魂出

Mountain Shaper...the name feels strangely familiar, as if she's heard it somewhere. She can vaguely recall someone or something watching her as she explored the mountains, as she inspected the large concentrations of amber, but no further memories reveal themselves.

She turns away from the stranger, looking back out over the cloud-strewn cliffs below. "This place is beautiful," she comments, eyes lingering on the horizon. "The clouds, the sky, the way the mountains frame them. Beautiful - and, it seems, deadly, too. I have no desire to incur the wrath of the one you speak of."

That took her aback for a moment – it was difficult to get farther from Liyue Harbor, even while trying, but this stranger seemed to think of it so offhandedly, without regard for the amount of steps along steep mountain paths it must have taken to bring a person from the metropolitan Liyue Harbor and all its amenities, to here, the brightest wilds of adeptal domain. 

Her eyebrows rose gently in her shock, though the rest of her face remained placid. 

"I see." She didn't. The thought continued to dig its way into her mind that this was a test of some manner, although what virtue she might have practiced here was a difficult one to parse, but for kindness. 

Shenhe's gaze followed the stranger's idly, across the dip and rise of the rocky landscape, acknowledging faintly that in certain lights - this one, to be certain, warm and glowing and reflective of the amber and Cor Lapis that dotted the countryside - it was picturesque, a scene out of an ink painting. 

"It is," she agreed, bringing herself closer to assess the stranger. In spite of the admitted, or falsified, incompetence, the woman carried herself with the same easy confidence of one acquainted with battle, and with the ache of heart that numbed afterward. She tilted her head, crossed her arms. "The area is named Forest of Jade Stone - although...it isn't meant to be in appreciation of its beauty. It's meant to be a warning." 

If this person was indeed as lost as she claimed, then this would not be something she could have known. 

It had seemed like a simple task. He still wasn't sure how he had ended up in this Fontaine, let alone on this planet. The backwater inhabitants, the few he had found for information had been useless, babbling about not knowing anything beyond the stars. After ensuring they wouldn't tell anyone else about his presence, he had stuck to the shadows, learning about this place.

He had appeared in one of the many nations that ruled over laughable sections of this land. Fontaine, one of the more advanced lands. Even if these Gardemek seemed laughable compared to the Aurumatons. Perhaps he could introduce biotechnology to this place, just to show them what true innovation and strength would look like. A new world to be fed to the beastships.

Still he was here for a job. As much as it was tempting to simply take what he needed, getting to know the lay of this new land would help him in the long run. The fact the job he had found was a simple bounty hunt, just meant he would get to enjoy himself.

After all, he had not been asked to bring this thief in alive.

As he moved through the sewers, finally he began to pick up a presence. Drawing his blade, a smirk crossed his face. Finally the hunt could begin.

But then she had set foot beneath the earth and began to make her way through each labyrinthine corridor, some sprawling, others truncated, and began to understand thoroughly how such a person could be lost to the courts. His spirit was weak, nothing that needed draw concern, but for the fact that this made it more difficult for her to track him. 

It was through old fashioned methods, then, that she found the set of footsteps, slinking through the paths in the dark, just as she was. 

None else would find a need to become so entrenched in the darkness but the hunter, and the hunted. 

Seeing his form in the distance, the lumber of great shoulders rising from a crouch, Shenhe slowed her steps, willing Calamity Queller to her hand without word, the chill of its frost dotting the moisture along the wall with every step to approach. The tug of her spirit pressed against their bindings, and Shenhe's flat mask settled into something harder as she lifted her polearm above her head with both arms. 

The only unchanging time, too, he notes, the mists hiding more than the landscape. If she is not lost yet, she will likely be soon, as had the many adventurers that had come before her, and the many after.

And with that thought, whether she welcomed it or not, Su quietly latches onto her in the mists, ensuring that should she move, he would follow. The island does not affect him as it would others, and it would easy for her to lose him should he begin to peer through the layers of fog.

He doesn’t, of course, simply asking her a question to make his intent to remain known, “Are you searching for something here?”

She realized then, with that comforting weight and the question of his own in turn, that she had lost herself here, nearly instantly. Glancing up, down, around and finding only the blinding endlessness of grey and white, there was a moment of brief internal panic when Shenhe answered, "I'm not sure." 

I think I'm supposed to. 

"I think I'm supposed to." 

No, that wasn't- 

Shenhe shook her head, doglike, as though the words had come from someone not present, as though it were an instinct that she could not account for. The words were familiar, the cadence of them soft and curious, mimicked with deliberate empathy, but not entirely her own. 

It was the stillness that grew loudest for her then, as she realized that she could not entirely recall for what purpose she found herself here. 

A beat. A breath. 

Had the others seen something similar, or was it different for all?

Over his head, the hush of malicious chatter has yet to cease, but Jing Yuan won’t acknowledge it. Teyvat features its own brand of heliobi, it seems, though he can’t find it in himself to be surprised. Death and tragedy breathes life to these sorts of things, and he would not be so naïve as to assume that it was an exclusive to his homeland.

They grow agitated as he ignores them. Did he fall asleep! Ugh! Where’s the panic? This is no fun…

Hushhhhhhhhh, whatever they are, they’re fading as quickly as the fog is dissipating. It’ll be good. Look how pretty he is as a Tengu! And you thought he’d be a cat…with that hair? He’s practically ready to take flight!

He would! The other argues, but by then their tones scatter to the wind in a way that would have him questioning their presence, the spat between them left woefully unfinished.

Instead, another draws his attention, the mist around him lifting to reveal an elegant estate. His knees are cushioned by velvet silks, and the archway to the courtyard beyond bustles with servants of all shapes and sizes. In his head, he reads through the letter in his hands one more time. Naming him Tsukiyo, a tengu of great status in a clan of which had been left obscure. Rejoice, it had said, as today he was to begin preparation to wed his intended, whom he had never met. Today, they would meet.

A wry smile twisted his lips as he looked to the woman standing before him. It was…a bit like a badly written drama, but his instincts cautioned patience. He knew too little about what lay before him – especially if the mist had been powerful enough to alter his features, to give him wings that ruffled somewhere behind at the mere thought of them.

Shenhe's steps grew more sure the closer she was, until she found herself directly opposite him, comforted by the acknowledgement that he, too, was not of this mirage. 

A hand extended, proffered the tightly bound scroll gilt in shimmering gold and pressed with the character 順 - Jun, her name, she was told, with no small amount of irony in that mysterious voice. 

"I'm supposed to give you this," she said to him in lieu of a proper greeting, shucked of all ceremony and propriety. "I haven't read it." 

Although her shoulders to her eye appeared draped in the layers upon layers of multi-colored silk, she felt the slink of fur against her bare skin, and once more the fufufu in her ear, hissing to play along, have a little fun, isn't he a handsome one - ? 

but it seems the time she came at was certainly interesting , so much talk about literature , yet not the kind she expected , treating it as if it were some sort of divine prophecy sent from above , was it something akin to the propehcy the titans would give ? no , it felt less . . . definitive .

to Castorice , this began to feel almost like a playground rumor that spread like wildfire , that grew into something much bigger then it was , yet , she still didn't have the full scope of things .

when she managed to overhear some sort of debate about exactly what had been on her mind , of course it would interest her , moving a bit closer and listening , waiting for it to be finished before she could softly call out .

" Pardon me . . . "

she stepped a little closer to Shenhe , once the conversation reached what seemed like a spot where it wasn't going anywhere productive , her voice soft , yet enough presence to hopefully catch her attention .

" if you don't mind . . . do you think you could elaborate on what you know ? i've only heard bits and pieces , but nobody seems to wish to talk in depth about it . "

The girl that approached held an odd sensation that if Shenhe were curious to explore, she might have found familiar, the touch of the dark and the brush against the veil to the other side tingling softly against her skin, but such as it was, if she came bearing more questions about a subject that Shenhe knew nothing about, then she was happy to guide her to where she might find better answers.

"No," said Shenhe simply, shaking her head as if in emphasis. "I don't know anything. I read a book about a tea house. The main character drank some tea."

It wasn't even a good book, as far as Shenhe knew, but she could acknowledge that she was no expert on these things. It had been tranquil, until it wasn't, although she could not have pinpointed where the tone had shifted or how even if asked.

Gesturing, Shenhe directed the girl to the person who had been so insistent that the whole thing was a portent of doom. "You could try asking them. They seem to know everything about this."

Jarilo VI... Belobog. What a sense of nostalgia for a place she never knew. She had merely heard of the long-thought-perished planet centuries ago in passing news- of an exceptional fighter from some struggling planet that, despite the warriors win, hardly if ever took payment for their wins. Instead, they only wished to speak of their homeland, and how desperate they needed help to keep the planet from perishing. That had been over four-hundred years ago, and now the planet is on an incline to recovery and more.

So, of course when she hears of the planet's resurgence though word of mouth, Jingliu's interest is grabbed. It takes her longer than she expected, but the snow haired woman does find her way to Jarilo VI, and the little city of Belobog- far more bustling and lively than she could have imagined. But, that was the purpose of her trip after all, to see the state the planet had come to be in. She wonders if Jing Yuan knows of this.. surely he must already be aware.

However, she appears to have come at a rather inopportune time, as several guards ( which she assumes is the planet's [ or more specifically the city's ] equivalent of a defense force ) are swiftly patrolling the roads of the main street- seemingly on edge. Jingliu is tempted to ask one of them what the situation is for them to be in such a frenzy.. but as a former knight herself, she can't bring herself to interrupt a soldier on duty ( especially when the seem so.. uneasy ).

Perhaps there is another way for the swordswoman to find an answer.

A quick assessment allows Jingliu to notice another individual, whom she guesses was not part of the local law enforcement, standing just outside one of the plethora of shops littered along the main street. Cautious as ever, for both herself and for this stranger, the snow haired woman takes slow and calculated steps until she deems herself close enough to speak without appearing threatening while not having to speak too loudly.

❛ Might you know what all the commotion is for? ❜

The streets, however, made little to no sense to her, and she found herself getting turned around on more than one occasion, never looking for anything in particular and coming to the edge of the city to look out on sheer white once again before turning back to reorient at the market square, hearing the calls for newspapers, smelling the delicate lilt of white flowers, and hearing the buzz and whir of mechanisms, far off.

It was as much a combination of new and old as her own home, and she wondered faintly if her Master would like it here, if not for the cold.

Shenhe herself remained undecided, although the push and press of military boots hedging bystanders into specific streets was less than hospitable, drawing warnings into her mind and a flare of irritation to her brow. Even after she heard the snuffle and grunt, and the immediate redirect of troop formation to that location, she felt less than kindly about these supposed guards.

The woman who approached caught her peering into the middle distance, cautious, but locking gazes with the subject of the Silvermanes' attention:

"A bear," Shenhe replied, and pointed. "It's a baby, so they're more likely to be concerned for the mother, wherever she is."

Or would you aim for the circus life in the stars, a performer with eyes wide and mouth popped open—persons, places, cultures, philosophies, and all of the above new to yourself while you find your more ignorant than ever thought? There is always technology advancing where you least expect it so it would be best to follow your fellow minds, butting heads like rams in a game only their cartilage takes damage for. There are chemists who can't cure anything new with stagnation in medicine never good, so why stay and suffer the same injustices when practicing out there amongst the stars.

To choose one and not learn your responsibilities, dues, and courtesies would be one thing—ignorance. While the word might be harsh in how it's used amongst the masses, one lacking certain information or knowledge is not without nostrum or ways of remedy. Behaviors can change and dispositions change. Ignorance is not incurable...

While he sits upon a stool within a medical wing of the IPC implored vintage ships, he also finds that his time under the Destructions algorithm has not dulled his senses anything untoward. His hands are as deft with writing the names of patients and victims, those alike to himself, and his mind is quick to search for any signs of Destruction within his fellows if they even allow it. While Veritas cannot say he's seen every face that graced his section during the tour he was lovingly implored, once again, by familiar voices over his phone—he could not think of any reason to turn them down.

Destruction coding was always fickle in the Simulated Universe and was no doubt one of the few that could leave lasting scars. Emotional and psychological over physical, with the boundary of reality sturdy between them, but not all corrosions start with the body. Minds tainted with notions and stimuli over contamination—it was not unheard of. As he shoos away another patient, the overhead pings with another distress call from space, it thankfully not playing by the grace of the system having already picked up Ernest's beacon to even get here.

His hands stop writing and his eye almost wants to twitch. He wonders if Ernest Cranebill, whose distress call pings his station every hour or two even when properly responded to, would count as anything but an stupid man. Ignorance is not incurable, but stupidity is another beast entirely.

It is during this grace period he sent for someone in particular who had not yet graced the infirmary. She was someone familiar to him only in the way you acquaint yourself to another right before disaster struck, and he would not know her name if the faux manager of the Empyrean had not provided it so readily; but he would surely remember her after all the impositions she took upon herself. Destruction fields are as cancerous as they are malleable—like combustible oil slithering through the waters surface, it incorporates horribly and should be disposed of before it finds its spark and fuel.

He knows his visage is not familiar to her, under his headgear in all its glory. "Miss Shenhe, I know I'm pulling you away from your plans of the evening having sent for you specifically, but it's best not to dawdle with insurances like these." He's unsure if she could recognize him in his regular attire either as he recalls wearing all white and heels, back into his graecia attire in blue and white, but it does little to sway him. "You've been in contact with coding—memories, they might feel like—that we're imposed upon you by a malevolent force. I would like to check up with you on this point, we did get much time together after the fact."

It had been tempting to ignore the summons for being nonsensical, if not vague - at least, she assumed that it was vague and nonsensical, for all the words that she did not quite understand. Algorithm, Fragmentum, etcetera. Shenhe understood the tone of the summons, and the insistence of danger and destruction, but she could not conceive of what it had to do with her until she saw the name in signature.

The doctor had left a better impression at the end than at the start, and Shenhe trusted him to know what he was talking about, just as she had during the final dark moments on that planet. She did not think she would be taking a vacation again soon, if those were the sorts of things that she had to look forward to - presuming that she had done it correctly, in any case.

"It's you that sent for me? And signed the doctor's name?" She squinted briefly at the figure before her, unfamiliar in all ways except posture, but his appearance indicated that he was some sort of fabrication. Perhaps a servant of the doctor's. Shaking her head, she continued, "It doesn't matter. Find him, and he and I can discuss what it is he wants with me."

What kind of idiot would come all this way for such a useless thing? How could they let her, knowing the dangers that lurked outside the city of Ohkema? Did the Goldweaver not have countless baubles that would surpass both quality and luxury floating around? Stunned, he nearly misses the chance to address her.

“I-“ Truthfully, he has never given much thought to whether the living should be free to come and go in Castrum Kremnos. None would dare. His people, even aching to return, would not disobey the wishes of their king. Any outsiders who happen to wander here are equally eager to leave, put it behind them-

Yet this woman comes, looking for something to brush her hair with.

As if it were life and death. “Adeptus,” The word sounds wrong, as if the syllables of it aren’t made to fit on his tongue. “No. But this is my city.”His city, his people, the claim is unmistakable as it passes between them, blocking her new path with crossed arms. “…if it were safe, then many others would walk these halls.” Regret, remorse, but he’s never had time for any of those, giving a pointed glance around them as if to ask- does it look safe to you?

Had she come hours earlier, there would have been waves of titankin to meet her at the gates. He shifts, the metal of his greaves grinding stone as he goes. “Either your comb holds the power of the Titans,” It doesn’t, but if it did, then it would make sense. He would be rid of the agitation boiling behind his eyes. “Or you are a fool, risking your life and valuable resources for a worthless trinket.”

Shenhe stepped back from the abrupt closeness of him, not from fear or being startled, but to allow the space to dip her head and shoulders into a bow, polite and befitting his station as protector of this realm. 

"I understand that I am intruding upon this city, and it is not my intention to stay longer than required." She didn't want to be there either, had not necessarily seen reason to be. For all its swirling darkness and the ghosts that lingered, the danger that it offered, the protections offered to these spaces were under a different jurisdiction than hers, or her master's. 

"But I cannot emphasize enough that this comb cannot stay in this city. Whatever danger it holds in my hands, it would bring ruin in another's, unbound as they are. It is memento of my master, and the rite by which I severed that which was unnecessary." 

It was odd, to have allowed herself to be so vulnerable to a stranger, and if this man were merely a human it would have been unheard of, such an interrogation met with a prompt and violent end. 

But it was as he said: this was his city. 

Here, she lifted her head. The expression on her face remained flat, as it always did, but gently a pinch formed between her brows and her eyes shone with the iron of her will. 

"This is worse. This is far worse." Hands clutch her temple, impossible to prevent the spiral train of thoughts. The worst part of such a trip had to be that they didn't have anywhere to seclude themselves and ride it out. They were in a public park, lamenting past decisions.

Chains of darkness shackles wrists and ribs to the bench, the woman groaning out into her lap, caged by arms. Though old memories did not suddenly resurface, the new ones she could recalled felt surreal. Teetering between so vivid that if she could experience those metal walls and uncomfortable bunk beds once again, and so fictitious that even a child's own ink and paper would be more believable.

Rosy words tickled her eardrums, seeped beneath flamelicked skin and crept over every inch of her body. Head thrust up, she looks around, wishing she could find that angelic figure. But alas, she was nowhere to be found. She is finally calm, those pains fading, as if having worked through her system. Her back finds the bench again, head letting loose the final amount of tension her body held. Eyes scan the dark nights of Penacony, wondering if it were finally over.

That would be too good now wouldn't it?

Eyes set upon the other, looking for words again, yet that surge of timidness presents itself again. Words tug at pursed lips, but cannot make their way out. She looks dazed, gaze quickly dancing down her body and to the paved stones before them. The girl seeks answers in the brick and mortar. No longer pained, but definitely far from what was normal.

She could not answer this honestly, could not find the words to describe the sensation that she felt - that it was something that she always carried with her, the bite and fray of restraint against her skin, gently unraveling with time, that the wrap of the infinite darkness of the sky continued to tuck itself around her like a child's blanket, suffocating every cold clammy breath to the back of her throat. 

She felt hunted. That was the word. The heaviness that descended upon her was fraught with foul intent, thick and miasmic as if it might intimidate her to lay down and die where she was. Shenhe had felt all this before, felt it every day of her life, and it raised her hackles, but instead of a word in response, she could only let out a low sound from the back of her throat, almost a groan, almost a hiss. 

The piece of candy was still in her mouth, disintegrating on her tongue with its too-sweet flavor sinking into every corner of her, tingeing the dark to a more vibrant color of hate until it buzzed against the back of her eyes and brought her heartbeat nearly out of her chest, pattering a furious tattoo against her bones. 

She stood, but the weight pressed her down once more, and she gripped a fist at her side, the half-moon pricks of her nails against her palm enough to draw tiny drops of blood to drop onto the pavement, but rather than ground her, the focus of the pain merely made her bare her teeth in challenge. 

There had never been anything teasing or lighthearted in any of their interactions thusfar – merely taut, cool gazes from a distance, that became less taut, less cool as time had gone on, as the distance had closed. 

The honmoon glimmered delicately, shorn and gossamer overhead, mingling with the city lights and painting the silver sheen of her hair behind her in a rainbow of color only she could see. 

Only she and Sara. 

"If I summoned my spear here, would it even reach your heart?" Her gaze turned to the demon, instinctively seeking out the shimmer of her patterns beneath her collar, knowing that they shone differently at night than during the day, knowing that her own vibrated under her skin, under the layers of clothing that she used to cover it. 

The serious one, the modest one. The one whose red patterns throbbed at the crescendo of every chorus, in time with the pulse of the honmoon. 

Her spear materialized in her hand and she twirled it idly, once, twice, abruptly swinging its weight forward with a gentle half step – halting its tip just before the rise and fall of Sara's chest. 

For every familiar tradition, there was one that was foreign to her – this was something that she understood even in her day to day life in Liyue, but making the journey to Inazuma had emphasized that sensation to a far greater degree. The spirits clung to the very earth here, less as though frightened of what lie beyond or what left behind, and more intense - more rage, more sorrow, more confusion, coalescing into a thrum of energy that felt almost like the greeting of a long lost friend, who had been changed by time and distance. 

Shenhe chose her steps carefully, moving along the gentle paths of the village as its inhabitants ran about and beyond her, moving in a manner so vibrant in contrast to the dull hum of their department that it took her a moment to center herself. 

"Miss?" A girl stopped, turned, cocked her head and squinted as though looking at a true oddity, though not quite being able to put her finger on what was off, merely knowing that something was. Finally, the girl smiled, and pointed. "There are yukata for sale over there!" 

As though the solution were merely to shuck the garments that marked her outsider. Shenhe nodded, regardless, and made her way in that direction, the stall hung with displays of vibrant cotton robes swaying in the early evening breeze. 

"You look lost, young miss," the attendant said kindly, smiling at her, eyes creasing into half-moons. "Would you like suggestions?" 

"If you would like to give them." 

The neutral response seemed not to phase the attendant, who came around and pointed out different patterns, their meanings, lifting this sleeve or that to compare with Shenhe's skintone until they finally decided on a yukata of pale turquoise with vibrant chrysanthemum petals and golden woven balls. 

It was harder to move in than she expected, turning from the stall to stiffen at the presence of another body – no, it wasn't merely the body that gave her pause, but the soul within it, the sound of a thunderclap from faraway and the ruffle of dark feathers. 

It was all that anyone could talk about, was the dire portend of every novel, from beginning to end – neither static nor entirely changing but unequivocally dangerous, if one just looked at these passages, here, encoded throughout all volumes, arrayed in this manner spell out certain -  

Shenhe could not understand it, entirely. When she pressed her senses outward, she could feel nothing more strange than the normal threats, perhaps more murky in the dreamspace, less mundane and more ethereal here – but certainly nothing with such tight reins on the fabric of reality as to bring the lives of all crashing down with...a book? 

She had read it. Or, one of them, rather. There were supposedly many others, different versions, but the one that she had read had seemed straightforward enough that she had deemed it to be as innocuous and nonthreatening as any other novel, and had moved on, disinterested. 

But the people here were insistent. 

"Did you not read the one where the bridge appears overnight?" 

"No," Shenhe replied, crossing her arms. "I read the volume wherein the main character works at a teahouse. This is the one that was available to me." 

"Oh man...a tea house? Does that come before or after the bridge?" 

"There was no bridge." 

"No I know there was no bridge, they're different versions. But does it come before, or after?" 

Shenhe's frown dipped. These sorts of conversations always occurred this way, but that didn't make them less irritating. "There was no bridge. He worked in a tea house. There was chrysanthemum oolong." 

It did not seem to matter how many peaks she leapt from, nor how many canyons she navigated, the open sky had always seemed a world apart from the firm ground beneath her feet. Shenhe was not intimidated by it, knowing that if she put into practice the skills that Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper had shown her from a young age then she would continue to traverse the skies unscathed. 

Still, it seemed, the practice was becoming more and more popular for those who ventured forth, like the traveler and those of the same ilk – those who, certainly, had not had the advantage to learn flight from those who shaped the skies in their image. 

"I need a what?" Shenhe did not blink as she asked, and this might have set a person on edge, but the neatly dressed individual before her simply smiled, bowed at the waist, and gestured her to follow farther into the town of Liyue Harbor. 

"A license, if you please. We cannot abide ill prepared paperwork, and it seems as though these things are out of order for you. If you would follow, we have another licensee who will be refreshing her credentials at the same time. We can address them at once." 

Perplexed but unbothered, Shenhe followed, steps taking them through the labyrinthine staircases until they reached the appropriate office, where another woman awaited. 

"Thank you for waiting, Miss Lawrence. Our other applicant is here. Please, feel free to familiarize yourselves with one another, and we will travel to the examination site." Another bow, and the attendant slid into a closed office. 

"Miss! Miss!" 

The little form jogged along beneath her, a speck in a sea of green rolling hills, struggling to keep up with the brisk pace that her wings had given her in combination with the fresh gusts of wind that had blown her along her course. Shenhe glanced down, watched the figure clutch at their hat as they scrambled along the curving path, the flush in their face as they puffed and panted and continued to yell for her attention, waving occasionally. 

"Miss please come down I need to speak with you!!" 

And that was enough, whatever request the figure might have had of her, the fact remained that she was needed. And so, she dipped, tucked the wings beneath elbows which allowed her to begin dropping quite suddenly from altitude, the wind rushing on all sides of her as she plummeted to the ground before she summoned her Queller to hand and struck forward, slamming into the earth in a spray of turf and grass and gravel. 

The figure, a bright young man in a uniform she didn't recognize the patterns of, coughed and sputtered, shielding his face even as he continued to jog up to her side. "Miss, please, excuse me! But I don't believe that's the proper way to descend from flight! Do you have your license on you? I would like to make sure that you're following the most recent safety protocols, because it seems like wherever you learned - " 

"I learned from Cloud Retainer herself, although these wings aren't real." 

"Huh? Miss? I don't know what school that is - " 

Shenhe's brow pinched, just barely, tuning the rest of the sentence out as the young man began to usher her in the direction of a neat copse of hills where another figure awaited. She learned from one of the most graceful beings in flight – was it that her wings were inherently unsafe, due to their lack of feathers? 

"Now, hold on, gal," he said, placatingly as if to a spooked horse. His feet were moving toward them before he'd even put together a plan, aware that there were way too many eyes on them now. The bar was tucked out of the way of the main lobby, but it was by no means concealed, and there had been pretty of quests milling about nearby. A small crowd now stood gaping at the indecent sight, and from some of their vantage points, it certainly did look like this well-dressed, but off-putting young woman had bent this man backwards over the counter for more than just a conversation. The man in the suit, his glasses askew on his face, kept gurgling something around his clutched collar, his dandy shoes, too smooth and polished, skittering for purchase uselessly against the marble floor.

She wasn't actually hurting him, as far as Boothill could see. The man was a mighty fine actor, however. And another, bigger fellow in a similar suit and glasses stood just inside one of the hallways that branched away from this room, watching the scene unfold from the corner of his eye. This was a delicate situation. And Boothill hated delicate. He had to think fast.

"You wranglin' a hog or tryin'a win yerself a date with this fine gentleman?" Hooking his thumb around his belt, he turned to study the man in the suit, who'd stopped squirming now to stare back at both of them with what looked like fear, but there was a quick, nearly unnoticed glance over the young woman's shoulder to the bigger man lurking in the hallway that spoke of something more premeditated than that. Still, Boothill pretended like this was just some innocent misunderstanding. He could act, too, when it came down to it.

She frowned, the slightest crease in her brow, but she relented nonetheless, stepping back and loosening but not entirely relinquishing her hold against the man's throat. Her eyes narrowed infinitesimally, before she said, with emphasis, "I am not interested in a date with you."

And then she stepped back.

It had not been meant to be a spectacle, but in the space they occupied there would of course be others, and the sensation of eyes upon her began to press more firmly, as though jolted with static electricity, and the sound of a whisper muffled by a hand. Shenhe's gaze swiveled, instinctively looking for the source, and found the gaze of a sympathetic old woman in a heavily beaded dress, patting the arm of her escort for him to bend down, murmuring to the handsome young man before shaking her head in disproval at the scene that had unfolded.

"Young ladies can't go anywhere these days," the old woman croaked, striking her fingers in the direction of the suited man, as though striking flint, and gestured for her escort to continue his job at being paraded around the gala.

The crease in Shenhe's brow deepened, and her head turned back as though on instinct to her companion as though seeking explanation, before she heard the click of heels on the slick floor, and the gentle cough of someone seeking attention.

"Excuse me." A mousy man, bespectacled, and flanked by two more in matching suits. "I hope there's not been a problem. Yves was just about to step outside for a moment of fresh air," he added, pointedly, to Shenhe's erstwhile victim, who stiffened. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

The spirits of this land held a different flavor to her mind's eye, not the dignified and sharp cuts of her master, nor the crag and spike of the other Adepti – but a slinking feeling, bristling tail fur brushing across her skin as the lithe forms of the fox curled about her one moment, disappeared in a puff of flame the next, tittering delicate fufufus in her ear as they glided about her in the fog. 

The only anchor she had was the pinprick of their eyes, distant in spite of being directly beside her, such that when she reached a hand forward she could only hear the echoing whisper of laughter once more. 

Shenhe frowned, but looked at the tightly bound scroll in her hand. She had been advised not to open it, that she would find the envoy would carry the means to read its message and to present one for her in turn. 

"What does the message contain?" 

The eyes in the mist had arced, silvery little half-moons of delight, and she heard that chuffing, delicate laughter once more. "Instructions," the voice had said, "or perhaps more like a shopping list. Everything you need to complete the ceremony, but we expect that you will figure it out as you go along. Your kind always does, don't they?" 

She didn't know what that meant, but her understanding was that the spirits needed a link, something to allow them to bridge the great rift they had created over the centuries. If the delicate little beads dangling from the scroll were any indication, the ceremony was long-awaited. 

Her steps forward were uncertain, not out of any personal insecurities, but out of the sheer density of the fog, each step a threat to take her into a den she might need to fight out of, and each footfall the relief of continuing to feel firm earth beneath her. Inazuma was somehow claustrophobic and constraining, and simultaneously open vacant space, a question mark in her heart. 

A bright spot broke through the fog, curls of golden sunlight breaking, but only momentarily. Shenhe took a breath, squinted into the middle distance.