The Kingdoms are my home. I will defend it to my dying breath." she continues, every word needing effort to get past a sluggish toungue. "I will respect the weak and defend them ... I will give mercy to those who ask it I ... shall not recoil before my enemy..."

She glances up at the night sky, wishing against wish. While her hand brushes the empty scabbard by her side.

"I won't be broken by this. I won't ... I won't."

I can't be beaten this way. she thinks After all, I have a date tomorrow.

"Where are we going now?"

"Little demon," purred Zhaojun, aglow with flames. "I changed the shape of your prison but not the strength of your cage. You were always doomed. For as long as you desired to conquer the world the world would resist you. Every step you take sets you against every heart at once, and Mars was ever Venus' lesser. Struggle is futile, she said, after all."

She glides closer, illuminated by the passage of burning ruin.

"All I have done is make the truth of your situation obvious," she said. "Your weapons were useless. Your plans were doomed. Your armies treasonous. So what sword do you propose to fight me with?"

Grateful, first and foremost. Giri has a wry smile on her face. There's something about being waited on by a demon who wants to be human that feels like the last vestige of the damned. Agata is busy losing her mind, Piripiri is busy being yelled at, everyone that Giri would consider as her friends and loved ones among the barge has been scattered. So she is left with comfort from an unexpected source. And because it was not expected, it is all the more appreciated.

Had she done the right thing? The curse had leapt readily enough to Kalaya, and even Uusha could not complain that she was denied her vengeance, only had it directed. What had come over Kalaya though? Had the Rakshasa reached her at some point? When though? There was so little time for such things, everything had happened so fast, the Rakshasa couldn't have known it would turn out like this. Had there been an enchantment across the boat, was Kalaya the victim of bad luck and proximity? If so, Giri had done her a terrible wrong, though it would hardly be the first in her list.

She sighed and huddle the blanket closer to herself, her collar jingling beneath it. She, at least, had survived most of the fall unscathed, little more than some ripped clothes and cold muck on her. Small favors from...she didn't know which gods anymore. Even the spirit of Venus had been lost somewhere in the forest, poor girl.

Giri looked back up to the demon maid. Hadn't she been in a love affair of some sort? With the waitress of all people no less, if Giri had it right by those longing gazes.

Giri takes the cup of tea from the tray and before the snake demon can depart, Giri beckons her with a hand to stay. She takes a sip of the tea, blowing on it gently. "Thank you" she says. She lets that alone hang in the air for a moment, her eyes offering her sincerity. "I believe you may have petitioned my assistance on the ship, a little while ago?" Giri offers the slightest bit of extra grin, a little upturn at the corner of her mouth before she turns back to the tea again. "Well, here we are, we've stopped, all the things trying to kill us have stopped, and for the moment we have little else to do but try and recover. How can I be of assistance to you?"

She hasn't taken off her mask yet. Which is good, because she's not so sure she could keep her face calm. You won, Agata. The knights are divided and warring with each other, that's what that curse means. You got your girl toy safe and sound, and she managed to piss off both halves of the schism with the same move. Lotus and Han are in the wind, but that was the plan the entire time. There's a mystery godling who seemed to try her best to blow your plans astray, and they're still working.

All it cost you was a barge and a sideswipe to your dignity. That's it.

The only rejection that'd happened was if she seriously thought Lotus was going to fall for her, when anybody with even a single eye can see that she's head-over-heels for Han. And Agata might be shortsighted, glory-seeking, and arrogant, but she's not stupid. Not something that's likely to have happened.

So that leaves this mess, which needs to be managed carefully. She's not going to disobey, exactly. But they will be taking the scenic route to the Black Spur if she can help it, and might have to settle for "good enough" of a prison.

First, though, she's got to find the two of 'em.

*

She's washed up a touch, put some ointments on the burns, and changed: have to set the right impression here. A knock on the door, and then she goes in. "Emli? The barge ran aground: I'm glad you're safe. I'd like to untie you now, if that's okay."

What story does she tell, one wonders.

Kalaya!

“Where are we going? Rot and ruin, that’s what you want to know?” Petony runs one hand through her hair, snarling almost like a tiger. “Princess, you are going back home to your mommy and daddy. Uusha won’t kill a royal brat, especially if you get married off soon. And that will be the end of that.”

She thinks that you’ve failed. That you aren’t, or can’t be, a knight. Partly reflexive contempt, partly still caring about you; she’s not shoveling compost when she brings up the fact that Princess Kalaya Na would be safe from Uusha’s wrath. Uusha takes her oaths seriously, after all.

“Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re heading back to Lily, and it’s your choice how you head back.” Marching alongside her, or dangling from a pole carried by her squires, is the implicit threat. If you don’t want to be marched back to Lily and have your parents be told a tale of treachery and betrayal and failure, you had better either stand up to Petony or try to sneak out in the middle of the early morning.

---

Zhaojun!

Maybe it’s the rakshasa, far-off, spitefully lashing out. Maybe it’s one of their ironclad laws of time, enforced by a last flick of her tail. Maybe it’s just that a fox is a creature of betrayal, even envenomed ones.

Can you see them? The hot pink paws, burning, burning, lining up at the edge of your mask? Tilt, tilt, turn; remember how they set all those fields afire? And that’s why the goddess of these lands has all those little brown foxes.

Your mask falls into the mud, and Fengye, suddenly vulnerable, suddenly bereft of your power, is tackled by a screaming demon maid who, flailing, slaps her in the face hard enough to send her head reeling. “I’m the Sword!” Her battle cry is a pathetic little howl. “I’m the Sword!”

---

Naji’s Tale

“My mother drew me out of a dream, wriggling, trying to dig into that comforting fantasy with my teeth to avoid the reality of being born. She had need of another pair of hands with which to work her satins, thread her needles, trim her furs, bead her necklaces, polish her buckles, darn her lace, cut her linens, tan her skins, and arrange her models, and so, I.

“I am— was— a weapon in a war. I was—“ (And here she speaks a word in the First Language which conveys the sensation of being one arrow in one quiver in a vast armory, finely-pointed and well-fletched, but useless outside of its purpose: to be set to the string, to be drawn, to be loosed, to sink into flesh and hold fast there, to feel the hot life’s blood run down along your grooves; and yet to know that you are disposable for this purpose, barely cared about beyond your use, one of innumerable darts lying in wait for the War.)

“Not one of the soldiers that She— the other one— the one diminished— not one of her dolls, or her war-engines, or her shrikes. Not swords and armies. My mother made me because everything you make here is wrong, and she wants to mend it where she is able, and part of her thinks that if she does it enough, then she will be able to fix the world itself, and you will understand that you were made to be ruled by the Prelapsarians, and part of her thinks that she can never succeed, so all she can do is to impose her dreams on all of you out of spite. And because she is a thing of spite, so am I; but I spite her by wanting to have forbidden things of this world, girls and their sighs, mine to have and fashion as I like.

“But she! She! Witch, she is—!! She confuses, toys with, undoes me; she imperils me and saves me. She refuses to toss me aside now that my purpose is done, but she is not, will not be mine. Give her to me! I mean, I mean, no, that is what I mean. I want her attention, I want her heart, I want to assail her and be undone, I want to fight a war of dresses with her, I want what is perverse and I will want her until I want to not want her.

“I am afraid of this world, which hates me because it hates my mother; I am afraid of how I will want to hurt her once I have her; I am afraid of touching the bars of my cage and being scalded away into nothing. You have ghosts, you have underworlds— but those are postcedent, indecent, not meant for us. When I die I will return to my mother in one form or another; she will draw something like me out of a dream, because she has need of more hands to do her neverending work.

“How do I make her love me? Should I make her love me? If she abandons me I will be devoured by this world, or by my own mother, or by the ache in my heart for her. I am afraid. Please help me. Please help me.”

---

Piripiri!

Emli tugs against the ropes and tries her best to push herself against you, to find physical comfort, her hair disheveled, her little gasps desperate and afraid. “Pwfah,” she says, and coughs, and licks her lips, and then— “I’m so sorry, I thought— it was the strong girl, Han! I thought the Lady Lotus was having a bad dream, so I came in to ask if she needed help, and, and!!”

She rests her head on your shoulder and bursts into shuddering sobs and sniffles, as the terror of her ordeal unwinds itself.

It’s not half bad, actually. She’s trying very hard to lie to you! But that’s already been accounted for. You know that she cares about Han and Lotus, and she thinks she’s doing the best thing she can for them (and, at least a little bit, for herself). How you deal with that, well, that’s up to you.

---

Han!

“Oh, walking, is it?” Her eye drifts past you for a moment, and there is a not-quite-so-distant squeak, as of someone caught appreciating Arms. “Well, of course whatever you’re doing is none of my business, particularly if you’re spreading the joy of our Sapphire Mother, but I just think, as your sister, you can do better than, well, is she really a priestess, in a veil like that, or did you ask her to wear it…?”

That’s right. She thinks that Lotus (sweet, pretty Lotus) might be a traveling entertainer, swapping kisses and company for money! That’s why she’s getting all up in your grill: she thinks you’re wasting family money set aside for your travel expenses!

You know what you should do?

You should tell her that actually Lotus is a demigod in disguise and she picked you as her bodyguard. That would show her. How big her eyes would get! And you would have Won The Argument and would look so amazingly cool and spectacular.

You even get a shiny XP if you do that. You don’t even have to yell it, seeing as you’re both in each other’s umbrella space. Just go ahead. Tell her. What’s the harm?

She's got a clever hook-tipped knife out and is carefully, carefully cutting the ropes off Emli, rubbing the circulation back in to every limb. She lets the slave-girl exhaust all the panic, letting out soft "mmm"s and "it's okay" and "you're safe"s. Han threatening her, coerced her into telling them how to leave, tied her up and left. It's not a bad story at all and Emli's certainly terrified enough to sell it, if Piripiri would believe that Han'd do it in the first place.

But Han is a shepherdess and Emli, briefly, was flock. A dragon would not hurt what's theirs. And so, the balance. She genuinely wants to be kind to Emli. The whole plan was for Han and Lotus to leave. While it would have gone so much smoother had everything stuck to the original timetable, they're currently run aground miles away from the canal: the first plan was hosed. Further, Emli is useful, in that cold iron grip of logic, because she's fresh and innocent and so very full of love. Damage that, and you damage a tool under you. Something to avoid. And yet, she needs to know what Emli knows. A razor balance.

"Any bruises on you, dear? You seemed tied up well enough that you wouldn't have rattled about when we ran aground, but I don't know if that was before or after, well. Your terrible encounter with Han." Stars above, Emli, if you're trying to lie about this, make sure you don't flush pink up to your ears at the memory.

Kalaya sighed, staring up at the stars. Normally when she did so she was looking for a sign of some kind. This time, however, it was to help her remember all the times she's seen them from her window back in Lily.

They'd been companions back in those formative years. Something about them always drew the imagination, be it the vast open possibilities they promised, their sheer beauty and wonder or just their comforting permanence. They radiated potential, and she would often turn her face to bask in that comforting glow.

After all, that potential, that promise of being able to help make a better world, was something that she had longed for. As the fifth child, the line of succession was long enough that her parents had never even bothered with helping her learn how to actually run the Kingdom. Her brother, the firstborn, got the lionfish's share. While his younger sister got the next priority. By the time two more siblings came into the picture the plate of experiences was well and truly picked clean.

Conversely, with five younger siblings, there were more bodies available than there were worthwhile jobs for a kingdom as small as Lily. She had had the choice of supervising the barges - loaded down with fish for transportation up the river to Hyacinth, or tending the royal preserve. All fifty feet of it.

Her father was caring and loving, but ... passive. He'd rather quote scripture and philosophy to support why things should stay the same. Tradition and routines that were stubbornly implacable in the face of her requests.

Her mother was more open to her views. While she still deferred to the King, She'd been supportive when she'd found her loophole. A tradition that could support a role for her outside the Kingdom, one that promised more than just being the wife of some similarly low-ranked prince or princess.

For all that though, home was safe and caring. More than she'd had out here in a long time. For one brief moment, she considered whether it was time to return. To at least rest and recover, before heading out again. Whatever stories of failure and betrayal Petony might provide, the simple fact was that - short of locking her in the dungeons - they couldn't physically prevent her from leaving again. They could only decide how much support they gave her in that endeavor. (She may have made that very point when she left before, which had netted her some gold, armour and the sword which was probably still lodged in the decking of the Beneficence.)

But ... No. It wasn't time to go home yet.

Petony thought she had failed, but that was just her opinion. The fight with Ushua had not been her fault, it was the fault of whoever had cursed her sword. The only way she'd truly be a failure would be if she gave up now and allowed herself to head back, or be sent back, to Lily.

She turned to Petony, staring back against the Tiger knight's anger with the solidity of a mountain. With her own anger buried well under a layer of tiredness and just being done with stupid things getting in her way, she refrained from pointing out the fact that right now she couldn't sleep thanks to whatever Girel had done.

"Do you remember your life before you swore the oaths?" she asked. "What was it for you? That made you become a knight?"

"I have never seen a person more consumed by their desire" said Giriel Bruinstead. And it is at once both a judgment and a measure of blessing never before expected because she has called this demon a person and addressed her honorably, even as she is critical of her. Naji is a person. Whatever else she may be, whatever desperation she might feel, she is in the world now, denying the corrupting part of her nature in the name of love. Was this the power of Venus in the flower kingdoms? It offered such a world of ideas.

Giriel put on a formal expression. This was not a divination, but it was a pronouncement, a lesson. "I cannot give you someone else's heart. No magic in the world or out of it can do it. Not even the Rakshasa, not your mother, not the gods. You may think, perhaps, given the places you have been and the beings you know, that you could own someone, control them utterly, and play with them as you will. But that is not their heart that you have taken, only their body. You cannot make someone love you, and if you try despite the warning, you will break the both of you in the act."

Giri softens her tone, offers Naji a smile, puts an arm around her, and offers her a sip of tea. "That doesn't mean it's wrong for you to want. The ascetics say that we're supposed to purge ourselves of all desire, but I'd call them fools for rejecting everything of value (and besides, they want to better themselves, but desire is motivation even for the hypocrites!). Look, this will be hard for you, but try to be good to her." She points at Piripiri. "Try to think about what she wants and what will please her. Not as a slave! But as a friend, a confidant, a lover. You might find she wants much of what you want, and besides, people with the dragon's blood are pretty strong to endure the advances of a demonic person such as yourself. If you want her love so badly, show her that you care about her as a person. And perhaps, just perhaps, she will offer you her heart freely. The only way they can be given."

Giri shrugs. "Oh, and take a break for a minute. Drink some tea with me. They're busy yelling about the Rakshasa crashing the big barge and we're going to have at least one hunt on our hands before any of us get home. So, pace yourself a bit."

She lunges for the mask as it falls from her face. Fingers barely avoid closing around it as it clatters along the stone surface. She struggles against the girl who impacted against her, squirming and elbows, just get out of the -

Then she's seeing stars, reeling back, focus slapped out of her with legs too unstable to keep her steady. She's falling back onto the ground, focus shattered, attention finally captured.

"You -!" she starts, trying to both grab the Maid's arms and shield her own face. "What are you doing!? I know what you want! You are a slave to what you want! And you don't want this!" She fights, struggling in a failed attempt to leverage broken legs. "You want your scepter? It's on that damn boat, go and get it!"

Bright spots on frogs. Horns on demons. A little sister whipping her head and growling brimstone.

“And where the hell did you get that idea? No, no, tell me. Right now. You tell me where you get off saying that girl’s just some fake I paid to follow me. What, ‘cause her uniform’s not perfect? ‘Cause she asked me to watch her back? You got something you wanna say about her, huh? Huh?!”

These are the danger signs of nature.

“Or do you wanna take that back, Pei?”

Ignore them at your peril.

Piripiri!

Oh, Emli doesn’t blush! She’s been trained very well. Smooth as butter, flicking a stray lick of hair over her shoulder with an ever-so-slightly shaky hand. “It was before,” the northerner says, and isn’t her slight twinge of accent adorable? “I don’t know how long I spent there before, well, the crash, the plummet, the, the terror!” A technical truth, hiding the simpler one: it wasn’t much time at all. That’s the direction of the misdirect; people assume that any unaccountable length of time must have been long.

“What happened?” Now she’s pivoting, changing the subject. Except… no. Maybe? She might be sincere. She is softhearted. But you can’t be sure. “Is everyone all right? Did Lady Cathak save us?”

What did happen? Who really deserves the credit for saving lives on the barge, Pipi?

---

Kalaya!

Petony is not a woman given to much introspection. “I wanted to kick ass,” she says, pretty much immediately. “Why do you care so much?” But there might be more to it than that; something complicated underneath that she’s just not sharing with you. Not unless you use that mind of yours, think hard, and suss her out.

She doesn’t want you to, though. She doesn’t want to hear that you can’t sleep or more questions or any nonsense like that. She wants you to shut up and sit down and pretend to sleep so she doesn’t have to worry about you, and so that she doesn’t have to grapple with questions over how culpable she is for putting you in that position, and how she feels about the whole thing. She wants to be free to go steal someone’s wine and drink until it’s gone or she’s passed out. And you’re standing between her and just that, so if you’ve got a plan, it had better be a good one.

---

Giriel!

Go ahead and take a mixed beat on Comfort and Support, as if Naji had opened up. And she does. She curls up on that massive tail of hers and sips tea with all the demure elegance of a proper maid. Maybe she’ll make it in the world yet. It’s always wonderful when someone makes the world a little bit brighter by being themselves.

But then, oh, here comes the Hero, distraught and disheveled. “Giriel,” Agata says, with a smile. “Giriel, I’m so glad you’re safe.” She takes you by the hand (dregs of tea are nearly spilled) and squeezes it firmly. “You can find them, can’t you? Han and Lotus, they must have been tossed from the barge, they need our help— you can find them. I know you can.”

And you can. That’s true enough. But it will require bargaining with those things that know, the spirits of the high airs and the wild rain, and you would need to be at your best to avoid even more disaster coming down on your heads.

But just look at Agata. Does it look like that’s what she wants to hear?

---

Zhaojun!

“I will never be worthy of that scepter,” the Maid Confined hisses, bitterly, “not until I defeat you!” And she hisses, her stockings torn, her eyes wild, her mood feral.

She flips you over, has you by the wrists, knots the ruined stockings around them— this, a compression of minutes of pathetic, clawing, desperate fighting, and fumbling, and rain getting everywhere, because it’s the Flower Kingdoms, and the rain does that, and the Maid spits and fumbles with the hair flopping into her eyes.

Then she stands up and tries to roar. It’s not very good and her throat goes hoarse halfway through. “I won,” she says. “I won, I…”

She stops. You turn yourself up on your side. She looks small, frustrated, like a mortal. Then her eyes alight on you. “But you haven’t admitted I won.”

She scoops the mask up— she drops the mask in the mud, makes a keening noise, wraps her fingers up in her apron, picks the mask up again. “If you want this back,” she says, “then keep up.”

How badly do you want to keep that mask, Fengye? Because she’ll walk you until you’re both exhausted, at a snail’s pace, into the reeking jungle.

(And if you give out, exhausted, broken, unable to keep going… she’ll double back and drag you to somewhere that’s almost dry. The world does not get to defeat you.)

---

Han!

“I’m just saying, Han, that between the cats and the musicians,” she says, as if that was not one time, “you seem to attract trouble.”

Then, suddenly, a redirecting, an ambush from another angle. “But maybe I am being too harsh. If she’s this bedraggled and desperate, maybe she’d appreciate seeing a sister in the veil, hmm? I could offer the poor dear some help, maybe even come with you. Wouldn’t that be just blooming?”

And she does the sassy little head tilt of I Won And You Have To Grumble But Behave Now.

Giri blushes. It's hard not to in Agata's presence. The heat of her touch, the strength in it, yet the gentleness with which she takes up Giri's own. There are a thousand pleasures to imagine from that touch, some of which Giri has already felt. So she blushes, and she tries to swallow and finds herself wishing that there was still more tea to be had.

She has just enough mind left not to simply nod and smile. She wants to, wouldn't it be nice to simply agree with Agata, to give her exactly what she wants? But that's not right either. She manages to swallow, nods but opens her mouth to speak too, pausing briefly to blush again as her collar, of course unharmed despite her swinging from the side of the ship and the crash, lets out a a jingle reminding them both of her position.

"I can, but there may be a price. The little gods here will all be unsettled, the Rakshasa and the..." Giri makes a small hand gesture with one of her hands, reluctantly removing it from Agata's, not willing to say the word "barge" out loud just this moment after the argument she had heard from afar. "...well, at any rate, they can help, they can ride the wind and the clouds and find Han and her little girlfriend, but they may ask for quite a lot to step away from their duties in the area right now. If that's acceptable, then I'll begin a ritual right away."

A plan? Have you met Kalaya?

She's not really following a plan right now as much as just doing what her heart is telling her. It's been her modus operandi since before the teahouse after all and, right now, it's shouting out that Petony is not an enemy. It's yelling that tucking up and going home is the wrong move. The more she dwells on it, the more right it feels - she hasn't failed unless she gives up.

What happened on the barge was all kinds of bad, yes. Does she wish it went down differently? Of course. But, importantly, does she accept the blame for it? Hell and Flowers, No! - it was the fault of whoever placed that curse on her sword; the Rakshasa, Cathak ... Girel? She didn't know who exactly, but the list of suspects was short and had the key aspect of it not being her.

So the objectively right course of action was to either sneak or fight her way out - leave Petony in the dust and find a way to track down the Rakshasa on her own. If she were listening to her brain then she'd be doing something like pretending to sleep and then ducking out when their guards were down.

But her heart was saying that Petony was her mentor and her friend. Ghosting her in the middle of the night felt wrong. So here she was, unarmed, in the middle of a potentially hostile retinue, and instead of doing the smart thing she was trying to talk to her. To convince her to take her side in all this madness. It's a sign of trust, of hope, a branch extended to one of the first who saw her potential and joined her on her journey. Kalaya's solid facade cracks a little as she glances at the other woman's face, trying to puzzle out her words.

"It has to have been more than that." she replies, a hand coming up to the other woman's shoulder. Gently turning so that she'd face her.

"If it was only about knocking heads together you could've done any of a dozen other jobs; Guard, bouncer, gang member. But you didn't. You chose to be a Knight because it means something." she says, voice pitched softly, just for the two of them. "You don't have to lie to me. I've never hidden what I thought to you."

[Figure out a person - 4 + 6 - 1: 9 How can I convince you to trust me and let me go back? What are your feelings towards being a Knight?]

Oh, she wants it. Wants it because it means being something other than this.

Fengye simply cannot stand from lying on her own. She cannot walk over roots and branches on her own. She won't stop of her own will when the dream of flying is there, so close, to her empty fingers. But she will make it perhaps twenty meters before it becomes clear she must be carried.

The futility of this struggle is clarifying. She wants that power enough to do this. She wants that power because she has to do this. Around and around the circle of yearning goes. I want this so I can stop this. I can't stop because I want this. The waterwheel grinds strength in its jaws and she feeds it relentlessly. Maid, you think you struggle? Turn your gaze upon this wretched thing. Your curse is but an echo of this weakness.

She can't do it. She collapses. A fire needs fuel, no matter how brightly it would burn.

“There was only-!”

She’s too slow. Gods above and gods below, she’s too slow to stop herself. She clamps her mouth shut, and buries all further words in a muffled screech of objection. Her entire face burns, but so what? You won’t get anything more out of her, do you hear her?! You don’t know anything, Pei! You can’t know anything! And whatever you think you know, it’s wrong, and you’ll never be able to prove any of it! (And there was only the one musician, dammit!)

Hey! No! What! Wrong! Don’t you dare! Don’t you go confusing Lotus’ pretty little head with rumors and slander! You can’t! That’s, no! Not allowed!

“What? No, she doesn’t, she’s fine. She’s good. We’re just, it’s been, a time, and, shut up?” This can’t be how it ends. Why does she get to barge into her life, whenever she likes, and mess everything up? Come to think of it, what the hell was she even doing here in the first place? On that thin strand of hope, her spirit rallies. “‘Sides, don’t you have ‘important priestessly duties’ or whatever to get back to? Don’t remember any big temples in this part of the Kingdoms.”

"A rogue sorcerer placed a curse on the barge. The Red Wolf's quick action kept everyone alive, but in the confusion several of our guests may have gotten the wrong impression and have left. One hopes we are able to correct the misunderstanding and have them enjoy our hospitality once again." Is what she did not say.

Instead, she opened her mouth, and out came "It was a bloody mess, the kind we'll be unraveling for months. The knights appear to have fractured, the witch offended both sides in the process, and there's somebody new causing chaos and I don't know why. Honestly, I'm glad that Han and Lotus left before they could get mixed up in it."

In her defense, she's had a very bad night.

Giriel!

Cathak Agata’s attention is intense. Her delight drowns out anything else— questions of what the price might be, questions as to whether it is the right thing to do, questions of whether Giriel needs anything. “That’s my good girl,” she says, and holds you by the chin, and she is happy with you because you are doing what she needs you to do. And that means you are perfect, because Cathak Agata is delighted in you.

“And if they ask for too much,” she adds, suddenly, quietly, “keep in mind— isn’t it lucky we have those demons?” Naji stiffens, but does a halfway decent job hiding it. Agata didn’t give you an order. But it’s a suggestion. After all, demons are monsters from the prison of Hell, and you, Giriel, beautiful Giriel, are a person. More than that: you’re her person. Her witch who came into her life to help her, to adore her, to revere her.

If you agree with her, out loud, right now, just because you’re intoxicated by her presence, mark XP and Naji’s enmity. And if you disagree with her, out loud, right now, she will smoothly tell you that she meant the demon could protect you, silly girl. That’s all she meant. Right?

---

Kalaya!

“Being a knight means that I can knock heads together and it’s a good thing,” Petony snarls. And there it is, Kalaya. A flash of vulnerability.

Petony, the Tiger Knight, believes in her heart that she is a bad person. She’s crude and violent and needs the moral certainty that being a knight provides: that as long as she is pointed outwards at the enemies of the Flower Kingdoms and their people, she is— not a good person, but less bad. And she buries this beneath drinking and carousing and mentoring, until she almost forgets…

And then the princess she took under her wing went and stabbed one of the good guys. One of her own. Uusha, who might be scary but is still a knight. She thought you could be better than she is, and then you proved her wrong.

You want to convince her? Take a step forward. Hug her. Tell her that whatever happened, it’s not her fault. Thank her for trying. She’ll crack. She’ll start crying. She might even break out the drinks and tell you more about how her ex broke her heart by seducing the Red Wolf…

But while you do that, reveal to Petony exactly what your feelings are towards her. She’ll know, whether or not you tell her.

---

Fengye!

“Do you eat rocks?”

Her hair sticks to her muddy forehead. Her body is shaking as she drags you forward, one arm around your body, the other holding your wrist, her dainty little face right next to yours. The determination to not give up… that’s something that she kept from her old self. The General, refusing to admit the war was lost. The world swims in a film of rain and pain and exhaustion.

Eventually— very eventually— you wake up, not quite sure when you blacked out. Above you, the huge leaf of a turtleback fern. Beside you, an angry hiss of ”Gadzooks. Tarnation. Hecking hecking hecks.” The tap tap tap of rocks being hit together in a way that will never create a spark, even if the sticks she’d gathered weren’t wet. In the Flower Kingdoms, they have to use lanterns, and carefully dried tinder, and…

But you have firedust, don’t you?

”Rotten roots,” the Maid blurts out, on the verge of tears at a world that refuses to bend to her will.

---

Han!

“I am performing an important service to the Flower Kingdoms,” Sagacious Crane crows. Oh, great. Here it comes. She’s got a light in her eyes and you’re going to have to listen to what she’s got to say!!

“I am attempting to warn everyone I can about a duplicitous spirit named Zhaojun! Far from being a heavenly emissary, she is nothing more than a trickster and a disturber of the peace, and very soon, I am sure, the Sapphire Mother will have her declared anathema! She is pretending to be a lion-spirit, dressed in blue, with a brace of terrible firewands! She might speak the tongue of Heaven, but she is a deceiver and a scoundrel, even worse than you! Far, far worse! In fact, I would go so far as to say she’s even worse than the Vermillion Beast!!”

From the exhausted rumble around the inn’s common area, it sounds like she has already given a speech about this. At length.

“But helping one of my sisters takes priority,” she continues, tossing it in your face that she’d rank a fellow priestess over you in terms of who counts as a sister. “Now get out of my way and let me see her, Han!”

She doesn’t touch you, but she’s going to push her way past you if you don’t do something about that, and she will go find Lotus and badger her into being roommates, where she will put her under terrible dreadful big sister scrutiny, with two possible outcomes…

Either she’ll decide that Lotus is a fraud who needs to be punished, or she will tell Lotus all the embarrassing stories!

How do you stop her? Do you stop her? Can you stop her?

---

Piripiri!

Emli touches the back of your hand. “That sounds dreadful,” she says in her Service Voice. Her touch is unfairly soft. And she’s looking at you with that same attention that she gives all the guests that she falls a little bit in love with, and, well…

You know, you could let her just turn this around. Let her guide your head into her lap so she can brush her fingers through your hair. She’s so good at listening.

(So good, in fact, that it would count as an Emotional Support. And there’s no downside to breaking this Commandment, save what’s in your own heart.)

And the worst part of it is that she’s only capable of being so devious. Seducing you into being distracted is beyond her. There are slaves on board who would be capable of it, but Emli is simply, earnestly, just devoted to making sure that everyone around her who is hurting… hurts less.

Is that enough to make you make a mistake, Piripiri? Is everything you have been through too much weight for you to carry when she offers to let yourself unburden yourself? If not, please make a dramatic exit of some sort.

There's no question, no hesitation. Kalaya is up and hugging the older knight as soon as the impulse registers. The words follow soon after, that it wasn't her fault - neither Kalaya's nor Petony's - for what happened. That, despite how things played out, she was thankful - thankful for Petony's rescue, for her being there, for her caring.

And thankful that this woman, this wonderful woman, believed in her.

She'd been the first, you know? On that fateful day Kalaya wondered into an otherwise immaterial inn. Petony hadn't just taken her under her wing that evening. She'd shown Kalaya that maybe yes, she could make it out in the world. She wasn't just some obscure joke. She could make a difference. Together they'd saved that farmstead and forged a bond in steel and mud.

The bond has grown through Turtlehead and deeper again when she saw her on the barge. It's a bond of trust, of shared interest and support. Where you want to be able to share a drink and spill out all the problems you face, without judgement. The kind where you want to find the person to share whatever has just happened to you - both good and bad. The kind that Kalaya will walk through any number of demons and fires to preserve. It's a bond of friendship, a bond of common interests and of love.

Yes. Love.

Not the kind that Kalaya and Ven share, but the kind that Kalaya would otherwise only find within Lilly. Whatever else happens next, Petony - this woman considers you her Sister. Sister of battle, Sister of blade, Sister of knighthood.

Family.