[b]Heavenly Cytherean Machi![/b] The witch studies you a moment too long, her close-cropped hair refusing to succumb entertainingly to gravity. “You’re complicated,” she says, more to herself than to you. “Like a city. Influx of different cultures, different motives. Cascading? Possible. Hard to tell from a look. You’re definitely from [i]Her,[/i] but cut, adulterated.” Her eyes glitter. Too keen. She’s dangerous, this witch. “You should have clarity. You want to know what I know because you [i]don’t[/i] know. You need an anchor point. Something to pivot on. Torn away? Added to. Cecylene: at a guess. How better to derail?” She comes to a conclusion, and smiles thinly. “You are a distraction,” she concludes. “You’ve been hijacked, and everything you do with that mask on is going to further the agenda of Hell. So take it off.” She takes a breath, and then slams her will into the command: bereft of ritual, without signs and tools, barely enough to tilt you unless you were already teetering: “[i]Now.[/i]” Do you? Does her cold read of you (perhaps only partially correct, not that you can be sure) rattle you? Does it fracture you further, or make you cohere long enough to send her spinning? Whatever your answer, keep your head up: there’s more trouble on the way. Tangled-up hearts, emerging from the trees. *** [b]Piripiri![/b] Azazuka barely gives any thought to the offer— or, rather, she skips straight to acceptance. She really should be more careful! What if you staged all this to get closer to her, and the warlock was in your employ? What if you were a con woman who got lucky and snuck her out using your ill-gained skills, and you intend to drain her purse dry? Or, hypothetically speaking, what if you were a spy who would gain a view of the Flower Kingdoms’ political games from within by being close to her, and would be required to push her towards the Red Wolf? …ah. The Red Wolf. There is a method by which you can send word to her, and quickly, by supernatural means, in case of emergency. What is it? And how will you guide Azazuka past what looks like a dragon of dust arising from the town in order to get her somewhere with tea and seats and the means to contact the Red Wolf? *** [b]Giriel![/b] The glamour draped over the town comes apart. Your keen eyes see gossamer-strings snapping and wildly lashing like ship’s ropes suddenly cut. You’ve stopped everyone here from being controlled by one of the rakshasa: one that is evidently powerful, has had time to lay a spell upon an entire town, or both. The problem is that you stumbled into it and took it apart without even really thinking about it. Anyone here could be the rakshasa, and if you tried to seek them out by magical means, you’d end up with all sorts of false positives. Like, for example, the two familiar girls in front of you. One’s a knight (how better to prey upon dreams of glory and adventure?) and the other is a burly highlander (perhaps a goblin-queen, hiding her uncouth nature and freakish strength in plain sight) — but either could be a disguise. From this point forward, anybody could be the magician that did this, even that priestess trying feebly to comfort those frightened by the sudden dust dragon, and whoever they are? They have your number, for sure. But you’re the center of attention, and everyone’s stopped fighting and is looking to you, except for those two girls, who might have a more immediate or pressing challenge!