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[h1][color=slateblue]Buried Hopes, Seeping Like Darkness[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center][h3]The Interview[/h3][/center]

	The office was large and cluttered with crates, artifacts, and stacks of books and notes, organized with a sort of idiosyncratic chaos that smacked of academia. The windows were large and dusty, arched at the top, and golden light streamed in through them. At the far end of the room, silhouetted within the open balcony doors, behind a great mahogany desk, stood the head of the Archaeology department: Giancarlo Silvestri. On the desk was laid out a luxuriant antipasto platter. Upon seeing Xiuyang enter, he turned and smiled, hands clasped behind his back. "Please, come in, seat yourself and help yourself." He gestured. "I do apologize in advance for just how tough I'm going to be on you, but let's do it on a full stomach, no?" He smiled and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled warmly.

	Xiuyang wore a dark blue Rettanese dress with red floral patterns, sharp and form fitting. A blood red pendant adorned her neck, and for once, she was covering her scars with makeup and arcane magic. [color=slateblue]"I would never hold it against you to take your work seriously, Messer Silvestri,"[/color] she remarked, taking her seat with a businesslike smile. At his prompting, she eyed the food, but considering who came before, she would politely abstain, with an apologetic smile.

	The High Zeno reached out with a tiny fork and took a roll of prosciutto from the plank. "Your decision, Signorina Solari." He smiled, and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Now, as we are all business here, shall we get down to it?" He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, smiling again. "Simple question, a rote one you've likely prepared for: Why this job? Why this job [i]really[/i]? Help me understand you."

	Xiuyang chuckled good-naturedly, checking over her shoulder to the door Zast had just left from. [color=slateblue]"My apologies. I know it's irrational. Someone of my blood shouldn't worry about where food has or hasn't been—but despite everything, I'm still a lady, so here we are,"[/color] she japed.

	She nodded at the suggestion that she was prepared for his question. [color=slateblue]"My favorite part of any job has always been to find the talent among those under my purview, and allocate my time and resources accordingly, teaching included. I could do that anywhere, but I find my interest in the Gift renewed and expanded beyond the scope of medicine lately."[/color] After a pause of consideration, she continued. [color=slateblue]"A good way to continue to learn is to teach. If both teacher and student are motivated, both stand to benefit. I don't waste my limited resources on the unmotivated, who refuse to learn."[/color]

	"Oh, truly? Why this sudden awakening, Miss Solari?" Giancarlo still appeared to be waiting: waiting to be convinced.

	Xiuyang smiled tightly in mild annoyance. She could truthfully only come up with one answer to that, and she had convinced herself that everyone else was thinking it too: she was weak. Those who can't, teach.

	[color=slateblue]"Can you think back to a time when you were young and naive enough to think that only selfish or evil people made enemies?"[/color] She knitted her fingers anxiously, some small part of her wondering if only she could ever be that blind and stupid. [color=slateblue]"I used to think of the Gift as just this funny bag of tricks the nobles had, a learnable skill like any other. Now I've seen how much bigger than all of us it truly is. I've seen the Gift do things that ought not be done, in the hands of those who ought not have it. But they do, and when a nine-point-five decides to exercise their will, it's no wonder people say the gods are on their side, or that they themselves are the gods."[/color] Xiuyang frowned. She was so close yet so far from that level. Her RAS level was considered "prodigious," but the more they called her "prodigy," the more it began to sound like a taunt, a joke at her expense.

	[color=slateblue]"Nothing could be more important than teaching those with the Gift to use it responsibly. Without that, there would be no order, either within society or to life itself. No one could ever live in peace. Some nights, I can barely sleep. I always wake up wondering if my nightmares are real."[/color] There was obvious frustration on her face and in her voice. Frustration that it had taken her this long to come to an obvious conclusion, perhaps, or maybe frustration that she had desired a more convincing answer herself, but had not found one. A more convincing answer to what, though? Not just Silvestri's question, but a much deeper one.

	Silvestri clasped his hands at the small of his back and stood in profile, silhouetted by the archway. "So," he concluded, "in a nutshell: fear." He nodded slowly, as if to digest the statement. "You work to prevent something terrible. This, I... understand," he allowed. "Is there anything you work [i]towards[/i], however? A mage should know fear, but not without wonder."

	Xiuyang raised her head slightly, curious and bemused. [color=slateblue][i]A mage should know fear?[/i][/color] she pondered. It wasn't a reaction she expected. Just what [i]had[/i] she expected, though? For him to laugh at her for being weak? [color=slateblue]"My initial goals in attending Ersand'Enise haven't been set aside. There are maladies yet to be understood or made curable... dare I even suggest they might be made preventable in their entirety instead. If such research exists, that's what I want to work on. If it doesn't, then I'll make it so."[/color] Her face turned sheepish as the boldness of her own words caught her by surprise.

	As if to apologize, she averted her gaze. [color=slateblue]"I've always been healthy. Illness is not something I can understand from experience, but I've seen how it ruins lives. Even royal heirs are not exempt from the risk of a short, bedridden life. Even when I was young, I pitied them. I'm still passionate about it. I just... also think that I need to be a more well-rounded student. I can mend broken bones, but not the hearts filled with the desire for murder and war. I have to be prepared to protect what's dear to me."[/color]

	"A fair assertion," the Zeno allowed, "and a hopeful one." He nodded, sipping some of his lemon water. "But also not a whole truth. You've not always been healthy. The scars you're trying to hide with makeup say otherwise." For a moment, his face became sympathetic. "I don't mean to pick at scabs or reopen old wounds, and I do apologize, but I must perform my due diligence." He shook his head and waited for an answer.

	There was nothing in Xiuyang's stomach. Yet it turned, as though it might just manifest something to spite her. Scars weren't "unhealthy." They certainly weren't contagious. The High Zeno that stood before her knew this. He wasn't an idiot. All of her father's advice about not drawing attention to herself repeated itself in her rattled mind. She wanted to oversell her offense at his nosiness and just leave. Instead, she swallowed and continued speaking, her face as pale as a ghost.

	[color=slateblue]"What do you think would have happened if I had returned from Yarsoc completely unscathed?"[/color] She replied, gathering her composure. She didn't name her assailant. She couldn't. She had no "proof." [color=slateblue]"This way, their pride is sated, and I remain safe from further attacks, for now."[/color] She took a deep breath. She wasn't lying. She [i]was not[/i] lying. [color=slateblue]"Their message is not meant for you, High Zeno. It would be rude of me to insist on showing them to you."[/color]

	For a moment, his eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged easily enough. "Fair enough," he replied with nonchalance, "but there is something from earlier that interests me, however: a question that I have found myself grappling with before." He took a piece of cheese and tossed it into his mouth, sitting and folding his arms upon the desktop. "You spoke of not caring for the unmotivated, but the reality of both teaching and learning is that you [i]will[/i] encounter these people, like it or not, and you are being paid to work with them. How do you reconcile your strident statement to that effect with the harsh reality?"

	Xiuyang tried not to look [i]too[/i] relieved to be rid of the previous question. The next, though not a soft pitch by any means, was one she was prepared for. [color=slateblue]"It's true. You can't fire a student. They're more like bad customers than employees."[/color] She nodded. [color=slateblue]"It's not that I'd be refusing to do my job out of frustration—only that I'd be seeking to ensure the school's resources are not going to waste,"[/color] she explained.

	[color=slateblue]"Perhaps this sounds harsh for a merchant to say, but my only duty is to provide the goods and services that were paid for. It's not my job to ensure that the parents' money is well spent. To not be so brazen as to use myself as an example, you have limited time in your day. Not every student can have your full attention at all times. Students who put in the bare minimum should expect the same in return. The students who show the most promise and who put in the most effort should be the ones receiving 'extra service.' The same here: only the most promising candidates received an interview with you. The rest had their forms thrown in the bin—politely, of course."[/color] She put on her best customer service smile to emphasize the point.

	He let out a bark of laughter - genuine laughter - or at least it appeared so, and nodded thoughtfully. "That was your best answer yet, and perhaps your most honest." He stood and a hand reached for hers. It was gentle, but rough and calloused. "You are impressive, Xiuyang." He pursed his lips in approval. "So, one last question: do you [i]really[/i] want this, and who do you want it for?"

	The faux customer service smile gave way to a genuine one as the High Zeno laughed and commended her. She was unaccustomed to praise, and couldn't help herself. Tension left her body as she stood up and shook his hand. He didn't ask about her position at the company. He didn't ask about her choice of friends or question her religious beliefs or point to her alcoholism or seek out other moral failings to criticize. If her own father had been half this supportive—but that didn't matter anymore.

	At his final question, her smile mellowed somewhat. She'd spent much of her words both in the written form and the interview trying to sell him on how she'd be an asset to the academy, and he had spent much of his asking about what [i]she[/i] wanted out of this. In reply, she nodded in understanding. [color=slateblue]"I'm sure you've seen your fair share of students being pressured by their parents into doing this, for the prestige. It would be nice if they bragged about me once in a while, but that's not why I'm here. They can 'have' the title of Tan-Zeno, figuratively speaking. The job is for me and my own future."[/color]

	He shook her hand. "Well, I imagine you'll have it one way or another. The question remains: will that be now or at some time in the future." His smile was businesslike now. "You'll be notified if you've made the test stage. Good luck."

	It was Xiuyang's turn to laugh now, but she stifled it. [color=slateblue]"Hmhm. Just how many times do you think I've written to an applicant that they are 'not accepted at this time,' when the reality is, 'not in a million years?'"[/color] She smiled impishly. [color=slateblue]"Thank you for your time, High Zeno Silvestri, and your well wishes are much appreciated."[/color] With a nod of respect and a curtsy, she turned and left.

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[center][h3]Unbecoming[/h3][/center]

	It was the first gloomy day in a long line of fair weather days; perhaps the Zenos had meddled with the skies again to raise morale, whispered some. The sky was grey, and the distant rumble of thunder punctuated the relative quiet of an Ersand'Enise that saw most of its students enjoying their free time indoors.

	It was on these kinds of days that only the most dedicated would train outdoors. It was also on these kinds of days that those students who hated crowds would go to the Proving Grounds to do just that. Among them was the familiar student with the unfamiliar face.

	[color=slateblue][i]Faster.[/i][/color] Xiuyang ran another lap around the inside of the arena; not her second, third or fourth lap—simply "another one." She would run until her lungs burned, and then she would walk until she caught her breath. Then, she would run some more. [color=slateblue][i]Faster![/i][/color] Sweat poured past her brow, stinging her eyes and running down the scars she bore. Here, in the Proving Grounds, scars were welcome things. On the face of a warrior, they were celebrated.

	Xiuyang did not want to be a warrior. She wanted to be so many other things: a world-renowned doctor and pharmacist, supportive wife of the savviest businessman and philanthropist in all of Revidia, and loving mother of at least four children, who would be accepted and appreciated the way her own mother tried to convince her that she was, but she simply was not.

	The faces of the few women lucky enough to be remembered by history did not bear scars. Neither did scars belong on the faces of wives who were loved by their husbands—and they were certainly unbecoming of mothers. Scars belonged on the faces of warriors. Xiuyang did not want to fight. She simply wanted to [i]live[/i]—to see the day these dreams would come to fruition—but if history forced her hand, she would become a warrior first, and the rest would have to wait.

	Xiuyang continued to run, pursued in her mind's eye by a one-legged phantom. [color=slateblue][i]Faster!![/i][/color] she told herself, remembering that time—for it would come again, and the next time she would have to be faster, stronger, and... [color=slateblue]"S-Shit."[/color] Xiuyang stumbled to her knees, willing herself not to throw up. Her training regimen was not very smart, nor—she told herself—did it need to be. For neither the first, second, or third time, she healed the damage in her legs as she retrieved a food jar from her medicine box. It was time for a break—just a short one.

	Then, she would run some more—

	[b]"You seem determined!"[/b] boomed a voice that had become familiar lately. It was Zeno Sectoxomactex. [b]"But you'll run faster if you maintain proper form! You run like you're desperate to escape something—like a woman possessed. Your body will feel less heavy if you lighten the load on your mind."[/b] Xiuyang looked up at the tower of a man and regarded him with a smile. [color=slateblue]"Thank you, Z—Messer Secto."[/color] She swiftly corrected herself, but declined the implied offer to lay her troubles before him by way of a silence that would not go unnoticed.

	[b]"The strong, silent type, are we? That attitude won't last long under my tutelage,"[/b] he promised with a grin. [color=slateblue]"I meant no disrespect."[/color] [b]"No, no, I'm sure you didn't—but you'll get my advice whether you like it or not. You've lost weight since the last time I saw you, and for someone as small as you, that's not good. Enough running for you—you should lift weights!"[/b] He flexed his biceps to emphasize the point. [b]"And don't neglect your sleep. If all you do is train, you'll never get stronger. No matter how skilled a binder you may be,"[/b] he added meaningfully. Xiuyang looked down at her gourd and pondered. Muscle repair was something she could do herself. If her energy, focus or willpower wavered, she could give herself more with chemical magic. Daily sleep was a necessity for most people, but a luxury for a talented mage, wasn't it? If this method was good enough for Trypano, it should be good enough for her—but, perhaps she ought to consider his experience. Maybe she was overlooking something important.

	Her thoughtful expression seemed satisfactory for the time being. [b]"Believe it or not, I didn't come here to give you a lecture. The archaeologist was looking for you. He has a job for you—not your test, but something that may interest you—a delicate situation befitting an experienced negotiator."[/b] An unasked question formed on Xiuyang's face: [color=slateblue][i]I passed the interview?[/i][/color] Secto grinned from ear to ear. [b]"That ought to put your mind on other things! Go see him,"[/b] he encouraged. Xiuyang took a victory chug from her gourd. [color=slateblue]"Thank you. I will."[/color]

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[center][h3]Ransom Demand[/h3][/center]

	[color=slateblue][i]This isn't where I'm supposed to be.[/i][/color] That was all Xiuyang could think about as she listened to the hooded figure and read the notice being passed around. While she hadn't exactly given her word that she would accept the mission from High Zeno Silvestri, expressing her interest in receiving a mission from him personally and then getting distracted by Yasoi affairs could be construed as "unprofessional" by those who wished to look for such things. This was, ostensibly, also a matter which the academy would want resolved, and one she couldn't ignore. She would just have to hope that an understanding could be reached after the fact. This was effectively a hostage situation, and she couldn't waste time apologizing ironically for taking the initiative on this.

	[i]Jaxan'suul'doridax.[/i] When the notice finally reached her hand, she had to disguise her scoff as a dramatic loss of breath. [color=slateblue][i]Charitable work. Right... At least this explains his disappearance.[/i][/color] Having finished reading, she passed it along, then stood pondering a while. The notice had some concerning undertones about the parents' intentions. Understandably, their way of handling this could be charitably described as "unrefined." As she considered their intentions, and the intentions of some of her allies, and the possible motives of the kidnappers, various pieces fell into place in her mind. [color=slateblue]"I agree with you, Seviin—but this situation requires more finesse than our wealthy friends are expecting. Frankly, it's beyond me. I'm going to call in a favor from an old friend of mine. Don't worry, you can trust them—more than you can trust me, really. Unlike me, they have a reputation to uphold,"[/color] she japed playfully, winking at Ashon as she turned to leave.

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[center][youtube]https://youtu.be/7TYJxvlTqt4?si=f3bgtbPOozKwoTar[/youtube][/center]

	Rather than Xiuyang, someone else arrived at 74A Crossview Terrace. Another, entirely different black-haired, distinctly Rettanese woman wearing a red hood, not to be confused with Xiuyang, carrying a historically significant staff that certainly didn't belong to their friend, Xiuyang, and wearing a skull masque that was definitely not acquired by Ciro during the Trials prize selection.

[hider=Definitely Not Xiuyang][img]https://i.imgur.com/NEXYHEK.jpg[/img][/hider]

	[color=orangered]"Good day to you all,"[/color] she greeted as though meeting for the first time, with a thick Rettanese accent. She leaned on her staff as she bowed her head. [color=orangered]"Since before Belleville got its name, I have been called the 'Six-Tailed Fox,' and been a benefactor of its residents. Now that I am no longer needed there, I've turned my attention to the refugees,"[/color] She raised her head and pointed her staff in the direction of the Seagate. [color=orangered]"I'm here to find and rescue the boy."[/color] She planted her staff back on the ground, and casually leaned on it as she spoke with a kind of authority from experience. To her credit, the skull masque did much to give her an aura of a mysterious local guru and plant a seed of doubt even in those who knew her well. It couldn't possibly be anyone else but Xiuyang, but [i]was she?[/i] To her friends, she was Xiuyang, but to anyone else, she was... passably incognito, which, given recent events, was probably for the best.

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[h1][color=palevioletred]Appetites, Like Sponges, Expand When Whet[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center][h3]Castaway[/h3][/center]

	Raffie listened to Giancarlo Silvestri explain this complex situation, her eyes lighting up with wonder at all the proper times. A historically significant find! Treasure! Adventure! Pirates! [color=palevioletred]"Well, we can't let the pirates win! They don't care about history, only money!"[/color] she chimed in vapidly. [color=palevioletred][i]This is gonna be, like, a major shitshow. Maybe if I do the bleeding heart thing, I can get some info out of the locals,[/i][/color] she pondered. [color=palevioletred]"Aw, shucks! The best and brightest! I just got lucky☆"[/color] she squealed. [color=palevioletred]"I'll be there, for sure!"[/color] she said with a big smile.

	So it was that she arrived at the portal, wearing a shorter summer dress, sandals rather than her usual high heels, and a straw hat. She bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet and her heels, as if she were excitedly daydreaming about going to the beach, not giving any consideration to the political and diplomatic nature of the mission at all. [color=palevioletred][i]Unlikely doesn't mean it won't happen, though,[/i][/color] she wondered in secret, eyeing up all of her allies, trying to decide which among them could actually make a decision and take a side. [color=palevioletred][i]Hmm~ At least a few of these gentlemen look like they got their priorities straight...[/i][/color] She smiled and waved at each of them in turn, not a scrap of evidence as to her inner thoughts apparent on her face—until she laid eyes on Mahal. [color=palevioletred]"O-Oh, uh, fancy meeting you here,"[/color] she greeted awkwardly, averting her gaze. [color=palevioletred][i]She's a rash one, but that's better than analysis paralysis. I'll take her over a moralizing gasbag any day.[/i][/color]