Little bud...you’ve had a hell of a day out, huh? The road’s an educational place, but still, maybe you oughta take it a little easier on the lessons. Or maybe you should’ve done some more studying before you headed out. Either way, it’s too late now. The only way through is forward. Plus side, you’ve learned to be scared of the N’yari. Probably. Sheltered priestesses make breathy little gasping noises when they’re scared, right? That sounds right, yeah. So, good, you’ve learned to be scared of the N’yari. You know to stay away from them. And if you learn just whose shoulder you’re sleeping on? If you learn what she’d been just a few hours ago? If you learn there’s things far, far worse than catgirl bullies out here? You’d stay far, far away. And you’d be right to. Stupid Machi. She was right about something after all. Flowers and stones don’t mix. But you’re never going to make it to that temple on your own, little bud. In a few years, maybe, but now? You’ll get eaten alive out there. That’s what’s hurts. That’s the stinging, heavy pain in her chest that won’t let her sleep. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, though. For you, she’ll pretend to be a flower for a few days. She’ll see you there safe. A promise is a promise, no matter what happens. [Feral: 0] ****************************************************** Along the low, leveling slopes of the lowlands, following the course of the river Spearwort as it rumbles ever-onwards towards the sea, far away from cities of industry and consequence, the Sapphire Mother’s gaze fell upon the town of Thimbleweed. She watched their hearts sink deeper into the muck of endless rains, without any sunlight to cheer them. In the quiet of her own counsel, she feared the allure of fire and heroism, and what the good people of the Flower Kingdom might forget in their swooning. So it was that she directed her priests to revive the flagging tradition of the Festival of Leaves. Come one! Come all! Taste the fruits of generations of Flower Kingdom ingenuity! Leaves and blends perfected over generations of tea-makers! Peruse the finest of Flower Kingdom pottery, and find yourself a new favorite teacup. Sit with your friends, your families, your neighbors, all your favorite people. To brew a fine cup of tea takes great care and practice, a work of art and a work of heart. Who better to enjoy it with than those you love? Sit awhile, share your stories, hear the tales of your Kingdom’s bravest and best. It is the Festival of Leaves, and all are welcome! Across the great river, two travelers stand beneath half an umbrella, and the sounds of the festival carry over the rain-swelled rush. The lights of the inns and teahouses shine in place of the stars this evening, guiding all to their doors. “Oh! Oh! Oh!!!!” The priestess nearly loses control of her umbrella for bouncing. “They’re having a festival! It’s, it’s, um, I’ve heard of it before, I know it, but I’ve never actually [i]been[/i], so, can we? Can we stop in? Oh, just for a little bit, please?” It’s a trap. Of course Han knows it’s a trap. Who do you think she is? It’s always ‘oh, we’ll just stay for a minute’ or ‘just one show, then we’re going’ but then you see the market, or you hear about the headline act, next thing you know you’re paying for three nights at the inn and the whole trip’s gone out the window. Oh no. Not [i]this[/i] time, festival. You gotta get past Han, first. “Mmmm. I don’t think so. We should keep moving, if we want to make good time to the temple.” Responsible! Thought-out! Selflessly missing a festival! Victory! Han might’ve withstood complaining. She might’ve endured the long sulk. She even might’ve stood strong in the face of the dreaded Silent Treatment. But the priestess did none of these. She stops her hopping. “Oh,” she says, in a voice so tiny it could blow away in the wind. “I. Suppose you’re right…” Does she sniffle? Does her lip shake? Impossible to tell beneath the veil, especially when she straightens her back stiff and refuses to let even a single tear fall. Because she’s a priestess, you see, and a good priestess wouldn’t. Wouldn’t cry over something as silly as a mere [i]festival.[/i] Of the mighty Han, there is nothing left but an aching, tearing hole where her chest used to be. “You know.” She blurts out. “Maybe. We can spare some time to check it out. We’ll just stay a minute. Or two. Tonight.” At once the light returns to her eyes. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! We’ll only be a minute, I promise!” And before her guide could say another word, she grabs her by the hand and leads her laughing towards town. Han gives no resistance. How could she? She didn’t weigh a thing right now. She was full of air and butterflies and starlight, and maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Oh look! Look! They have festival dresses!” Or maybe it was the worst mistake of her life. Hard to say. ****************************************************** “So what does Han’ya mean?” Mistake. Definitely a mistake. As bad a mistake as the dumb rosepetal dress the priestess [i]insisted[/i] she wear, in broad daylight. Couldn’t it have waited until they got to the inn, bud? Where no one would ever know?! But Han does not glare. You could tell she isn’t glaring, because she turns right past the priestess, to look at a bird, which is something she does all the time, when interesting birds are around. “Uhm. Who wants to know?” “Oh. Um, me? Kinda?” The priestess fidgets with the handle of her half-umbrella. “It’s just, I’ve never heard a name like that before. And names are so important! And, I wanted to know what yours meant.” “It’s-” time to shut the hell up, Han. Bite your tongue if you have to. Except, no, wait, too sharp, you have to keep saying words or else she’ll realize how close you were to exploding just there. “-not exactly,” And you can’t be [i]too[/i] hard on it, she seemed to like that name. Don’t want her to think you’re mad at [i]her[/i] for liking it, can you? “Not exactly my real name. It’s just,” long breath. It’s just words. This part, you say without thinking. “Just a...nickname, Machi uses.” Awesome, great. Perfect. Now keep going before she notices your face is red why is your face red?! “Call me Han. Because, that’s my name, and that’s what people call me.” “Han…” Her reaction is inscrutable, as she tastes the name behind her veil. Yes, her eyes were sparkling, but that didn’t mean anything. They were always sparkling, actually. “That’s a nice name.” Then the little priestess dips low in a perfect curtsy. “My name is Melody of Silver Bells. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Han.” She glances up, expectantly batting her lashes, the propriety spoiled only slightly by the giggles bubbling out of her. “Yeah. Uh.” Was she supposed to curtsy back to a priestess? Too late, she was already doing it, clutching two fistfuls of flowery red dress and staring a hole straight in the ground. Where she belonged. “It’s nice a pleasure, a nice pleasure to meet you, Melody.” (Melody. What a pretty name…) ****************************************************** The market. A warzone, for the good girl. Tea-soaked idiots clogging all the walkways as they gape at the latest teapots that work exactly like every other teapot ever. No pushing, no shoving, no shouting, just. Patiently follow Melody. For as long as it takes. Each booth, a dark alley, hiding con artists who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, or maybe just some lost kittens, and so little time to tell the difference. No thank you. No [i]thank you.[/i] Say it as many times as necessary, without growling, don’t you dare bare your teeth at any of them! Even if they deserve it! Not to mention, a responsible traveler would keep a careful eye on the purse, spending enough on what was worthwhile without spending too much... “Well. You’re certainly excelling at [i]mingling,[/i] little sister.” Han knows that tone of voice. She knows who she’ll see before she rounds on the culprit. Another priestess, her silks accompanied by gold rings on every other finger, and her veil patterned with an overly-stylized lotus, of all things.Her nose high in the air, staring down at a blinking Melody. Oh, you thought you could slip past her guard and say [i]that[/i] to Melody, huh?! You’re a little out of practice with [i]mingling[/i], are you? Good news! Han’s got some quality [i]mingling[/i] for you right here you- “Awww, thank you!” Huh? Melody claps, her silks bouncing merrily. “I was so nervous I wouldn’t fit in - it’s my first pilgrimage, you see - so, so I’m so happy to hear that! Thank you! Oh, I mean,” She performs an elaborate gesture which was...um, probably a priestess greeting? Probably??? “Thank you, sister!” Melody couldn’t see the wicked smile her ‘sister’ was wearing beneath her veil. You gotta look at the eyes. That’s where you’ll see a priestess’ condescension, every time. Except for Melody. That's where you see her smile. Han steps between the priestesses. And turns to the smaller one. “Melody, they’ve got these tea sets that look like, turtles? Or something? A few streets over. You wanna take a look?” “Oh my gosh! Yes! Let’s!” Ignore the smug satisfaction radiating behind you, Han. Just keep following. Show her some turtle cups. Keep those eyes smiling. Before this know-it-all takes a parting- “Hmph. At least you’ve trained [i]her[/i] well.” -bwuh?! Han whirls on her. And Melody whirls on her too??? But the snooty priestess is already walking away! She’ll be gone in a moment! Quick! “I’m just her-!” "O-oh, I haven't been-!" Tragically, their objections got caught in each other's crossfire, with no survivors. At once, they silently signed a treaty, agreeing to keep walking towards turtles, look anywhere but at each other, and say nothing for longer than they should. Which suited them both, as they each had some. Thinking. To do. ****************************************************** “Aiieeeee! The Beast!” A shrill cry rings out. “The Vermillion Beast of Lanterns comes! Flee for your lives!” But it is already too late! The Beast is upon the town! See it come wriggling from the inky depths of stage right, its body so long that none can see the end of it! Wild eyes spin and bulge from its ugly paper-mache head. It opens its mouth, and oh, what wicked fangs! The land erupts into flittering flames, reds and oranges flapping wildly as it roars and stomps, and no flower survives its passing. The good townsfolk scatter like chaff, for no one could have the courage to withstand such horror. But lo! As the princess stoops to collect a child’s toy, dropped in the chaos, she falls! And ruins her dress! The Vermillion Beast of Lanterns towers over her, and she is helpless, only a dainty hand raised against the doom fast befalling her-! “Get back, your highness!” A brave knight draws her sword with a declaration of steel! In shining armor, she stands between the monster and its helpless prey. “By my oath to the crown - no, to our oath of the moonlit garden, I will hold back the Beast!” “Trouble these kingdoms no more!” A priestess in bright blue silks leaps beside the knight, streams of calligraphed ropes flowing from her sleeves. “Peace, creature, by choice or by the Mother’s hand!” The bindings are not for the Beast alone. They’ve already wound tight around the heart of Melody, perched on the very edge of her seat, shining eyes wide as can be. She says nothing. Only gasps escape her lips, and with each turn of the terrible battle, she clings tighter and tighter to her companion’s arm. Han’s free hand comes to rest gently over hers. She leans close, voice dropping to a whisper only for her. “Easy, bud. No beast is gonna get you.” “I promise.”