Hideaway Strath thirty-six flowers

Someone she hasn't met yet?
(@Arlette, @Aerin, or @Simmik?)

summer's burn was briefly lifted by a spell of rain; satsu could be found standing with her face uplifted to it, as if in prayer. it was warm. soon the clouds were driven apart by a gasping breath of wind.
already the rain was dry upon her coat. she took a moment to smooth the fur of her wrists (akin to adjusting her sleeves) and set her mind to exploration.
the hissing of cicadas followed her along the border of a meadow filled with red flowers; she plucked one carefully, and held the bud aloft.

Aerin had left Momotzli in @Vein's care for a time, slipping from their dwelling and cutting through the meadow of crimson -- stopping only at the edges of the trees to empty her bladder. She squinted pale eyes against the sun's brilliance as she trotted slowly through the flowers, a gentle smile unfurling upon her lips as she considered what she might do with her brief bout of free time. Go speak with her gods, hunt, maybe visit with Arlette or Nyra and their children. 

The possibilities seemed endless, overwhelmingly so, but her decision was made when she spotted the unfamiliar figure of mottled gold and heather up ahead. Part of her bristled to see a stranger so close to where her child slept but the woman had not yet wandered close enough that she might pick up the heavy borders The Priestess had laid around the whelping den. So she swallowed the irrational irritation, knowing it was only new motherhood making her overprotective, and approached the new Saint with a soft whuff. 

Reluctant to disturb the woman as she peacefully observed a red flower. "I donnae know zeir true name but ze locals call zem fireflowers."

the bulb she held so carefully had not yet ripened. satsu wondered what it would contain; sweetness, like the honeysuckle that had grown absent in her life, or bitter, like the tea the elder women would steep. perhaps something new altogether.
a voice; —ze locals call zem fireflowers.

startled; she clutches the blossom too tightly and it crushes in her hold. is it worth it to feel sorrow? the field is filled with red yet to be plucked. satsu decides to let the feeling go; she has had enough of sorrow.
they are beautiful. she looks to where the woman stands and then kindly drops her gaze, respectful.
they look like suns setting — nichibotsu.

sorry for the wait on this! <3

Aerin smiled gently, casting an admiring gaze of moonlight over the field of flowers -- grateful again that Vein had suggested this place for their gardening, which had led to the suggestion of them denning here entirely. "I zink so too," she demurred before her opalite gaze drifted back to the soft edges of the woman's dovedown coat.

"Might I ask vhat language zat is? It is lovely," the pale hart asked -- the questioning tilt of her head and softening of her eyes indicative of a hesitance to pry. She knew only too well how it felt to be a vagrant, a migrant to these lands. And she knew well what it was to hold close the person you had been before, safeguarding the memories and languages of the place that had once been home.

satsu smiles, drawing an even breath that fills her lungs with floral notes.
she looks a little sheepish. i do not know what it is called. it is the language of my people, it is very old.
on the topic of languages satsu wonders to herself, then expresses a thought: you do not sound like the others. i wonder, did you come from somewhere else? this place is home to so many different people - the awed sound of satsu's voice tapered to silence, all eyes on aerin.

Rather than unravel the mysteries of the dawn-pelted fae, her own past is brought into question. But Aerin doesn't mind so much, not when Satsu is so saccharine in her curiosity -- trying to relay this in the sudden rueful curve of her lips. It's almost refreshing; having been questioned on first sight in the past by gawking eyes that screamed what are you? 

"Aye, similarly, I donnae know ze name of my former 'ome but it vas far to ze north," she demurred, curling ivory haunches gauged with scar tissue beneath her delicately. "My mother -- she could nae speak very vell. I did nae learn vords until I vas taken by my first Masters. I did nae know freedom until I lived vith ze Druids."

masters? druids?

it all sounded so complicated and different from what satsu grew up with. maybe not truly different, if she could only know the meaning behind things. by the way the woman spoke of masters and how similiarly affected she spoke of daimyo, satsu wondered if they were the same. druids, though, were a new concept.

what is a druid? so candid in her interest, focused on that which she did not know.

The pallid hart hummed softly, ears flickering as moonlit eyes slide away in rumination. When she had formulated a good response, they returned to Satsu. ”Zey are kind, free. I vas ze only slave zey ever traded for — zeir leader ‘eard I vas a midvife an’ ‘oped I vould be able to ‘elp ‘is vife. Zey vorship ze stars an’ ze earth. One another an’ zemselves. Love is zeir religion.”

She smiled wistfully at the jackal. ”But ze Druids are all gone — I vas ze last an’ now I am Saint. Ze rest vere viped out in ze var.” It all had been so long ago it seemed a tale passed down from the mouth of her foremothers, not Aerin’s own history. 

they sounded like interesting people. not so far from the wajo of her own home; though they did not emphasise the stars in their worship, there were similar aspects between the shinto priests and these so-called druids.
so strange, to find someone like that far from the han.

the woman spoke of war. of loss. the splintering of one's society and the fresh absence of culture.
satsu knew this well, as it was still so vibrant in her own memory. the moment turned sombre.

to think that one such as this would be made a slave!
they were thin and sharp, but certainly not born of slave stock.
you are no longer a slave now, here, are you? you are free.

The sylph smiled. "Zat is true -- ze Saints 'ave become my 'ome. 'ere I am mother an' Priestess to my people." When the silence had fallen between them, not uncomfortably, the halfling attempted to shine the spotlight upon Satsu for a moment. "Vhat do ye do -- in terms of trade?" she asked the ashen canid curiously, wispy ears tipping forward in a display of intrigue -- as if to catch any forthcoming information. 

Perhaps Satsu was drawn to herbal lore as she and Vein were. It had been sometime since she had had a colleague to speak with. Derg's disappearance meant Arlette had withdrawn from the pack's social circle somewhat, which was entirely understandable -- especially when one considered the albino's history and her earlier delivery this year. Vein too had become preoccupied, spending many of his waking hours toiling in the dirt and tending to the various mothers and wounded Saints. Or at least, that was what she presumed. And Hemlocke was a man who preferred the company of shadows and spirit-speakers, not to mention he was nowhere to be found.

priestess? judging by the way the woman spoke the word, and what satsu now knew of druids, she compared this to wajo of her people; it was not common for a woman to take such a prestigous role - but these nanban were very different to her.

ah, i do not yet know my role, satsu admitted.
in my home i was... a dancer. i wanted to be a warrior like my brothers, but it was frowned upon, so i put my energy in to other things. such physicality had kept her distracted, but satsu had managed to steal some lessons from her brothers regardless.

the saints offer me sanctuary while i figure myself out. and while grieving her losses.

The pale hart’s brow furrowed over moonstone gaze, the concept one she found unfamiliar. ” I fear I ‘ave never ‘eard of zis dancing. Vhat is it?” she asked, somewhat bluntly, though her tones were light with curiosity and benign in nature. 

Her rosy lips curled in a light smile. ”Ah. Ye ‘ave come to ze right place zen. Every Saint is varrior — ye should find nae shortage of mentors if’n it is something ye still vish to learn.” Likewise, Aerin had been forbidden from learning the martial arts of combat in her past lives before joining the Sainthood. Where such knowledge had been guarded fiercely in all of her former stations, it came freely beneath the Deagon dynasty. For good reason, considering how often their band of barbarians went to war.

never heard of dancing?
satsu was aghast.

it is... like fighting, she reasoned aloud, trying not to let her surprise flavor her words too deeply. but you do it alone, or in pairs, or sometimes in large groups. you do not do it to wound others, but to celebrate. it... is very physical, she was blushing uncontrollably now.

this sounded like something more lewd.

as she thought this, she stepped away. ducking, striding quickly, pirouetting on her heel, ending in a bow and small flourish; not as fine-tuned as she had been earlier in her life, but moving enough to show off.

like that, for example. satsu watched the finely pointed woman and wondered what she'd make of it.