Myka nodded at Sid’s explanation, then again at Ruli’s assertion, which Gavin also appreciated. “Isn’t there some way to just, er, [i]nudge[/i] them to think of whatever memory they like best without having to poke around individually?” the pirate asked, mouth half-full with food. Gavin grimaced. “That’s tricky. Say, we put something, an enchantment, a rune, that orders their brain to think of a happy memory, sure it could work, but we’ll have no control over what that memory is, or what direction the mind would go. What if Solaralai reinforces herself as a good memory, for instance. The anchor has to at least be like a concrete connection or something.” At the mention of coin, Gavin perked up, then fished something out of his pocket. When Kire paid him and Ruli for their services the other day he had only been paying close attention to counting everything and making sure the gold was real before setting the rest aside. He did keep a few pieces on his person just in case. On the obverse were symbols he presumed were inscriptions of some kind written around the margins, with the stylized Wyvern he had seen around the Palace in the middle. On the reverse was, indeed, the profile of a woman with long hair and a solemn expression. “Not the warmest face,” Gavin commented, then pausing, realizing that Kire’s default expression wasn’t always so friendly anyway. When Ruli mentioned knowing what that was like, Gavin looked up from the coin and grinned. “When you say you should know that, d’you mean not liking the current ruler, or if Kire is a good memory?” “[i]Hah![/I]” Myka laughed, reaching to playfully smack Gavin’s arm. “Good one!” Gavin smirked a moment longer before going back to the question of the token, peering down at it more seriously. “Hard question to answer, isn’t it?” Myka said with a shrug. “Of course we’d say she is, because we know her. But for the rest of the empire, especially so soon after she had just fought a big battle to reclaim a throne she’d lost? Whether they think she’s good or bad, they’d also associate her with war.” “The boy she rescued from the fires yesterday, though,” Gavin put in, lazily twirling the coin. “That’s a concrete memory, directly related to the coin’s image. We could probably test it out on him? Er, carefully. I know we warded their camp itself to suppress their new magic enough, Ysaryn was right about it being like something stewing inside waiting to get out. And they’ll have to leave camp at some point.” He let the coin spin and fall on the table. “So. Maybe see if the memory of Kire helping him could be a happy one, or at least a calming one, something to focus on. Can we store that in the coin? If that doesn’t work, maybe something else these folks value that they could hang onto. If they got something personal on them, a sentimental object? ‘Course coins would be easier, since they’re all the same. I think.” -- Kire expected the condescension, though it didn’t mean she liked it any less, nor did she still feel particularly sorry for what she had done to the temple. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that all this trouble was because of [i]that[/i], but nevertheless she accepted something had to be done to rectify it, if only they could get somewhere with Solaralai. Zeltzin was not the first person to be disappointed in her. “Simple,” she repeated under her breath, not wholly convinced. There was nothing [i]simple[/i] about this. When the priestess’s features shifted back to that gods-be-damned infuriating placidity, Kire likewise took a deep breath, feeling like her next words foreshadowed something gravely wrong. “Alright. A temple then. And Sol—the Goddess will not take it out on my citizens.” She paused, however, not moving just yet. Kire did not at all like the idea of bringing Zeltzin anywhere near the afflicted people at camp. Nor did she want to leave the priestess alone here, or unsupervised for even a moment. She could take her back to the Tower, but then she’d still need to come back here, and interact with builders and other workers if she were to supervise the building of a temple. “This temple…this is all she is asking for?” she said, wanting to be sure. If the Goddess went back on her word, Kire would have the precedent to make an enemy out of Zeltzin. “I will take you to the town not far from here. I’ll have escorts for you. For safety.” Kire didn’t elaborate whose safety she was more concerned for as she finally held her hand out to the priestess. “We’ll take the faster route.” -- Daryll joined the others in the middle of breakfast, his expression tense. “Kire is back,” he announced. “With—the priestess. Zeltzin?” Myka frowned as she finished her coffee. “And? What does she want? What does…her Goddess want?” Daryll huffed. “A temple. Kire says it’s to make up for the one she had destroyed in Ziad. Gods—fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his mood worsening as he uttered the curse. “Kire’s called for her to be watched at all times; they’re setting up another tent for the priestess as we speak. Kire doesn’t want her meeting the townsfolk just yet. Understandably. I don’t like this one bit,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ll be joining her shortly; I want to hear for myself what this woman has to say on behalf of her deity.”