XXXI. Afterglow
In the end, you do lie down and sleep, snuggled up to Blue's back.
You are not woken early by the clashing of thunder or the scream of the wind or the rain against the shutters. You are not woken by any of these because they are no longer present. As a result, it is past noon by the time you stir and that is only because there is a rapping at your door from a servant.
As you dress, your shoulder makes itself painfully known. If you were merely human, you'd be in a lot more pain, but you're a dragon-child. It's just something to be aware of. And the nasty herbal gunk they put on it might have hurt and left you light-headed, but there's no sign of infection.
"Darling," you tell Blue, "stay here. And look human, in case there are any servants who poke their heads in."
He nods, heavy-lidded and bed-headed. "As you wish. And I will convey you where you wish on a mighty steed."
You kiss him. "That's nice, darling." Pausing at the door, you notice he's re-spun a human-like appearance, but hasn't thought to put clothes on. You consider pointing that out, but decide otherwise. People might wonder why you have a stranger in your bedroom, but not if he's naked.
For you, lunch is breakfast. The Kinzira estate is emptying out quickly. There are only stragglers left; those cautious and waiting for noon to pass before they leave, and the ones who like you perhaps indulged a little heavily even by the standards of the jansi.
But hey, at least that means that there are witnesses here to play the adoring crowd. Which is nothing less than your right, naturally.
"Well, look at you," Sadia says, insinuating herself into the seat opposite to you. "The conquering hero graces us with her presence." Despite her words, she's smiling.
"I was injured," you protest. "I slept late because I needed my rest."
She looks you up and down, taking in your heavily mussed state and the fact that your borrowed dress is by now one big crease. "Certainly. Of course. I believe you. By the way, aunty is going to want that back."
"Yes, yes." You look at her over a spoon of apricot jam and couscous. "I certainly won't comment on how you're up just as late as me, so I will merely observe you're not exactly sitting comfortably."
That earns you a chuckle, tinged with a wince. "Touche, my friend."
"You had fun?"
"I had
lots of fun. You were jolly considerate. Those two play at being rivals, but… well. They can also be very affectionate." She sighs. "And that's going to be the last fun for a while. The Demio will be wanting reports on what happened here, and then I'll have terribly boring things as we see what damage this storm caused and what chaos-maddened horrors it unleashed."
"My, my."
She throws a husk of bread at you. "Don't you look so smug! Or I won't give you a lift back!"
"I don't actually need one," you inform her. "A handsome gentleman is taking me for a ride."
Her eyebrows rise. "Some girls have all the luck," she grouses.
You lean in, voice lowered. "Of course, I don't think I got to the bottom of this," you say softly, letting the noise of the dining hall drown out your words.
"Oh?"
"Just a feeling. I… some things just didn't line up."
Sadia looks at you over the top of her drink. "What are you going to do about that?" she asks.
"Me? Nothing." You sit back, stretching. "It's not my problem. I got my revenge for Haitham and no one is trying to frame me. But given your position in the city, you might want to look into that. So like a friend, darling, I thought I'd toss all and any responsibility over to you."
She sighs in relief. "Oh. Yes, I don't think things quite were wrapped up myself. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. I was just concerned you were going to declare vendetta against someone else. You know the Demio will have hard questions if my friend starts murdering people indiscriminately. Just leave it to me."
You shake your head. "I just want to put this behind me. But be a star and tell me if you find anything else, will you?"
"We'll see," she says. She sips her wine. "Depends what the Demio orders me to do. Sorry. You're a friend, but she can have me crucified upside-down from the dam. It'd be awfully bad for my health, don't you know?"
You suppose that's all you're going to get from her, but perhaps that's enough. After all, it isn't your problem anymore.
Your goodbyes are so forgettable and rote that you can barely recall them moments after making them. Most of the interesting people have either already left, or are so hungover that there's nothing to be said about speaking to them. You flatter Kareena ak-Kinzira with unearned compliments, and send your regards to the patriarch Bolous.
"I'll see you some time later," Sadia says. She winks. "Probably in the casinos."
You kiss her on both cheeks. "Darling, I'm up any time. I still need to get back what you won off me at the fighting arena."
She laughs. "Not likely," she says, kissing your cheeks in farewell.
Outside is fresh and wonderful, away from the claustrophobic gloom and greasy scent of the estate. The air smells of rain and fresh growth. There is no heat haze; no shimmer; no low hanging dust in the air. The sun shines down between dark clouds that it hasn't finished burning away yet. It lights up fresh growth, which is mostly green. There are patches of red and violet and cyan among the leaves, but that's what happens when plants feed off the change rain.
The landscape is worlds apart from how it was when you arrived. And you love it for that. Oh, the harsh sun and the cruel desert winds will flense away this gift of chaos in time, but for now, Cahzor feels alive. Even the mounds of sand carried by the storm are alive with frantic, furious,
desperate growth.
The desert wind blows up from the greened valley, warmer than the surrounding air and carrying the scent of roses. You inhale, filling your lungs, knowing well that this is just a transitory thing. But oh, it is beautiful while it lasts.
"Lady!"
Your attention is drawn to a figure of beauty, riding up to you on a stallion. His hair flares behind him, his shirt is open to the navel, and he shimmers like he's freshly coated with dew.
You meet his orange eyes. "Why, hello, cutie," you purr. "Would you be up to taking a lady home?"
Blue frowns. "Of course," he says earnestly. "Don't you remember? I said that…"
You rap his knee with your knuckles. Being coy is wasted on this sexy moron. "What a fine steed," you say instead.
Blue's horse does not exist. You can see that straight off, even if the jansi are blind to it. It is a grey, tinged with sky-like azure, and its eyes are the same orange as his. It has no teeth, and when you brush your hands against its withers you feel for a moment its paper-thin skin tear. Then, of course, the tear never existed.
It is a dream of a horse, likely woven from the remnants of the storm, though it will carry you two well enough back to Cahzor-upon-Dam. After all, a dream can drive a man to sail to the Far West in search of silver and spices. One can carry you a few kilometres with no great strain.
"Lady, you praise me," he says, reaching down to take your hand. His skin is a little cooler than a man's. Blue bends to kiss you on the hand. "Please, allow me to take you away from this place."
"Oh, if you insist," you say. You can't help but laugh. You are feeling better. This chaos-tainted landscape brings the life your spirit was missing. Oh, no doubt there are monsters out in the vegetation, but you have a darling cataphract to keep you safe.
And then after only getting slightly distracted by admiring his shapely calves in the fake-leather thigh high boots of his glamour, you let him lift you up onto his lap. His steed rears up with a showy neigh, and then trots off showily.
Sitting side-saddle, you rest your head against his chest and enjoy the feeling of one of his arms wrapped around you. None of it is real. His form is a lie; his horse is a lie; his affection for you is a lie. But a lie like this darling, stupid princeling is better than the truth. There are no pimples on his chest and his horse will not tire; he will not hurt you when he betrays you because his act was never real.
The road winds down the valleyside. Far below you can see the Little Nam, its polluted surface covered in shimmering rainbow wyldslick, the water rippling with things stirred to life by the storm. The stones of the great dam are stained many colours, and even from this distance you can see workmen brushing sand off the edge. And there, near the landdock! The corpse of some great scaled beast, slain by the defenders or simply marooned in a world that does not permit such things to exist.
Oh, there will be marvels in the markets of Cahzor from this storm in the next few days. Strange rocks twisted by chaos, the body parts from fae who fell - perhaps even a little wyldstone! Such delights to obtain!
And behind you as you ride away is the Kinzira estate. The dawn light paints the stone a fleshy pink. Its towers jut up to the skies like so many broken teeth. The water from the wyldstorm oozes down the sandy slopes, dripping. Salivating. Many of the mounds of mine slag have experienced landslides in the storm, and you avert your eyes from where you think there used to be a village of a few wretched hovels, canvas roofs stretched over old stone walls.
You are glad to be away from that place. Its dark corridors, its grease and its unsettling gloom. The corpulent Boulos is welcome to his ancestral home. You don't think you'll return any time soon.
Unless you're invited to another party with food as wonderful as that first night, of course. That's different.
You have reached the end of arc 2. And with that, you have 1300XP to spend, in plan format. You can spend the XP on Styles as listed in the character sheet.
Current Style Summary:
Viper Style - Disciple (Crippled) (0/800XP) (Wood)
Peacock Style - Initiate (Crippled) (100/400XP) (Air)
Graceful Willow Style - Initiate (Crippled) (0/400XP) (Wood)
Unnoticed Breeze Style - Student (Crippled) (100/200XP) (Air)
Petal-Wreathed Diva Style - Master (0/2400XP) (Wood)
Smiling Siaka Style - Master (0/2400XP) (Water)
Wyldwoods Scholar Style - Grandmaster (0/3600XP) (Wood)
Optionally, you may also spend 400XP from that on a "Sorcery lucky dip" of searching through the markets of Cahzor for sorcerous materials. If this is done, a vote will be offered allowing you to pick a single new sorcery spell. That vote should be listed as "[X] Sorcery Lucky Dip" in a plan that takes the option.
XP Vote - Allocate 1300 XP
[ ] Plan Vote
