The whole party is uncomfortable and restless after your experience at the shrine; you’re still not sure who’s life some of the visions were supposed to be from, but some were all too familiar—just twisted in uncomfortable ways. Around the fire, it’s uncharacteristically silent.
“Company.” The green-haired Wood-aspect is the first to twig to unwelcome visitors; she notches an arrow and her panther companion drops into a crouch at the edge of the clearing. Uneasy, you get to your feet, hand hovering in the air, ready to draw your sword from Nowhere, and the others assemble themselves into readiness, as well. The dark-haired Fire-aspect bites her lower lip, reaching protectively to draw Lark behind her.
When the two step into sight, though, the reaction is surprising and instantaneous. One man, one woman, and though the woman is particularly striking with sharp-features and a mane of dark hair, neither of them looks familiar to you—but your shrouded, masked colleague’s voice is suddenly thick with uncharacteristic emotion as he speaks a name, quietly.
“Yoke.”
Both of the newcomers ignore this, apparently not recognizing it as directed at either of them. The woman starts in: “This is Sha’a Oka’s territory. I thought we’d made clear what that meant to Dynasts—“
But she stops, realizing suddenly that not one but three sets of eyes are trained on hers. The assassin-courtier with the long, silky raven-black hair has his eyes on her as well, with a naked longing, and Lark, next to you, looks stunned. No, more than that—there’s something off about her expression, somehow. Like it’s not her—
“Yoke, dearest—it’s been so long,” continues *****, emotion audible though his face is still, as nearly always, hidden. His voice is strange, too—more imperious. Angry?
“Don’t you dare speak to her,” the assassin-courtier cuts in, and his voice is odd, too. He’s always angry, in that seething way of his, but his voice is sharp, higher-pitched.
The woman—Yoke?—for her part, looks just as bewildered to you. Something very strange is going on here. You turn to Lark, the question apparent on your features, but she’s moving forward, pushing past **** and not looking at you.
The men are shouting at each other—***** shouting at **** for stealing his wife, **** retorting with accusations of being a controlling asshole, and Lark is trying to calm them down but can’t get in a word edgewise. **** pulls the golden needles from his updo, but before he can strike ***** unleashes sorcery you hadn’t even realized he was shaping—cracks form in the ground under ****’s feet, and smoke coils up from them into the shapes of cobras, who fall upon him.
You hear Lark’s voice sing out through the dust and dirt and smoke, but what finally clears the smoke away is when “Yoke” bursts through the fight, her arms growing fur, hands elongating into claws, taking the form of an enormous mongoose.
“It’s Snake Eater,” she growls. “Get it right. And you’re coming with me to explain to Sha’a Oka why you trespassed in his territory.”
Notable:
Hey cool what the fuck was that—
White-haired Shrike.
The assassin-courtier with long black hair is the same man from Memory 6.
The dark-haired Fire aspect is the same woman from Memory 12.
memory 013
“Company.” The green-haired Wood-aspect is the first to twig to unwelcome visitors; she notches an arrow and her panther companion drops into a crouch at the edge of the clearing. Uneasy, you get to your feet, hand hovering in the air, ready to draw your sword from Nowhere, and the others assemble themselves into readiness, as well. The dark-haired Fire-aspect bites her lower lip, reaching protectively to draw Lark behind her.
When the two step into sight, though, the reaction is surprising and instantaneous. One man, one woman, and though the woman is particularly striking with sharp-features and a mane of dark hair, neither of them looks familiar to you—but your shrouded, masked colleague’s voice is suddenly thick with uncharacteristic emotion as he speaks a name, quietly.
“Yoke.”
Both of the newcomers ignore this, apparently not recognizing it as directed at either of them. The woman starts in: “This is Sha’a Oka’s territory. I thought we’d made clear what that meant to Dynasts—“
But she stops, realizing suddenly that not one but three sets of eyes are trained on hers. The assassin-courtier with the long, silky raven-black hair has his eyes on her as well, with a naked longing, and Lark, next to you, looks stunned. No, more than that—there’s something off about her expression, somehow. Like it’s not her—
“Yoke, dearest—it’s been so long,” continues *****, emotion audible though his face is still, as nearly always, hidden. His voice is strange, too—more imperious. Angry?
“Don’t you dare speak to her,” the assassin-courtier cuts in, and his voice is odd, too. He’s always angry, in that seething way of his, but his voice is sharp, higher-pitched.
The woman—Yoke?—for her part, looks just as bewildered to you. Something very strange is going on here. You turn to Lark, the question apparent on your features, but she’s moving forward, pushing past **** and not looking at you.
The men are shouting at each other—***** shouting at **** for stealing his wife, **** retorting with accusations of being a controlling asshole, and Lark is trying to calm them down but can’t get in a word edgewise. **** pulls the golden needles from his updo, but before he can strike ***** unleashes sorcery you hadn’t even realized he was shaping—cracks form in the ground under ****’s feet, and smoke coils up from them into the shapes of cobras, who fall upon him.
You hear Lark’s voice sing out through the dust and dirt and smoke, but what finally clears the smoke away is when “Yoke” bursts through the fight, her arms growing fur, hands elongating into claws, taking the form of an enormous mongoose.
“It’s Snake Eater,” she growls. “Get it right. And you’re coming with me to explain to Sha’a Oka why you trespassed in his territory.”
Notable: