"Please. Nagano-sama. These...brutal gaijin. Were they a man and two women? The man would have been a big half-elf, an archer...""That was them..They obeyed my wishes for no blood within the temple..and did defend the temple at a time when it was nearly defenseless. But their methods were ...brutal. So you know them? They said they expected to find someone here. I thought they meant you..be that that for good or ill."
"Yes. Those were Naradil, Gwen and Fezza. They are...well they belong to Earanthil, really, but Earanthil's whole team -- those three, Gilly, Earanthil and Ghar -- are currently retained as Eru's protection on this journey. Trust me when I say that were it not for them, we would not be here right now. But traveling with them is...quite trying. Madame Curator I am so sorry, if they behaved at all inappropriately. I told them no trouble in the city walls, but apparently that is too much for them to handle. I will have Earanthil speak with them." He looks over at where the pretty-boy sorcerer is sitting, causing poor Akiko fits as she tries to flirt with both him and Kyras at the same time.
As her question hangs in the air for everyone to consider, Eru looks at Yohei. She angles her head quizzically, and some of her platinum hair falls over her eyes. "Yohei. Hello. I'm Eru. You remind me of...you know, are you from Mamban, too? Like Ros-I mean, Azami? You look like one of the Shadowborn, a little bit."
Rhon sighs and looks at Eru. "He does not look like a Shadowborn. You just think that because they are the only tengu you know. You've never met the Frostborn, or the Woodswards, or any of the other tribes..." He smiles at the young princess with obvious brotherly affection. "...though I have no doubt you will."
"Well...one thing I know Princess, is I can paint your vision from memory, for I had a similar vision last night...that involved some disturbing things...but also took me to a mountain top where I watched the dawn with Azazmi..not knowing it was Azazmi, of course. She was bound to the mountain..her feet in ice and earth...and there was a ...yuifan bush.."[b] Tokine raises her eyebrow, and her cup, in salute to the Princess and Azami. "[b]"Daiyu-san is too wise to be running a tea shop.... Taking a big sip and smiles, No, I do not mean that for a second..she is exactly where she is needed most.
Tokine smiles into the cup of tea and takes a satisfying sip before offering a everyone a place at the low table. The tea does wonders to calm her and ground her frayed nerves. "Do not change a thing. You have done very well my dearest."
Azami watches Tokine drink the tea, and a grimness fills her expression. The sound of the jackdaw causes her to look towards the doorway, uncertain.
When the topic turns to dreams, she is paying very close attention. "Azazi, you say you stand on a mountain top facing east. Every morning..facing east...and yet this morning, you were not there?...So you were not standing with your feet encased in ice and rock...?" Tokine seems to drift off a bit in thought, but then come back into focus at Azazi, "The tea? What do you think of the tea?" Her face showing genuine interest in the answer.
Azami's tone is steely towards the Curator, pushed past her meager ability to play games of courtesy and subterfuge - she is certain the woman says her name incorrectly on purpose as a hidden slight. "My name is Azami. No. I am not on a mountain facing east. That is the honored Princess' dream. I am facing east. But I am d--lying on the ground. I think. It is not clear where I am, and it is hardly important where I am - what is important is the sunrise."
"However, last night I dreamt of a red dragon - an evil dragon - larger than the city, curled around this temple, and his invitation still echoes in my ears. 'WOULD YOU LIKE SOME TEA?" Azami raises her voice as if to emulate the all-encompassing loudness and depth of the dragon's voice.
Kyras enjoys the tea, far more than usual. His attention is wrested by the mention of Rosalyn Portnoy, whose name is written on a scrap of paper in his pocket. "Rosalyn Portnoy? I've heard that name before, but I am not blessed to know nearly enough of the Empire's citizens. Who is she?"
Kyras certainly has more than an idle interest in Rosalyn Portnoy.
"Portnoy!" Eru says, looking at Azami a little shocked. "That's why I know you. You were Gregor's daughter, no? *sigh* I always envied you. You were so lucky, you always got to go places..." She then brings herself up short as the last part of Azami's statement sinks in. "Wait. Your dream...my vision...they're...they're the same! But how can that be?!" She looks helplessly at Rhon, then at Tokine. "What does this mean?"
That the princess would know her and her family is surprising; everyone in Mamban knows House del Solarion. If Erudima wasn't so clearly genuine, she might glare at the elf; instead she merely widens her eyes. "Yes, Gregor is my father. That Erudima speaks of her father in the past tense is not heartening.
It means you are a part of whatever I am to do, Azami thinks to herself, wondering what the elf and Tokine will say.
Eru looks at Azami, her mouth forming a shocked little "o" and her eyes wide with shock. "Oh. You mean...you don't know...you didn't hear..."
Rhon also looks at Azami, empathy clear on his face and compassion in his voice when he says "...oh by the Hunter's bow. Why now..."
This. This is what she wanted to avoid. Azami sighs and says to Kyras, "I am Rosalyn Portnoy. Where have you heard that name?" But then, she considers that Yohei had also heard the name from the gaijin in the woods, and she regards Kyras warily, wondering if his story about being attacked in a warehouse was the truth.
"Yes. Those were Naradil, Gwen and Fezza. They are...well they belong to Earanthil, really, but Earanthil's whole team -- those three, Gilly, Earanthil and Ghar -- are currently retained as Eru's protection on this journey. Trust me when I say that were it not for them, we would not be here right now. But traveling with them is...quite trying. Madame Curator I am so sorry, if they behaved at all inappropriately. I told them no trouble in the city walls, but apparently that is too much for them to handle. I will have Earanthil speak with them." He looks over at where the pretty-boy sorcerer is sitting, causing poor Akiko fits as she tries to flirt with both him and Kyras at the same time."Please. Nagano-sama. These...brutal gaijin. Were they a man and two women? The man would have been a big half-elf, an archer...""That was them..They obeyed my wishes for no blood within the temple..and did defend the temple at a time when it was nearly defenseless. But their methods were ...brutal. So you know them? They said they expected to find someone here. I thought they meant you..be that that for good or ill."
Tokine lays her hand on Rhon's arm to stop him. "No please...they did no wrong...as I said, matters would have been worse had they not interfered by crossing your word. I am greatly indebted to them as is Izumi, who would have died if I could not reach her in time. Actually.... I would have likely died as well, as their were nearly a dozen of them. Please do not be cross with them...they were my...saviors..yesterday. Her tone had taken on a slow wispy quality, but she ends with a shake and a humorous smile, "And although they did not like to hear me say it, I saw some beauty through their rough exteriors."
Tokine lays her hand on Rhon's arm to stop him. "No please...they did no wrong...as I said, matters would have been worse had they not interfered by crossing your word. I am greatly indebted to them as is Izumi, who would have died if I could not reach her in time. Actually.... I would have likely died as well, as their were nearly a dozen of them. Please do not be cross with them...they were my...saviors..yesterday. Her tone had taken on a slow wispy quality, but see ends with a shake and a humorous smile, "And although they did not like to hear me say it, I saw some beauty through their rough exteriors."
Rhon sighs with plainly evident relief, then shares in the laugh. "I would be too terrified to tell Gwen or Naradil, but Fezza. Heh. Fezza I think would be quite flattered, loathe though she might be to admit it."
The realization of what Rhon and Erudima are trying not to say washes over her like the haze of battle; her head fills with the hollowness of the crash of steel and screams of warriors, her pulse teeming in her ears. She might stagger if she didn't feel rooted in place, cold threading up her legs and into her chest where it causes her ribs to ache in the hair-trigger tension of her pain. Her hands curl into tight fists at her sides.
Azami's colourless eyes sweep between the two elves in a stunned silence. She feels the words crawling inside her, her throat locking to thwart their escape, holding the truth close so she will not have to say it, will not have to add her family's names to the list of the dead. She cannot help but stare at the elves, in horrified wonder at their beautiful faces and terrible words.
When finally she speaks, it feels as if a century has passed, and her throat is as rough as if she had been swallowing the embers of a fire. Dazed, Azami leaves all protocol behind as she croaks, Erudima del Solarion, Rhon Tai. She pauses, trying to wet her mouth, "I would know what you know of my family."
Yohei looks from Azami to Kyras to the foreigners, utterly confused by the new developments. When the revelation of Azami's loss becomes clear however, he moves up alongside the samurai and places a clawed talon on her shoulder for support. In an uncharacteristically solemn voice just loud enough for her to hear, he whispers, "Azami-san, I- I'm sorry. I stand by you in whatever comes to pass."
** spoiler omitted **
Kyras glances from Azami to the others, not wanting to interrupt the very delicate situation. Azami is likely about to receive some very unfortunate news. While he isn't remarkably fond of the woman who is so intent on bringing him in, he doesn't wish the pain of bad news on her. His disappearance surely caused his own family more than enough pain, so he quite keenly feels sympathy for her.
He leans over to Tokine and quietly whispers to her, "Do you trust her? Who was her father?"
In a whisper back, "I do not know her except from a dream I had last night. Similar to one she speaks of. But as to who she is or her family, I can only assume they are from the west, like the Princess."
Imuri mulls over his coming day as he enters the darkened alley well past time for late tea. No matter, since tea is the last thing on his mind. Disguised as a drunken beggar, he feigns interest in several dark corners as if he intends to simply collapse there until the magistrates take him.
When he finds the dirty hovel buried under discarded, sewn-together kimonos, he pushes the filthy drapes aside with his saya and enters the makeshift house.
You live in style, as always, bonge. The word is emphasized to remind the unpleasant sinner before him of her station. I have another opportunity for you to erase the stain of the maho you practice. Or do you intend death?
After handing the shriveled old woman a small vial, Imuri whispers to her for a few more seconds. Having been satisfied, he turns and leaves in the middle of her reply. He stops just outside the door and throw a few ceramic tokens on the ground, marked with the crest of fallen House Mingo. Tomorrow afternoon, then. And dress as the clean ronin you once were before you return to your opium and black magic.
Rhon gives Eru a significant look, then glances around the table, aware of the extreme and unfortunate awkwardness of what was transpiring. He sighs. "In the end, Ros- er, Azami...we know only the following; two months ago your father was contracted to take a shipment of weapons and armor east around the cape and through Katapesh to help arm H'arun. This was an extremely dangerous voyage, and he knew it. House del Solarian bankrolled it and provided warriors to help protect the ship. There are privateers, you see, allied with the black dragonflight, led by Erinyes in many cases and in league with the...fouler...creatures of the deep, and these privateers, these pirates, have been waylaying ships, sometimes destroying them, sometimes not, sometimes slaying the crew, and sometimes...not."
He pauses. "Your father's ship never arrived in Katapesh. Faradwenni boatsmen spotted him last approaching the Isla des las Mil Voces, that accursed place, but then he did not pass the Straits of Faradwenn. No wreckage was found, nothing -- no one -- washed ashore. They simply vanished."
Rhon looks Azami in the eyes. "I know it doesn't seem like much, but there is still hope; hope that he and possibly others still live, stranded on an island, simply waiting for a Faradwenni guard group or fishing party, or another ship, to come within hailing distance."
"There...there is still that hope."
In a whisper back, "I do not know her except from a dream I had last night. Similar to one she speaks of. But as to who she is or her family, I can only assume they are from the west, like the Princess."
Kyras returns Tokine's whisper, so close that he can smell some strange perfume on her. "Is it this tense and dramatic every time people sit down for tea here?" He offers an almost imperceptible wink to her.
"This is tea...now let me work.. " Tokine motions to Izumi and they have a private word and Izumi leaves. Presently in an courtyard nearby, several voices can be heard singing softly, a solemn sad song full of grief yet hope for a brighter tomorrow due to sacrifice. Plucked strings and a slow drum join the voices. The song does not interfere with the conversation, but it is there, comforting and inspiring those who listen to the words and feel the melody.
Turning back to Kyras, but in a voice all can here. "It is The Lament for the 5000. An old song, originally sung by those who awaited family back from the the frontier during a long forgotten war. The war has been forgotten, but not their grief."
Yohei's claw on her shoulder elicits a sense of fondness in Azami - a long forgotten feeling - as well as gratitude. It is almost too much to feel at once after the repeated emotional assaults of this day.
To Rhon and Erudima, Azami nods, a curt jerk of a movement; the awkwardness of airing her personal matters before these people begins to replace the tense hollowness with growing self-consciousness. "Thank you, Rhon. Hope is all that is left, and it seems hope may be a sunrise. We should perhaps speak of that, she glances at Tokine, who is speaking with another woman, and shared dreams.
As the music begins, Azami swallows hard and presses her lips together to a thin line, the rims of her eyes nearly as red as her hair. She bows her head to Tokine quickly, avoiding her gaze. She doesn't know if Tokine arranges for the music to torture her more, or honor her grief; likely the intention is the latter, although the music is successful in both.
@Imuri:
After making your way home and completing the night's ablutions, you quickly fall into a deep and restful sleep...
You are swallowed whole.
You are on a heath, and you cannot move. It is the field outside the palace. A sleek little brown bird is badly hurt at your feet. A large black cat plays cruelly with it, batting it around before killing it by biting it near in half. Then a large and frighteningly muscled dog with red fur pounces on the cat, shattering its spine, and begins messily to devour it. You shield your eyes from the arterial spray...
...and when you pull your arm down, you are in a beautiful place, a dead place. The tomb is littered with skeletons, cluttering the perfectly balanced tile floor. There is a sarcophagus with midnight-blue stones set at certain points along its length. Metal men stand in the corners of the room, their strange swords stained brown. A force pulls you up and out, then, and you see you were on an island, far away from the empire. You are set on a hill. A giant creature, a western dragon with scales of perfect gold, its body the size of a small city and its head the size of a mansion, regards you, and you exult at the beauty that is its muscled, scaly and elegant form. Its aura surrounds you, filling you with peace and calm. Its voice is the rumble of the earth, the purring of a cat, the distant thunder of a storm passed, bringing with it new flowers: "THE STONES, SHOTO. THE STONES."
You awake.
The music of Shelyn's chosen helps to mitigate the strange mood that has descended over those assembled for tea, but a certain solemnity cannot be completely shaken.
"*CHYAK-CHYAK! JYAK-JYAK! ch-ch-ch-ch. ch. ch.* offers the Jackdaw helpfully.
The morning kata is a welcome event for Shoto Imuri. So many details, so many pieces of what appears to be a grand puzzle, like single flashes in his mind. His katana spins and slashes and thrusts in the acrobatic, deceitful style his family teaches. He remembers words of power taught by Yohuro-sama, meant to focus his mind. He remembers a fleeing tengu and a trail of blood. As he executes a flawless parry against the memory, the brief flashes become adversaries. He must best every detail, forgetting nothing. His sword sweeps up and the trail of blood leads not to a tengu, but to a broken bird. A side kick crashes into an open maw of darkness and living steel. The face becomes a black dragon, mighty and fearsome, but still kicked away by Shoto resolve.
At the kata's center, Imuri stands on a single toe, balancing his last strike-and-leap. The katana is perfectly still for a void moment, neither swinging with momentum nor reversing with over correction. In that imperceptible fraction of a second, time stops. Imuri's blade is still.
His mind is still.
The blade lowers slowly, as the samurai exercises perfect control over its descent - not yielding to gravity, and not pushing the air so much that the blade leans left or right. As the sword falls slowly, a perfect vertical line is drawn - a white room of death on one side, the details of Imuri's dream both there and not there. On the left is a shadowed figure, the yeng to death's yin. A darkness inhabited by a nameless challenge. The shadow takes form and a black-clad ninja appears, its murderous grace a threat, even as the white room on the left forms into another ninja with a flawless white kimono and painted nails.
Imuri slashes left - a crippling strike meant to stun the lesser opponent while he faces the other. The black ninja falls, clutching his side. The figure that lands no longer wears black, but is clad in the dull gray and brown of a simple dojo. The ronin clutches helplessly at his sword, revealing a tsuba with a crescent moon and seven stars.
The traces are fleeting, details committed to Imuri's memory even as he turns from the fallen form and faces the greater ninja. Aki-Kirei stares back at him. She is poised to duel, but she does not seem to want to. She smiles at him sweetly, and stretches out her hand. But Shoto loyalty ironically comes at the price of trust. Imuri feints with his outstretched fingers before his left hand circles his grandfather's blade behind him. The blade, concealed by their games of friendship, reached the Sera's neck, at which point her faces melts into that of the older sister's. Her cold blue eyes narrow in understanding as Imuri sheds their hold on him. When he steps into his blow, he crushes her body with his own, resulting in myriad sensations.
The woman that falls away from him is not one of the Sera, but a gaijin Princess. Young, uncertain, and falling. Her surprise is revealed in tears. As Imuri reaches out to catch her, the azure orbs fall from her face and become two dark blue stones. They land in his hands in the form of tears, but when he opens his palm, they are round, like the stones from his dream.
Reality returns. Younger Shoto students are gathereed around, watching the scion of a great house of ninja and courtiers practice his morning routine. They are gape-mouthed as plum blossoms float over the courtyard and circle Imuri. He realizes he is crouched in perfect form, his blade held at the small of his back, his taut body leaning forward on the balls of carefully placed feet. From this position, he could enter another advanced kata, the blade pointing straight up to fall in a backwards slash should there be enemies behind him, or rotating and coming straight out in front, the silver tip obscured by the sleeves of his morning kimono.
Imuri's mind needs only a second to decide. His priorities are resolved, and the many details of his day ordered. His mind is firm, and his day has begun with certainty. He stands wordlessly and walks through the parting river of younger samurai, imparting his confidence to each of them as he passes.
A day of victory has begun.
Tokine bows her head to Azami and holds it for an extended moment. Looking up. "I am embarrassed by my earlier failings with remembering your name. The shame is mine as I meant no disrespect, I can offer the stress of the past two days as an excuse, but to you, I can only offer my forgiveness in this matter. And my sorrow at the news of your father." She ends with another low bow. There are the reflection of tears in her eyes as she sees Azami's grief.
"But yes...visions and dreams. You see Azami, you were meant to be here today. To have tea with me..and the Princess. That part of my dream is clear. I saw you...watching the sunrise..perhaps the place does not matter, as you say...I stood with you on a mountain top facing east...but you were paralyzed..your feet encased in ice and stone. Between us, the a bush, the source of the tea I first sampled yesterday and had provided for today's service. So when you walked in the door to our temple this morning, I was a bit taken aback that dreams could have such immediate portent, as I recognized you although we had never met.."
"My portion of this sequence that seems different is your feet trapped in ice and stone...perhaps I can, in some way, help set you free."
"But your latest vision is very odd. For while I am serving tea...I am no dragon lady." Akiko titters out a little giggle. "And other than costumes used in parade celebrations or painted on silk, I know of no dragons here."
I, to, drreamed of being on a mountain. But I was facing west, with two figurres on a farr peak facing me and east.
A grreat voice behind me spoke of change and cleansing.
I drreamed of you two indicates Azami and Yohei apprroaching a pit you did not see.
Therre was a drragon on this temple.
The Inspectorr sat, pale and with eyes of of blue light, in a larrge rroom.
A man, winged, sat beforre a winged woman disrrobing, while he ate an apple.
These visions trrouble me.
Disarmed by the solemn mood, Yohei gives Azami's shoulder a squeeze and steps forward, "That's funny, I had a weird dream last night too! I was flying around the mountains and I ended up in a huge city full of winged Tengu. There was a red dragon in my dream too, but he was a real friendly guy. Dragons aren't all bad, are they? Hey Azami-san, maybe the dragon in your dream was just being cordial-like? I mean, I'm sure dragons like to have tea as well and it makes sense that a friendly type dragon might want your company, yeah?" Smiling back at his friend, Yohei does his best to turn the mood more cheerful.
Turning back to Kyras and the others, he smiles again, "So anyway, I say we have a nice relaxing cup of tea... maybe some sake and some lunch... and then we can head back to the Palace. You're not in trouble or anything, big guy, really! The Captain just wanted us to bring you back and from the sound of things, keep you safe, so that you can attend the state dinner tonight. Azami-san still has your invitation afer all."
@Imuri: Directly at sunrise, the servants inform you that the Princess and her escort have arrived, and sure enough when you use one of the many one-way windows in House Shoto for taking a quick peek in the parlor, waiting there is Rhon Tai, looking quite well cleaned up, and much more relaxed than he did when formally caparisoned for last night's State Dinner, and of course the princess. It appears only the two of them have come.
Elves are not overly common in the Empire, and even less so in Lanzhu. Only the bitter and brutal Enhathladi, loved and reviled and feared and respected all in equal measure, come with any frequency, and when they do it is always simply to sell their wares of death and terror, and their visits are quite short, by mutual consent amongst all parties involved.
Because of this lack of exposure, perhaps, the Princess' beauty is particularly affecting. Dressed in pure white leathers, studded with a golden metal and with the standard of Sarenrae emblazoned with astonishing good taste over her heart, she is an ethereal vision, an alien beauty of unmatched radiance. The servants linger on her, and it is clear from her manner and perfect posture -- even if that posture is western and strange, it is still obviously perfect -- that she is one quite used to being deferred to and waited on, and handles the obsequiousness of footmen and geisha with grace and ease. A rare, divine creature, she. If those present at the Dinner last night could have seen what you are seeing now, they would have a completely different opinion of her.
Rhon sits a short distance away, and his sharp eyes are missing nothing, or at least nothing Clan Shoto wouldn't want him to miss, anyway. A scholar and art lover, he is drinking in every detail of the perfectly appointed parlor in the Shoto City House, weighing the merits of construction vs. comfort vs. aesthetics and from the look on his face coming to an agreeable decision. He, too, appears oddly comfortable around treatment befitting a royal visitor, yet you do not recall having heard that he was a noble, simply a well-connected and highly regarded traveling scholar.
The two elves share a wry smile as they sip tea, clearly having grown closer in a familial manner for their travels together. And together, they await your arrival.
At Tokine's apology, Azami gives a tight nod. She is no longer angry, but still entirely uncomfortable around the insanely beautiful Curator, unable to fathom her grace or the world she lives in; Azami feels Tokine's caring is wasted on someone like her.
Must push this pain aside. Azami squares her shoulders
She listens to the dreams as they are related, and turns to Yohei with a firmness and certainty in her voice that feels comforting, strengthening. "Red dragons are always evil. Always. Utter and completely, evil." Her gaze takes in Tokine and San Pen as well, now, "Perhaps not a literal dragon, but the plans of a red dragon have brought us together here - I cannot trust such a summons would lead to good fortune. If San Pen sees both Yohei and I walking towards a pit unknowing, perhaps it is our arrival here that is our fall into that pit. That the red dragon appeared around the temple to Sifu as well makes me even more wary of the tea. She shrugs at Tokine apologetically."I know little of lore or the yuifan, or the meaning in dreams besides how I feel when I am in them. A red dragon seems, to me, a warning."
As for a winged man, both Yohei and I have met a winged man. And Sifu - the sunrise, when I dream of it, it is a new day. A fresh day, untouched. Would that be cleansing?
How do you picture it? It's your temple so I'd rather go with what you think, if you have a preference.
Imuri sends in courtiers to announce his presence after a suitable waiting period. He strides in with an apparent forced smile, as if he has been busy for some time before dawn. When he sees the beauty of the Princess, he allows himself to soften a bit - visibly. Every word and gesture is orchestrated to convey his words with courtesy and sincerity.
It is my honor to host you for morning rice, my friends. Finally, with all that has happened in the last few days, I have an opportunity to express my interest in your journey here.
Imuri allows the servants tou bring in the formal tea set, but then stop the young courtier from serving the gaijin. If I may, it is a rare privelege to perform our moshin - our formal tea party for honored guests. It is our way of illustrating the importance of the guests in our midst, since we undertake the ceremony so rarely.
The tea set prepared for the gaijin has two flawless alabaster cups, with Imuri's cup being black with the green spider symbol embossed on the bottom of the cup - both inside and out. The white candles smell of honey and crushed lavender, and give the tea a pleasant and complicated aftertaste.
The Shoto believe that a sweet tea in the morning prepares you for a day of victory. I believe among some gaijin people, there is the expression "Life is short, have dessert first". Though we in the Empire of Mists always save our fruit for last, this tea falls under the same principle.
Imuri's actions are calculated - how much do they watch the tea ceremony on the table? How does the scent affect them? Do they find it interesting no one else has performed such a ritual for them? He studies their eyes and expression, always matching them with an innocent and patient smile. When he holds his sleeve away as he pours, his fingers rub the hard steel of the shuriken hidden within his voluminous robes. His fingers linger there only a second as he pours perfect half-cups of honeyed tea and then allows the servant girl to serve himself. While she does so, he continues.
The tea ceremony is like bushido. It is different somewhat from one house to another, but the expectation of the ceremony is universal within our lands, and the standards are high. In Lanzhu, you must be careful to note that everything has a purpose, every movement, every promise or gesture. Take for example... here he lifts his finished cup and enjoys the rich perfume from the candle-smoke clinging to its purpose. He waits for his guests to raise their cups to their lips, and finishes his statement before he imbibes.
...the suggestion that the Princess wear an open kimono to high court.
"I thank you, Imuri-san, this is an honor, and it is interesting to see how the different houses perform their tea services, as opposed to the emperor, and the merchants, and the generals. Captain Takagami had rather an entertaining ceremony involving an archer." She giggles girlishly, remembering something. She pays only moderate attention to the motions involved in the ritual, her eyes still darting about the room and appreciating the details there. When her cup is full, she takes her time smelling the tea, closing her eyes and concentrating, clearly enjoying every second of it.
Rhon sits back lightly and scrutinizes every single detail of everything Imuri does, obviously cataloging every motion and nuance for later consideration -- clearly this is something he is used to doing. His eyes deviate not a bit from his task at hand, even as Eru speaks and continues to look distractedly about.
When Imuri mentions Bushido, Rhon's eyes suddenly narrow, but he says nothing.
"...the suggestion that the Princess wear an open kimono to high court."
Eru had just taken a nice and full sip when Imuri let this bomb drop, and she suddenly swallows wrong and coughs and splutters, setting her cup down in a hurry and apologizing through her coughs. Presently, she regains her composure and smile sheepishly.
"Point well taken, Shoto Imuri." she says with a respectful bow.
"...the suggestion that the Princess wear an open kimono to high court."
Rhon placed his cup near his mouth and inhaled deeply, but took no drink. As Imuri speaks, he in fact lowers the cup ever-so-slightly. As Erudima splutters and coughs, the rogue scholar gives Imuri a small and knowing smile.
"Indeed." he intones, then takes a small sip of his tea. His eyes never leave Imuri's as he does so, though he gazes not threateningly, but questingly. The scholar is seeking knowledge, the rogue is seeking leverage.
At Tea:
Eru looks at Azami. "In my vision -- which was a waking vision, experienced in Solku after a morning's meditation with Lady Cynore -- there was indeed a feeling of health, of hope, of being cleansed and renewed, of having a blank slate. I have been trying very hard to discern its meaning. I thought for sure the Empire was involved somehow. The silver in my vision reminded me of the veins of silvery metal that live in the rock in some of the mountains out here -- mithral, adamantine, silver, ore, others..."
Kyras tries his very best to not look guilty or concerned when they mention a red dragon. In the back of his mind, he feels the Dragon awaken lazily. He immediately begins constructing his vigilant mental barriers. This is the absolute wrong time for the Dragon to attempt to take control. What if Tokine sees what he harbors inside and finds him horrifying? What if it validates what Azami must think of him and they bring him in shackles or worse back to the Palace? 'No, Dragon. Go back inside,' he thinks to his cruel alter ego.
Looking to change the subject from the Dragon's interest, he turns to Azami and puts on his most charming face. "I hate to pry, but do you know my sister Bethany Erodal? I recently came into possession of some of her belongings and found a few names written down there. That is how I've heard the name Rosalyn Portnoy. There was another name, a Daveth Ashvale." Looking at Yohei, he sarcastically asks, "I don't suppose that's your secret name, is it?"
Young artisans in formal dress occupy the far corner of the room, playing their biwa and flutes quietly. The careful design of the room allows the Shoto to entertain his guests in pleasant fashion, while the bamboo arches decorating the rice paper vibrate with the music and make listening beyond the paper walls all but impossible.
From his seat at the head of the table, Imuri notes the gaijin's reluctance to drink the tea without first seeing all others taste. It prompts immediate judgment in the samurai. Is Rhon Tai really of higher station than the Priness? Does he practice duplicity by allowing her to drink first? The Shoto have often sent fledgling courtiers under the protection of yojimbo masters, and have even ordered important guardians to allow their charge to be poisoned first so they have the wits ro retaliate and then administer antidotes. Interesting...
Imuri waves his hand with a flourish while savoring a mouthful of honey-and-lavendar tea. To outsiders, it seems as if he is experiencing an intensely pleasant taste, but only seconds afterward, a new flute player arrives - a young girl in formal dress, but set apart from her peers. Her jewelry is more subtle, and her hair is worn long. She wears a fabulous sarong, which clings to her supple body and reveals lean thighs when she sits on a large, green pillow to play. Though she is appropriate, her dress, her movement, even her position in the room is designed to attract the notice of the Princess' attendant. When the biwa and cymbals begin a quiet accompaniment, the young girl plays a soulful song, her passion conveyed through closed eyes and pursed lips.
Imuri allow a few seconds of quiet for the song. I do not intend any disrespect, Princess, he continues. I point out simply that there are no accidents nor innocuous statements within this city. Every piece of advice given you serves an agenda. Surely you understood last night that the Sera sisters have acted both to maintain their prior relationship with you, as well as embarrass you publically. It is a compliment, in a way. It may simply serve to keep other noble houses from being interested in you so as to preserve Sera favor in your eyes, and mitigate distractions. Here he checks to see if the young lady attracts Rhon's attention in the same way as the Sera sisters or the young ladies at the formal dinner.
Imuri sets his tea cup upside down, then moves to refill the cups of his guests. Such a maneuver will impact several houses. They will be more dismissive of you, and thus your requests, because of your faux pas. But a few houses, most notably the Shoto, will not fall for such things. Instead, I offer you a demonstration of Shoto loyalty. A means of knowing to what extent you can count on my family should we strike a bargain.
As the Princess describes her vision, Azami listens, eyes staring off towards the east unconsciously. Quietly, "To me it is iron." and then, "So you have had this vision only once?"
Her distant look vanishes as Kyras speaks; grey-blue eyes snap to him pointedly and she actually turns to face him, deeming his sarcasm to Yohei as disrespect. Cooly, she says, "The brother of Bethany Erodal is an honored and welcome guest of the Palace, which is why we are here to escort you there, as Yohei indicates. I, however, do not know your sister. Or why she would have my name. Or why anyone has my old name. It is not a secret, but it is hardly important."
"I dreamed of other things, also. A...a boat. A fountain of plum blossoms and moonstone; cranes ate the moonstone, and koi ate the blossoms. Hands of stone impervious to bites, and to the fire of the red dragon that surrounds this temple. In the dream, the dragon attacks me, setting the whole of the world on fire. Inviting me to tea is...its challenge." Azami shifts her weight in her stance uncomfortably; speaking of dreams feels foolish, like a child relating her nightmares. She understands none of these hidden meanings beyond the obvious immediate connections.
The sunrise is different. Somehow, the sunrise is real, instead of symbolic.
As Azami speaks, Tokine shares a look with San Pen and then Rhon. What is going on exactly?...how can so much the past day's event be now flowing across this table?..and then she stops...remembering the first part of her dream.
"Some of what you speak of, does make sense to me. But strangely, only Sifu San Pen, Rhon, or I would have any inclination of recognizing this. Unfortunately the Inspector would have known more, but he was killed for this knowledge. The sign of the plum blossom and the sign of the Moon and Stars are behind the attacks upon myself and this temple."
"And in another part of my dream last night, I tried to eat a plum branch resplendent in blossoms..I know it is silly, but it is all tied in somehow...and San Pen..in Azami's dream, perhaps it is your hands that are impervious..but in mine...the night creatures ..had an effect on you." She closes he eyes and lowers her head, unable to continue looking at her friend. "I would have said it was just a dream..but now..."
How do you picture it? It's your temple so I'd rather go with what you think, if you have a preference.
Hadn't put too much thought into it until your question yesterday. Let's see...
Large double doors open into a high roofed reception hall. To the left will be admin offices for Tokine and Izumi and a hallway. to the right storerooms for display staging material and a hallway.
Straight ahead, is a large open display room, with a large open meditative garden beyond that with art that can withstand the elements.
The hallway to the left leads to the staff quarters, with bath house and two gardens, one for training and one for private meditation.
Adjacent to the central garden on the left will be the healing rooms.
The hall way to the right leads to the artist studios, a garden for outdoor work, equipment and supply storage. The kitchens, with their noise, will be off their own garden, full or vegetables and herbs, away from the displays.
Guest rooms will be on the right on the central garden.
The large room we are currently meeting in is screened off from the back side of the central meditative garden. This pavilion has many shifting walls to accommodate rooms of differing needed size. Also a winding display of art can be arranged for one to walk through and contemplate works in isolation. Behind this is a stone structure used for the housing of art not currently on display.
so...not like I put any thought into it. :-p
@Tokine: