[b]Fengye![/b]

The Maid stomps around the sled so that she can make an attempt at grabbing you by the chin. And here, you have two options: you can stop her, and indeed, move her arms however you like, or you can let her think that she is succeeding as you slip Zhaojun’s mask from her belt. It’s your choice; you, little Fengye, have all the power here. Isn’t that exhilarating?

“I am not [i]cute,[/i]” the Maid squeaks, and stamps her foot, which almost sends her toppling over again. “Nothing we made in this world is [i]cute![/i] It is an aberrant mind-sickness you monkeys are vulnerable to— to see weakness as endearing, and worth protecting! That is all [i]cuteness[/i] is! It is that which makes you look at weakness and not [i]crush[/i] it!”

(Imagine how she would look, under Zhaojun’s pitiless gaze, being “cute” to avoid being crushed. Does that make you feel pity for Hell?)

[hr]

[b]Han![/b]

Lotus rolled on the wet grass, and is deliriously giggling. That’s good. She’s not hurt and you made her laugh. “Woo!” That was so exciting. You are receiving a good grade in looking after priestesses and making them feel excited.

You would absolutely lose that grade if you let her know how badly you landed on your shoulder. How, when you let her go, it wasn’t so she could tumble safely through the grass and end up staring into the churning clouds, but because your hand stopped being able to hold her. She’d feel guilty for laughing. You’d make her feel bad.

So you get up with a signature Han grunt and hide the pain. She wiggles her way up, sparkling like a star that found its way under the clouds, her eyes shining. You’ll feel better later, probably. No need to crush her spirit. You’re her bodyguard. It’s your job, if you think about it.

Time to get moving.

[hr]

[b]Giriel! Piripiri![/b]

The Golden Banneret hares off, suddenly, after a yelping little brown blur. It has brought you in front of an inn, its lanterns shining invitingly in the bright grey light of morning.

On the stoop, beneath its awning, sits an exhausted, bedraggled woman in a mud-soaked, once-blue dress. She is flitting in and out of sleep sitting up. One hand gropes blindly on the ground next to her for the little brown fox that is being chased by the Banneret.

Her hair is familiar. Glossy (under the mud), sleek (presumably, when not frizzing), and the very same color as that of a certain diminutive dragon. Pull it back into a ponytail, stop paying attention to it, and you’d have something close to Han’s hair.

“Mother blesssu,” she says, half-asleep, making an approximation of a holy gesture with her other hand without opening her eyes. She’s likely been awake and active all night long.

Perhaps the Banneret brought you two here for a reason. Perhaps she’s just overexcited about chasing a fox. Do you call her back and bid her to keep going, or do you accept that she has brought you to a place that it is meant for you to be?

[hr]

[b]Kalaya![/b]

You hear the playing of the Crocodile as you finally emerge from the wild wood, and the silver voice that entwines between the plucking of its strings. It is a voice that drips with longing, with loss, hanging from its high notes like glass beads.

[i]Oh blow, oh blow, oh blow winds blow[/i]

It does not take your company long to find the source: sitting beneath a willow tree is Dima, the Dolphin Knight, in a robe the color of a seeding dandelion. Her rose-pink hair is unbound, tumbling carelessly down her shoulders. Around her, a few squires lie, listening.

[i]And the wind has blown my pledge away[/i]

Petony makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat, but her words seem to be stuck there, disdain warring with pity. Behind you, Machi lets out an inquisitive chirp. You can approach easily, if you please; her squires might try to bar your way, but only half-heartedly, and Dima herself will pay you no mind until you are on top of her, perhaps literally.

[i]And she was true, and I was false, oh blow, oh blow, oh blow winds blow…[/i]