[color=757163][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/K3PY3Dm.png[/img] [img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjk2LjBjNjI0OS5SV3hrWlhJbmN5QkZiV0p5WVdObElDMGdVR0Z5ZENCVWQyOC4w/italianno.regular.webp[/img] [/center] [hr][hr] [center][color=74DF00]"Have you ever heard of the Elder's Embrace?"[/color][/center] Deafened by the gunshot that pierced her lung, Zarina heard the words of Sultan Osman the Prudent within the fog of tinnitus and the wet wheezes. She fell to one knee, right before the viceroy she had taken a hit for, and let her head slump down. Her armor had failed her and now it felt unbelievably heavy. And cold, too cold. Was she dying? How was there so much blood already? Normally, she would be healing … [center][color=gold]"It is a parasite."[/color][/center] That’s right, she had risked her life for that vapid creature, Kashani, while he let her die. Her mother’s words echoed as a crude reminder of the nature of this whole island - an exalted prize that would cost them everything. But it was her duty to preserve this man’s life. A duty with the goal to resolve the problem she had come to help fix. A duty that would deliver returns to her and her family, she was convinced. All such vain maybes and ambitions, most of which were beyond the inexperienced and bullheaded Zarina. [color=CD5C5C]"It's too late for her!"[/color] uttered the viceroy with a regretful tone, one even the semi-conscious Al-Nader saw for what it was. She was going to die for some greater picture. That was her role, she thought, as she found it impossible to even speak. A martyr to restore order. [color=pink]"Miss Al-Nader, are you okay!?"[/color] cried out lady Emel. [color=pink]"Zarina!!"[/color] [color=palevioletred]"How many more?! When there are no nobles left in all of Sipenta, and Tarlon enslaves you all, will you be satisfied then?!"[/color] cried and screamed Raffaella. No, that wasn’t the only reason she fought. Her beliefs remained the same, even when stuck within the wicked gears of politics and social woes. Lady Emel, Lady Demet, Raffaella … They were at least worthy of a chance. She was going to fight and defend her fellow Virangish, even the less worthy, from barbary. A display of resolve in the moment, a worthwhile investment if she were to survive. The wounded dragon limped away, carrying Emel the best she could and getting away from the political sophisms she could hardly stand without a hole in her chest. She collapsed a few meters away. Everything was fading and the puddle of blood under her grew rapidly. It was hard to even try to breathe. [center][color=B22222]"You will be treated more fairly than you treated us."[/color][/center] The words of the supposed head of the operation, Dani, were the last she heard before succumbing. Not dead, Tku wasn’t going to allow it, but passed out and in rough shape. She could rest, partially relieved that her mission was at least a partial success. Even if she didn’t want to die. [hr] [hider=Sultan’s Lement] [color=74DF00]"Tell me something and speak truly, for I will not judge you and I will know if you are lying."[/color] Osman took a seat beside them on the simple bench at the back of the musalah. [color=74DF00]"How much do you believe in the Gods?"[/color] Zarina sat as if it was normal for her to be here. She instinctively tapped the right side of her chest occasionally, feeling the memory of a dull pain, but otherwise all felt in its place. Ren was the first to answer the Sultan’s question. [color=E4B844]"I find that everyone wants to believe in something bigger than themselves, my Sultan. Peasants look to knights, knights look to lords and lords look to you, in hope that they escape the burden of responsibility. Pious men think that they are above the natural order, but they are not."[/color] he paused, and smiled earnestly for once at the man. [color=E4B844]"I believe in them, somewhat. But I do not admire or revere them, for that's the furthest state from understanding."[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“I'm not quite sure.”[/color] Zarina answered, eyes still on the pattern. [color=#E5E4E2]“To be perfectly honest, I think it has wavered since my departure to the South. More and more,”[/color] she furrowed her eyebrows as memories flooded in, but not everything needed to be shared. [color=#E5E4E2]“as I learn about the world and their influence on it, they feel like people. Not perfect and almighty Gods, just special and influential people.”[/color] [color=74DF00]"People who might crush us if we upset them."[/color] Osman nodded. [color=74DF00]"I met them as a young man, in the Forked Tower."[/color] He smiled so that the laugh lines about his eyes crinkled in a grandfatherly way. It fell away quickly. [color=74DF00]"They were good but, as you suppose, imperfect."[/color] He nodded sagely. [color=74DF00]"And, when all is weighed and measured, the true source of power is the ability to provide and the ability to destroy."[/color] He clasped his hands in his lap and looked over at the two youths. [color=74DF00]"That is something they hold over us."[/color] Incense continued to burn. The stained glass windows threw their multicoloured shadows across the floor. [color=74DF00]"Our faith is a tool to move people's hearts and minds, so that we might rule them and they might be the better for living in an organized society under wise leadership."[/color] He rose slowly and walked over towards one of the sticks that had gone out. [color=74DF00]"It is one of many that we possess, but it is among our strongest and one that we must wield responsibly, thinking of more than our obligation to the Gods and our own glory."[/color] A tiny wisp of flame appeared above the aged man's fingertip and he held it on the stick of incense until it smoked once more. [color=74DF00]"I ask you, now, how we might use this in our present situation."[/color] Ren was taken aback. He acknowledged that such beings might exist - but the idea that they existed and were simply people brought a smile to his face. New steps to climb. Still, he did not let it hold as he listened to his ruler speak - and he let that smile return, only this time it was far more malevolent. He did not need to think long for an idea, especially when prompted by the Sultan. This was practically an invitation to do as he wished, and he would be a fool not to take it. [color=E4B844]"When I examined Palapar, the 'people' there did not enjoy our attempts to save their souls. In fact, it was one of the primary reasons for their tantrums."[/color] he paused, and looked at the Sultan, gauging the reaction. [color=E4B844]"The good people of Darhanna take their faith very seriously. If this were to be threatened by a roaming band of rebels, it would become our neighbours problem, not just ours. A volunteer army of the most fervent believers would be more than enough to crush the revolt, wouldn't you say?"[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“He's right.”[/color] decided Zarina, her attention veering back to the two powerful men. [color=#E5E4E2]“If we want this done fast and without spreading ourselves thin, an army cheaply made from ardent believers is the way.”[/color] a gut wrenching admission, but a pragmatic one she believed. [color=#E5E4E2]“However, Palapar isn't some holy land. It's where we get our coffee. Far too material and remote to fan even an ember of passion.”[/color] she sit down on her mat, giving her knees some rest and crossed her legs. She pondered. [color=#E5E4E2]“The rebels need to make a serious and blasphemous mistake-”[/color] and then it hit her. [color=#E5E4E2]“Or ... We make that mistake happen.”[/color] [color=74DF00]"This is, sadly, the reality of our world,"[/color] Osman the Prudent remarked. [color=74DF00]"People can love. They will remember and respond to your generosity."[/color] he stood in profile, lighting a second incense. [color=74DF00]"But they remember the negative far better."[/color] He pivoted on the spot, studying them with ancient and calculating eyes. [color=74DF00]"Ensure it comes from elsewhere and not yourself and, if the latter in unavoidable, ensure that there are none who will speak of it."[/color] [color=74DF00]"When people use religion for the Gods or for themselves, its benefit is lost."[/color] He shook his head. [color=74DF00]"It should ever be put to use to help the people rule and control themselves."[/color] For a moment, he appeared simply an old man, but one would've been a fool at this point to see only that much. [color=74DF00]"There is one in Palapar who makes this mistake. One who resides in our most sacred place there. Do you know of whom I speak, that we might strike down two wolves with one arrow?"[/color] Stone faced and with a nonchalant voice, Zarina gave her answer. [color=#E5E4E2]“The Imam of the Bluestar Idasque.”[/color] she did not know his name, but the Darhannic wonder was general culture to her people. [color=#E5E4E2]“Guilty of committing the sin of fulfilling his holy duty selflessly. A proper martyr.”[/color] she determined, still barren of emotions. [color=#E5E4E2]“We will be rallying the faithful over an egregious lie. It's ...”[/color] a trembling hand shakily rose to cover her lips, that had so far managed to utter words without turbulence. [color=#E5E4E2]“Is this our only course of action if we want to win?”[/color] For a moment, Osman regarded her, looking every one of his eighty-two years. Was there a flash of regret on his face at a final bit of innocence lost, or a final bit of regard? [color=74DF00]"It may not be,"[/color] he admitted, [color=74DF00]"but nobody in that meeting that we just wasted so much of our precious hourglasses on had a better one and, in any case, I cannot think of one either."[/color] The Sultan shook his head sadly. [color=74DF00]"There is a place of rich reward in heaven for men like Imam Tikli."[/color] He bowed his head. [color=74DF00]"Among the living, however, they do only so much good before their efforts harm something larger that they cannot see."[/color] He clasped his hands at the small of his back and the regret left his voice. [color=74DF00]"He will serve that greater purpose one last time, however, though he does not know it, and he will serve it well. The purpose of all things, ultimately, is to be used, whether they use themselves or are used by others, so let us use him for something good."[/color] Ren nodded toward Osman, feeling a sense of kinship with the man and his philosophy. All things did indeed exist to be used, and very few understood that policy. He'd met Imam Tikli before, and he figured that this was a far kinder fate than the man deserved. [color=E4B844]"I stand in agreement with the Sultan."[/color] he spoke enthusiastically, rising from his position of prayer and outstretching his hands towards the multiple colorful streams of light. [color=E4B844]"To die a martyr is a blessing, and a most merciful fate you would bestow upon him. His name would live forever in song and in the hearts of our people."[/color] He took a deep breath in and was truly thankful. Osman the Prudent ever lived up to his reputation, even at his old age. This girl, however, was soft. She'd spent far too long at the school. [color=E4B844]"Is there a problem?[/color] he asked calmly, walking closer to her. She stood a few inches taller, but not enough to crane his neck. Even gazing up, he still felt above her. This was a person they were talking about. One beloved by many, and likely adored by those close to him too. Even if it wasn't the case, to rationalize sacrificing someone that had done absolutely nothing wrong in a moral or even professional sense made Zarina's stomach turn. It was too hard to hide and both men caught onto it. The realities of war, the idea of making hard decisions and the cold blooded nature of those in a position of power weren't alien to her, but to see such callous approval from her peer instigated a primal fear in her. This was all a mistake, she thought. She should have said no to her mother. Only her amber eyes turned toward Ren, her head kept still. [color=#E5E4E2]“None, except-”[/color] a brief pause. A hesitation, consideration for her position, her family's and her country's. Her heart wanted to speak, but it would be her practical mind that took precedence, bringing a hardened and unshaken voice with it. [color=#E5E4E2]“If this gets out, not only will we be damned, but the entire Darhannic world will be in revolt. Decimation wouldn't be something we could even mitigate. Is Palapar worth this gargantuan risk? Because we are risking it [b]all[/b].”[/color] Zarina was not a bad actor. She had fooled plenty in the past when needed, but she could not fool Osman the Prudent. He nodded as she spoke, but then he sat once more and bade her do the same. [color=74DF00]"My dear girl."[/color] He smiled sadly. [color=74DF00]"Do not be ashamed of your kind heart."[/color] He squeezed his knees and glanced her way. [color=74DF00]"Rather, be proud that you can yet maintain it, that you can allow yourself to feel the pain of what we must do and yet know that it is necessary."[/color] He closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them, he looked every one of his eighty-two years and, perhaps, more. [color=74DF00]"Every decision that I make is for the good of our people and, where possible, the world at large. The real world is neither a storybook nor a legend of old."[/color] He sighed. [color=74DF00]"Sometimes, one must sacrifice the few to save the many."[/color] Osman the Prudent nodded with more certainty. [color=74DF00]"Suffice to say that Imam Tikli shall be honoured, for he has acted with a pure heart, but a man who wields his worldly power cannot afford to act on conscience alone, lest he grasp at every straw until he runs out of them, lest he show softness to those who would harm us, lest he set the precedent that we give without reservation or end in a world where we cannot afford to."[/color] He laid a gentle hand on Zarina's shoulder. [color=74DF00]"He knows this and, yet, it is a duty that he will not carry out."[/color] After a moment, he removed it, and he began to rise. [color=74DF00]"Hence, from a more practical perspective, he is not a good man at all. What seems like a kindness in the small picture is often a curse in the grand scheme of things."[/color] He shook his head as he stood. [color=74DF00]"That is a lesson I have learned over more than sixty years sitting the chair that I do, so learn it from me now and save yourself much heartache in the future."[/color] He turned to Ren. [color=74DF00]"So greatly has Fashdal dreamt of a grand role for you and blessed you accordingly."[/color] He laid a brief hand on the youth's shoulder. [color=74DF00]"I know that you will do the hard things if they are necessary, but do not lose your humanity in the process. One should never relish killing or be satisfied with one act in a process. One should breathe deeply in the achievement of his goals."[/color] Their eyes met for a moment before the old man moved on, towards the curtained doorway. [color=74DF00]"I shall provide you with the resources,"[/color] he promised. [color=74DF00]"I trust that you will see to matters. The future of all that is Virang depends on it."[/color] [/hider] [hider=The Martyr] With the final words from this vivid memory that had haunted Zarina ever since she had set foot in Palapar, a new perspective was given to her. No longer was the Imam the martyr, but she was. A far less worthwhile one, would anyone rally behind her death if she had truly passed? The moment of clarity altered the very recollection she was experiencing. Ren was gone and the Sultan’s face had changed right before her eyes. He was now Imam Tilki, sat across from her and surrounded by an entourage all too familiar to her. Aira, the Tan Keoulan, her assistant Faisal that Zarina subconsciously tried to blot out of memory, the queen herself and finally … [color=734960]"Zarina, do you remember what we fought for in An Zenui?”[/color] Tku. Her very friend, here of all places. Zarina had said something, surely, but here she could not speak. It was one of those dreams where she effectively had no mouth. All she could do was stare and listen. [color=#E5E4E2][i]Don’t you dare compare them. Don’t you dare paint me as a hypocrite.[/i][/color] [color=734960]"But you can easily substitute one for another. The people of Palapar are Classa, Sazan, and Tennaxi. A handful have found a level of comfort, some work in the house but will still lose it all at one issue, and most lose their legs to circumstances. The Dowager is simply the interest of a few people. They gain immensely from owning Palapar similar to the Dowager. In the end, all are still not free."[/color] [color=#E5E4E2][i]Easily substitute?! It’s easy for you to say! Here, you have no duty. You have no family to fight for. You have no country to love! You’re an outsider who knows nothing of my people![/i][/color] No words ever came out, however. The Imam shrugged. [color=2E9AFE]"I will admit to not knowing very much of An Zenui, but I do know that people were subjugated there for the gain of others, just as they are here."[/color] He shook his head. [color=2E9AFE]"Do not the holy books say that the experiences of all contribute towards the dream?"[/color] He paused. [color=2E9AFE]"Or the nightmare."[/color] Tku gave his opinion. [color=734960]"I believe what happens here adds to a nightmare, a terrible one."[/color] [color=#E5E4E2][i]I’m fighting for the dream just as much as you. If not more.[/i][/color] [color=734960]"I wanted to visit a place after being told about it by a certain princess. I am given the ability to dream because I am blessed by many. I just wish to give others the same chance. Can you agree with that, Zarina?"[/color] [color=#E5E4E2][i]What kind of question is that?! Of course! What madman would say otherwise?! Your way, an outsider’s who knows little of my people, is not necessarily the right one![/i][/color] She was screaming internally. So many things she had wished she had said. So much anger and frustration, and yet her subconscious refused to release it, even in her own mind. Her hatred, after all, was not directed at her friend, in spite of how misguided she saw him. More had happened. Retorts on spirituality, the queen’s place in all of it, even Faiskal’s brief interjection. But all was quiet instead. Everyone just stared at Zarina. [color=#E5E4E2][i]If you’d just let me do my job …! I’ll fix everything …! Just, stop making this so. Much. Harder!![/i][/color] The pain returned to her chest and shoulder. Finally she could speak, but only to wheeze and gurgle. Nobody moved to help her - they just continued staring. [color=#E5E4E2][i]Gods it hurts …[/i][/color] She looked up. They all changed again, except for the Imam. Faiskal was Celik, bleeding continuously from his head. Emel was painting in Tku’s stead, using the blood from her abdomen as material for her work. And where the queen sat was Lady Demet, covered in splatters of blood. The Imam smiled. He was also Kashani. It was impossible to explain why. She saw both simultaneously. Both were men that were meant to die. [color=#E5E4E2][i]If both had died, the pain would be gone. If both had died, all these people would be fine. If I had just listened …[/i][/color] [i]Click, clack. Click, clack.[/i] Zarina recognized those footsteps. The pain was suddenly gone. [color=#E5E4E2][i]Raffie![/i][/color] She twisted to witness the arrival of her friend.[/hider] Zarina’s eyes fluttered open, just barely, to see wood and fabrics strewn over it. Her body felt numb but she could feel the constant bumps of the carriage she was in. It felt warm, perhaps because of all the layers of sheets she was in. She peered up slightly to see the greenery just outside the opening, over the coachman’s shoulder. There were many wooden tools hanging above her, constantly clicking and clacking as they rode through rough terrain. There was a woman by her, sitting down and looking outside too. Eventually she caught Zarina’s eyes open and her body squirming. A panicked look took her expression. [color=blue]“She’s waking! What do I do?!”[/color] The Virangish didn’t understand, it was the local tongue. But she fear and urgency didn’t require any sort of fluency or literacy. [color=green]“Get the powder! Get the powder!”[/color] Zarina groaned, the pain hitting her slowly as whatever kept her sedated was running out. Before she could actually move, however, a yellow dust was blown into her face. She coughed for a second, and then fell back into slumber. A collective and synchronized sight of relief from the two escorts led to a bit of laughter among them. Plushtail oil was later administered, just in case. [hr] [hider=The Near Future] [color=gold]“What’s weighing on your mind, Zarina?”[/color] She was back home. Finally, she was home. No more of the infernal overthinking and unfamiliar territories every single day. Just the drawing room she had sat in since she was six with the same odours and humidity. It was perfect. And yet her mother was right, there was something that brought an absent look in her eyes. Zarina took a sip from her wine and regarded Saoussen, sat opposite and the picture of relaxed. She also indulged in some vintage. [color=gold]“I take it you’ve been told something you’re not very happy with.”[/color] The mere twitch in Zarina cheek as she moved her gaze to the side for just a second was enough to prompt a nod from the matriarch. [color=gold]“In order to live as comfortably - we of Gandacar - a plethora of these uncomfortably discreet moments with our king were done. I want you to understand that it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“To let an innocent man die for a ‘maybe’? Is that normal?”[/color] inquired an irritated and confused teenager. [color=gold]“Yes. Things like that. Hard decisions. The ability to make them is what separates the worthy from the ‘worthy’. You may have merit, but …”[/color] she took a hearty drink off her glass before serving herself once more. [color=gold]“To decide how things are, and how they should be, takes both the best and the worst of us.”[/color] Saoussen spoke with experience and her daughter knew. The latter mimicked her parent’s drinking. [color=#E5E4E2]“I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want to kill an innocent man, even more so a holy one.”[/color] Saoussen shrugged. [color=gold]“Then don’t.”[/color] There was silence. The older of the two continued to enjoy her sips and even took this pause to stand and get some recently made local pastries without soliciting a servant. [color=#E5E4E2]“Then what should I do? Let it happen? It’s just as bad, mom.”[/color] Again, another shrug. [color=gold]“Don’t let it happen if you can help it, then. That sounds heroic to me.”[/color] Baffled by the answer, Zarina turned her head and regarded her mother with great scepticism. [color=#E5E4E2]“I don’t get it. If I’m not going to follow the plan, then why should I even go there?”[/color] [color=gold]“You’re focusing on a big picture you hardly even understand, despite your work. Think on a smaller, personal scale, dove.”[/color] Saoussen let her back sag against her seat, one arm around her abdomen while the other held her pastry close to her mouth. [color=#E5E4E2]“I’m not following.”[/color] [color=gold]“Big picture. Tsk tsk. You should leave that to me. So I’ll explain why - the world is rapidly changing, ours included. And with these changes comes a chance for those worthy enough to gain a voice. To get the job done.”[/color] A sonic bubble was warranted, just in case. [color=gold]“Osman’s reign is reaching its end. He may not die in the near future, but his health will warrant an heir to act as regent, a fine opportunity to train him or her. During such transitions, instability and power struggles become abundant. It is important to reach a certain proximity to the king’s garden if one wishes to exercise influence on what the world will look like.”[/color] her finger pointed right at Zarina. [color=gold]“I’ve managed to place you this far, part of it was you too, and now it is time to act.”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“So you think if I do my job in Palapar, it’d get me in good graces? What if we fail? It sounds like a total mess over there …”[/color] A third shrug from Saoussen, this one with a light grimace to emphasize her indifference. [color=gold]“The outcome of this problem will rely on more than just you. Regardless of whether you succeed or fail, what will matter is how you’ll be perceived. The men and women of Virang that reside in Palapar are remote, but they have sway. Have them see you favourably, as the mighty hero-thaumaturge you’ve always wanted to be, and they’ll want you around them. They’ll want you to shine.”[/color] Zarina swallowed, a tad overwhelmed by the notions presented to her. She was being asked to gain the eyes of important people - nobles of her nation - with the ultimate goal of recognition and acceptance. Never had it occurred to her. [color=#E5E4E2]“I’m having a hard time understanding why I should care. You’re doing just fine without sucking up and earning titles.”[/color] [color=gold]“No titles, you’re right, but I do suck up. I get things done. But I’m not a one-of-a-kind dragon. Nor am I an unmarried and pretty youth.”[/color] Both remarks seemed to stagger Zarina just as much, in spite of the extreme nature of the former. [color=gold]“Yeah, of course I know. If the Torragonese were made to know, we’d be too. It’s the main reason you were brought to the garden.”[/color] the matriarch gestured in dismissal. [color=gold]“I’m going to reiterate.”[/color] she leaned her, her voice solemn. [center][color=gold]“If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.”[/color][/center] Zarina instinctively pressed her back against her seat. No amount of power could make her feel less intimidated by her mother, a near-mirror image of herself, only a tad shorter and unmarked skin. [color=gold]“Qarim had the right idea. And now he holds the most influential position in the world. Now you too, Zarina, have this chance to actually have a say. Make a home that you’d truly want for you and everyone that matters to you. A chance to make something better than we have.”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“I don’t know i-”[/color] [color=gold]“You do. You’re scared you’ll be terrible at it. And you will without learning first.”[/color] Saoussen took the wine bottle and refilled her daughter’s glass. [color=gold]“You’ve a mother who’s done it all already. And you’ve got a network even more potent than anything in the past few generations. Do things right, and these awful decisions involving martyrdom and sacrifice may not even be necessary.”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“I don’t think I want to. Mom, sorry but I’m happy with just-”[/color] [color=gold]“Then you’d be fine with following the vision of those like Ren Baykara?”[/color] Zarina perked up and scowled. There were no words, her mother knew this was going to elicit emotion. And the youth had nothing to say, for it was an obvious truth. People like Ren were bound to reach some sort of social apotheosis if people like Zarina stood by idly. A reassuring smile was then given to Zarina. The teen reeked of indecision. [color=#E5E4E2]“What should I do, then?”[/color] [color=gold]“Do what you think is right. For you, for your home and for the people over there.”[/color] Zarina, in turn, smiled. A wry smile, but the unease had been shaved off a tad. [color=gold]“There is one thing that’s paramount, however -”[/color] a shift in tone, one charged with authority and a subtle business-like demeanour Zarina recognized immediately. It put her on edge. [color=gold]“Both the Viceroy and the Vizier cannot be butchered by the animals. That is your job.”[/color] Zarina blinked. The last part hit her with a delay. [color=#E5E4E2]“Mom, what the fuck. Why?!”[/color] [color=gold]“Not literally. But if you want to have a chance at getting the best optics AND salvage what we have, the best way to start is to be the one to deliver justice.”[/color] A sudden realization hit Zarina. [color=#E5E4E2]“... Just like Osman did when our laws were being corrupted.”[/color] Like the Elder’s Embrace, there was a parasite. In Palapar, it was the rotten core of self-indulgence. For Virang, it was Palapar, or rather what would come of it if left alone, but the true rot was what would emerge from it. Would it be Ren and his stranglehold on all beneath him, or Zarina’s reform? [color=gold]“There we go. Rather than let the slave class make a show of their resolve, our nation delivered never before seen justice.”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“Rebuild some trust and spread the reform of the mainland. This really is a big optics thing, isn’t it?”[/color] [color=gold]“Which is why a dreg like me can’t get any higher. But YOU.”[/color] she leaned over the table, her hand tapping the table all of a sudden. [color=gold]“You, Zarina, are something they can’t ignore or relegate to hidden privileges. Show them your worth. Both in power and as a person.”[/color] Zarina exhaled, eyes in the vintage again. She saw her reflection, a still innocent if increasingly experienced young woman. One day, likely soon, those hopeful eyes would likely never be the same again. [color=#E5E4E2]“I’ll try.”[/color] [color=gold]“I know you will, dove.”[/color] Zarina prepared to stand. She needed air. [color=gold]“Ah, before you go-”[/color] Her lips flapped but all Zarina could hear was- [i]Ting-ting-ting-ting.[/i][/hider] [i]Ting-ting-ting-ting.[/i] Zarina awoke, eyes up to a wooden ceiling. No handing tools or bumps in the road. Mostly just humidity, enough to feel like she was underwater. There was a glassless window by her, shining bright with midday light, perhaps skewing more to the morning. The bed she was in was made of treated leaves, though the pillow was a finer quality - perhaps imported from a bigger city. The sheets were similar, though clearly older than both the leaves and the cushion. She was in a hut, the door left wide open to let the air current flow and the space was wide enough to accommodate the bed and then half a metre more. Overall decent for an area that still had dirt for flooring. Her clothes were of acceptable quality, though clearly made for a man. Colourful, though. As Zarina tried to sit up, she winced. There were bandages over her shoulder and around her chest. The wound had partially healed, but was purposefully left untreated. Additionally, she could feel the familiar sensation of plushtail coursing through her. Though if it wasn’t enough, the bottle by her bed made it clear they intended for her to keep up the regiment. As she peered out the window it became evident why. [i]Ting-ting-ting-ting.[/i] Woes of wildbloods aside, she twisted to look out the door where the metallic noise was coming from. Her eyes met with a young boy’s, around ten and clearly a local. His were wide while Zaz’s remained groggy and half-lidded. [abbr=She is awake!][color=orange]“Gising na siya!”[/color][/abbr] Zarina stood barefoot, slow as she found her balance and tried to walk. It wasn’t easy. The young boy remained by the door, watching her with fascination. [abbr=She looks drunk and so tall!][color=orange]“Mukha siyang lasing at sobrang tangkad!”[/color][/abbr] [color=#E5E4E2]“Totally agree, little man.”[/color] [color=orange]“Haha, machete lady!”[/color] [color=#E5E4E2]“Eh?”[/color][/color]