[b]Kalaya![/b]

“Nonsense,” the Red Wolf explodes, jovially. She slaps one hand on her knee and then bounds up to her feet. “It’s the least I can do now that everything is settled. Oh, Princess, I am [i]delighted[/i] to be able to release you!”

She scoops your face up into her hands, which are warm on your cheeks, dangerously and beguilingly warm. “Together, we’ll protect this beautiful land, stop those fairies and cats, and prove to [i]everyone[/i] that I was right to trust you!”

She plants a possessive kiss on your forehead, lingers for just a moment too long, and then sweeps past, already giving orders.

“I’ll have her released,” she says to the medic. “Get her something to wear for now, show her to a cabin, and then get her something [i]appropriate[/i] for a bold knight.”

Congratulations! You’ve done it! Now you’ll be escorted to a (guarded) cabin. Maybe you’ll even be allowed (accompanied) roaming of the barge! Everything’s looking up for Kalaya Na!

***

[b]Piripiri, in the Threefold Gardens![/b]

“Oh,” the demigod says, suddenly hesitant. “Well, see, their leader was very… she wanted Han to join her, to be one of the N’yari, and she was very… kissy. So naturally there was some confusion afterwards.”

She’s upset about that. But there’s something more complicated there than the most simple reading. You could try puzzling that out, if you like, for intelligence or simply your own curiosity.

“And while she was fighting,” Lotus adds, rushing past that unpleasantness, “she broke some umbrellas, and she really is a nice person, it’s just that when she’s all riled up, she’s not thinking about how someone’s [i]umbrella[/i] is special to them, she’s just using everything she can fight with [i]to[/i] fight.”

She glances back at you, suddenly worried. “You won’t tell her I told you about the umbrellas, right? Please don’t. I don’t want her to think I’m being a gossip…”

***

[b]Giriel![/b]

The Red Wolf’s bunk is opulent. She apologizes, of course, making excuses for how hard it is, how cramped, how it’s only what an emissary could afford— but it’s big enough to be cozy with her entwined with you, your hair intermingled, her fingers tracing maps of unknown territories along your shoulders. It’s sinfully soft and the sheets are velvety smooth and it’s got many, many oddly firm pillows.

And the Red Wolf declaims poetry in the Dominion idiom into the expanse of your body, unafraid, adoring, impossible. That you could be wanted by a woman like this.

[i]Between the far-flung poles the mountain stands:
the blessed rod, the cornerstone of earth,
by which the shiv’ring world anchored holds,
o Meru, peak of peaks, unconquered height!

Yet I have climbed a peak as resolute,
foundation set to hold the skies apart,
and there I left my conq’ring claim to stand
in royal color: red to match Her mail.

And there beheld a vision wond’ring fair:
the flowers pink, bursting from the snow;
and these I plucked to make a garland sweet,
the fragrance for to wreathe about my head.[/i]

Has anyone ever spontaneously declaimed poetry at you? For that matter, have you ever been wooed like this? Have you ever known luxury like this? 

And what else do you let slip, unwisely, during pillow talk?

***

[b]Fengye![/b]

Han of the Highlands is like a stringed instrument in your hands. Maybe not an erhu, but an oversized Western mandolin. Ask Han your two questions, which will be answered honestly, whether or not Han knows she is answering them.