[b]Kalaya![/b]

“That sounds great,” Ven starts, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as the three of you stand on the back veranda of the inn. The world is shifting mist and gentle spattering, and Ven shuffling closer, until her shoulder is resting against yours. For a moment, for just a moment, everything is perfect and sweet.

“But we have work to do,” says the stranger. Thin, pale, bags under her eyes, intense. “The sooner we uphold our end of the bargain, the sooner that we will be able to reach the end result. The promise of alchemy. The iron-wheeled [i]cakkavatti.[/i] Heaven under one hand, Hell under the other. Came at it from the wrong direction. Should have known better. Not [i]outside[/i] enough for the shape of the working, even with my presence.”

(Giriel would be able to tell you about the [i]cakkavatti,[/i] the monarch who is able to dictate the destiny of their country, who is able to defy both the will of Heaven and the power of the dragon-blooded. It’s an occult topic, a shorthand for a perfect ruler, a theological thought construct that has seen other kingdoms collapse in hubris. She would warn you that Peregrine has latched onto the idea of making one manifest and is pursuing it without stopping to ask about the consequences of failure. She would tell you that Ven is walking the edge of a knife. But Giriel is not here.)

“What she means,” Ven says, shifting her weight, “is that we think we know why Uusha won’t, can’t succeed at what she really wants. But [i]I[/i] can. And I need your help.”

“Want her help,” the stranger corrects, drumming her nails on the railing. “Insisted on her help. Acceptable source of resources. But we need to start. Find the discarded prior, anchor the Title. Then it gets [i]fun.[/i]”

“We can do that from the dumpling bar,” Ven says, but weakly. Not exactly the paragon of chivalry.

[hr]

[b]Fengye![/b]

The eye of Heaven(‘s messenger-hound) slides off you, molten gold, redirected by how meek you are, how pitiful you seem, how much you turn yourself into the inversion of a threat.

Then she bounds forward into a dance of swords, thinking herself capable of defeating anyone she pleases, and she’s quite right.

It’s just that she ignores the Maid completely, who responds by jamming her pommel into the hound’s hip, which is the difference between her snatching the mask and Jazumi knocking her down, but she’s springing back up, and now there’s three duelists watching each other, and the Maid’s snarling, and Jazumi’s pretending to be cavalier as she sizes up this new challenger.

You will have your work cut out for you trying to get the Maid to win, but now it is possible, as long as she is able to claim [i]both[/i] masks, and is stopped from wearing either one.

[hr]

[b]Giriel![/b]

“Big B!”

Hanaha (“better Han”) pounces on you, delightedly. She can’t get you off your feet, but she’s got you doubled over in an enthusiastic chokehold, and— oh, okay, that’s the power dynamics. This is Machi’s crew, and Machi is Not Here. They’re defaulting to Jazumi, but she’s trying to deal with both the Banneret and the Maid on either side, much too competitive to stop the fight just yet.

Hanaha, meanwhile, is giving you an impudent noogie. She will doubtless try to take you prisoner, as a bit, but what she really wants is for you to wrestle with her, to be the half-wild witch that you are, to position yourself as a liminal figure who can speak with N’yari using their own language.

All you have to risk is your dignity, the integrity of your outfit, and the fact that—

She’s right there. The scribe. The possessed. The woman who caused so much turmoil on the barge. She’s right there and she’s giving you a Look and if you are an undignified wildwoman she will Watch and she’ll [i]know[/i] you, Bruinstead. As if she had a String about your heart.

But the alternative is being bullied by— Hanaha is attempting to put her tongue in your ear now actually this is what you have to deal with, mountain catgirls are just Like This and the only way to deal with them is to be Like That even harder back at them.

[hr]

[b]Lotus![/b]

You could run, you know.

It’s an option! You could sprint and try to find someplace to hide. You could call for one of the little brown foxes and send a message to a god and get help!

But Han is [i]straining.[/i]

Your hand has your dress in a deathgrip, and the other clings to the umbrella for strength. Your toes dig in as you stand and watch, breathless, wordless, eyes wide, as Han fights the nice lady from the Dominion, and it’s almost like you can see the essence pouring off her shoulders, the shape of the mighty dragon boiling underneath her skin, and then—

You [i]feel[/i] the pulse of wood essence that flows through her feet, the rush of blooming flowers, the colors bursting in the back of your head. The noise you make is indecent, new, delighted? Delighted. She never did this around you before. Not like this. And you’re half-god, you’re the child of the river, and the world reflects its dragon-joy right back at you, and your heart is hammering as Han vents more, more power, more heat, more [i]heat,[/i] like the dragon she is, and is this how the children of dragons conquered the world? Is this how you want Han to conquer you?

“Get her!” Someone yells. The voice sounds familiar. “Han! Yes! [i]Yes~![/i]” Oh! Oh. [i]Oh.[/i]

They’re fighting over you, Lotus. All of this is for you. And if Han wins she might come over and tug your veil down and kiss you, her heart beating fierce and fast and fiery, and if the lady from the Dominion wins, wraps you up close, leaves you throbbing and blooming and helpless…

Oh! Oh! You are useless! Every blow, every clash, every pulse, leaves you reeling, gasping, and so, so fortunate that neither one of them can see your face, because it might betray how selfish you are, that you want them to fight over you and then claim their, their, their [i]prize…!!![/i]