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Chiyoe no Kurushime, "Tormented Thousand Generations", held her red parasol above her head, the sun filtering through it fiercely, as if a leering old man who wished to caress her pale skin. How she dislike the sun. It was too fierce, too bright and far too persistent for her tastes. It made love to the earth with such unyielding passion that it could burn and scorch it's lover. How unseemly, to say the very least.

The Hakumei caravan traveled along slowly and it was very interesting to watch the scenery go by, but quite uncomfortable for her small and delicate frame. In the master's manor (her mother's master that is, for no one would ever be [i]her[/i] master) everything had been kept shaded, pleasant, sweet-smelling, and comfortable. A wonderful tactic on their part to try and soften her past the point of ever wanting to leave such a gilded cage.

A tactic that hadn't ever a chance of working, however. She was far too strong willed for a woman, as men always said. But perhaps that was in her nature. She very well didn't like being dictated too. Or perhaps this was all just the restless energies of youth. She was only forty-seven after all, a mere youngling to other oni and yokai kind. But traveling with a warrior party full of strangers she had only glanced to dangers unknown was hardly the folly of youth. At least for a woman, anyway.

The pig farm in the central lands of Raiden had been the most interesting thing she had seen yet, to be sure. It had smelt awful and looked even worse. Chiyoe had quite enjoyed it. The complete opposite of manor life. A sign that she was heading down the right path for sure. Kotori Raiden, co-leader of the Hakumei squad, had been everything Chiyoe had been taught not to be: tomboyish, direct, awkward, and informal. Simply wonderful. There was yet another great sign of fortune in her choice.

The 8-foot horned oni however had been curious. She hadn't much opportunity to view other oni who displayed their birthrights so physically. Her grandmother had often told her of their Iso Onna cousins, who had only the faces of women with bodies of serpents. Hari Onago, cousins as well, were not dissimilar to her fellow Nure Onago kin. With the appearance of beautiful young women, their hair was often left down and rather disheveled. Upon closer look, however, the tip of each of their hairs fitted with a needle-like barbed hook, that moved about at her will. 

However, with only tales and paintings to go on, Chiyoe never could imagine the colorful appearances of her traveling companions. Or their intriguing customs, as so shown to example with war song of Gaignun that left a ringing in her ears even after they set out on their long hard journey. But she did so admire his reptilian steed. A warrior such as that might just gain her undying loyalty. It was good that both leaders of their little band had enough admirable qualities to gain respect in such a short time.

But after all the wondrous fun of the morning, the ride had grown rather tiresome upon her hind-end. But at least she was on the supplies chart. Riding sideways on a horse would have been far more uncomfortable. 

The doll of an oni sat up high, where she could see all on top of the supplies chart roof, looking about with an entertained smile. Though her rouged red lips were often in a small smile. And her large eyes were always looking about, their dark depths devouring everything could. With her silk black hair pinned and styled just so, adorned with floral pins and combs, she really was the image of a doll. Even her layered kimono, though mostly black, and red obi were made of fine quality cloth. And her little feet were primly pressed together, her back straight no matter how tired and sore she became.

But it was all borrowed wealth. Well, perhaps not 'borrowed' but close to it. Her mother's master wouldn't miss what she took after all. For the most part it should have been her family's anyway, after all the awful treatment they had been subjected to. So Chiyoe simply took her small share. And it was enough for an extra, less elegant dress, parcel for her pins and sentimental trinkets, her tea set, a biwa, and just a bit more money for any emergencies. To be prepared when going out into the unknown was important after all.

Beside the two leaders, there were others of interest, of course. The Pale One,[@Astronaut Jones] a woman who smelt like elder oni, perhaps around her mother's age, though who could really tell among oni kind? And there was also a fire-haired swordsman oni,[@ReaptheMusic] who was all but covered head to toe in ill-fitting armor. And a human male.[@Leodiensian] Chiyoe wrinkled her nose. She was not overly fond of human males. Sweet smoke drifted up from the supply caravan. And then he started to sing a most crude and vulgar song. No, she was not overly fond of human men. Especially this one. 

[color=9e0039]"If you would, please,"[/color] her voice was youthful and sweeter than spring sake drunk under a sakura tree, [color=9e0039]"I would be most appreciative if you did not smoke by our supplies."[/color] She pulled her legs beneath her, wooden geta clacking on roof of the supply cart. Chiyoe lifted up a delicate and nimble hand, her slender fingers pressed together in elegance, much like a fine dancer about to begin their show. [color=9e0039]"A fire inside with our valuables would be upsetting,"[/color] she overturned her hand, the boiling pipe's water leaving out through the resin in the form of mist. Hopefully it took the awful resin with it. [color=9e0039]"Do you not agree?"[/color] She flickered her fingers, the lock of mist coiling through the air like a snake to dance at her leisure. It was hardly what she wished to say, but it seemed the best course of action at the moment.

[color=9e0039]"And you are most ill-skilled in singing,"[/color] Chiyoe added drily, her red lips in a pressed flower smile of wry amusement.
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