[b]Kalaya-[i]Phraya[/i]![/b]

“Sure,” says Peregrine, and she listens carefully as you explain Uusha’s curse. By the power of the wild gods, by the bones of the Flower Kingdoms, without solace and home. (The dumplings won’t even taste good. Not for you. Not today. Not with that hanging over you.)

“Are you attached to your name?” She offers, once you have finished. “That’s easy. I can destroy it. No [i]you[/i] for the hooks to hold onto. No injury to the Kingdoms. Solution. Simple. Or. [i]Or.[/i] The [i]cakkavatti[/i] lifts it. Their prerogative. [i]Her[/i] prerogative.”

“Oh, that would make things simple,” Ven says. From the look on her face, eating your name is not the most optimal solution. “All you have to do is help us, and then [i]I[/i] can uncurse you.”

She reaches out and takes one of your hands with her own. She’s warm to the touch, almost feverish. Not just the humidity in the air. Hell was like this, too. Seared by green sunlight.

“And on top of that— we’ll stop the war before it can even start,” she continues. “No Dominion warships sailing up the river, no Holly barbarians pouring out of the north. Just you and me. We’ll be heroes. Queens.” She squeezes your hand.

What isn’t she telling you?

[hr]

[b]Hanaha![/b]

The moment of distraction is all you need. You stuff the mountain witch’s face against your side and squeeze her head, reveling in the thump of blood through your limbs, in the back-and-forth of glorious competition (provided that you are the winner by the end of it).

This is what it means to be N’yari. And that is why you lick the top of her head, too, grinning and hot-mouthed and unrepentant. This is the insatiable heart that Grandmother Moon gave you, and nothing you do in following its irrepressible whims can truly be said to be wrong.

[hr]

[b]Lotus![/b]

Now here’s a question.

Is there anything that could match their power, little flower? If your mother arrived, could she pry these two forces of nature apart? Possibly. Your mother is the spirit who holds power over all of the Kingdoms. But there’s doubt in your heart as you watch the two fight, and you get to see what it’s like when dragons fight over a treasure. (That’s you. You’re the treasure.)

Howls on the high wind. The cloud-spirits are beginning to notice what’s going on below. If they come down to watch the fight, beyond blanketing this whole area in fog and mist, they also might recognize you, or at the very least, might notice that you’re a little bit like them. And if anyone’s going to carry you off, you’d rather it be the exhilarating, beguiling dragon than a bunch of rowdy cloud-spirits.

So you rush towards the both of them, hoping that maybe you can— you don’t know, convince them to stop this glorious and jaw-dropping fight? You don’t really have a plan, you just hope that maybe if you get their attention, they’ll realize they need to stop on their own?

Or maybe you’ll get sucked into the fight, a tiny voice whispers. Tossed from dragon to dragon. Gently kissed by their unleashed powers, as Han and your pursuer bend around you and argue over you and fight over you~!!