Sleeping Dragon forcing

she knew @Kairos walked with her as she roamed further out from the woods. she had not wanted to admit it, but as the woodlands gave way to more open areas she felt a great relief. it was easier to not feel as if she was being spied upon.

once she had traveled far and wide, she had felt like a girl the moment she had walked away from the palace in those early days. now there was no treasured fellahin to gossip with, there was no collection of bodies waiting on her every word.

only kairos.

yet as she came to the base of the grand sleeping dragon, she thought of many faces. she thought of the roman who had taught her to climb such rugged surfaces. only she held no desire to climb today, she needed to skirt around its base and plunge into the valley beyond here.

still she stood in place, for a moment, watching the local herd enjoy the delicacy of a natural salt lick.

she wished for the trained eye of @Qiao here to pick the most vital treasures or trading objects, but who would have carried them as they went?

cameo

from a distance he watched.

kairos lingered at her back to muddle their trails with wild garlic and other fragrant herbs, covering their path as they cut away from the woods. it would not do to be followed. still; he watched. always.

there is a family nearby, qiao informed @Stormchaser as she worried the tough hide of a felled porcupine. in the coming days, they would need his quills. she did not share the dark scent she'd scented hot on the mother's breath. it would not matter in a day or two.

as luck would have it, the wind shifted and another more pleasantly familiar scent was borne on its wings. qiao set aside her work and motioned for stormchaser to look alert.

makono -- with odd traces of.. garlic? here of all places -- the overworld's red ribbons of fate worked in strange ways. 

qiao donned an innoffensive smile as she neared the woman, who looked a little older -- and significantly more scarred -- than the last time they'd met. qiao's olive eyes traced the disfigurement along makono's face.

her haka had found its mark, then. she wondered what else had been stolen from makono all this time. makono. no need for epithets so far from akashingo. the priestess gaze conveyed the question that notched from her tongue seconds later. who is your friend? she signaled to the man who lingered nearby, tamping the woman's trail with the acrid scent of wild herbs.

Can be skipped/PP'd by Qiao.

Stormchaser said nothing to Qiao. He trusted her senses more than he would his own.

As they happened upon a duo, the stormy young man regarded them with a cold expression. It was clear that at least one of them was familiar to the crone. She regarded them with a name - Makono. Stormchaser did not know who they were or what they were doing out there, only that Qiao would have her own reasons for stopping and chatting. She never did anything without reason, after all.

A silent guardian over his mother-figure, the boy said nothing, only listened with an intent scowl upon his young face.

the woman was made of magic and stone. ancient earth that had experienced more than makono ever might. that would experience more. royals did not seem to have an exceptionally long life-span.

her features were thoughtful as one eyed soaked in the good sight and the other was only clouded shapes through its lens. two worlds walked, two worlds seen. what she greeted qiao with, after this long look, was respect. a head dipped for a moment before she assumed her usual tall stance again.

she was not here to piss the woman off so far from akashingo.

after all, in her darkest moments, she had thought the woman might have use of her bones.

kairos, spoken as if she planned to give a report. bonded by bloodshed in fields far from here. friend is too humble a title for all he has done, i believe. there was nothing in her voice or posture that might give the man she called kairos reason to worry about their new company.

but makono was not the only one who kept new faces. a young man cloaked with a scowl came to them too.

and yours?

let the women talk without men, it seemed.

friend is too humble a title. a romantic concept for anyone besides qiao. her green gaze drank kairos in. 

many friends walked this earth. many more slept below it.

he was her blood-tithe. qiao was familiar with the strange brothership birthed from war. it transcended blood and went deeper; the survivors chased that feeling the rest of their (short) lives.

stormchaser. my disciple. she motioned for the scowling boy to step forward. he had been tremendously useful to her all these months. when -- or if, if qiao had her way -- she died, he would be the last of her line. to carry the legacy of the overworld.

a pity such responsibility came down on the shoulders of a boy.

qiao thought of her to-lang, which she'd left near their encampment with the quills. the to-lang had been frustratingly silent about this matter -- but perhaps this was the true reason the sigil-bones told her to go to the coast. and here she was, thinking it was because she'd found that sick mother!

a shame you've lost your eye. i could have found good use in it. qiao remarked, turning her attention back to her familiar. we are here on special errand. are you returning then, to akashingo?

stormchaser. a disciple. she did not know that they both followed a line of thinking. pity that it had come upon a boy instead of a girl or woman.

she tried not to look at him too hard for it.

i told them to return bones for you if i died. wouldn't that have been more grand than an eye? what others may have found humorous, she said in a dull tone. flat and truthful. maybe she would have never found peace if qiao walked the earth with a piece of her, but she had hardly ever been one to settle. even in the afterlife she imagined she might toil for centuries.

and i suppose that's the plan. will you return to the palace when your errand is over?

makono surprised qiao then. it was rare -- if ever -- that someone gave qiao anything. most days, she had to fight tooth and claw for her tiny parcel of existence. it was magnanimous gesture -- and it told qiao, in a small way, that the woman held her in regard.

she stood square now, turning to look at makono from her other eye. would it be, that some beings would never truly be knowable? this woman among them.

a rare smile silhouetted itself upon qiao's lips. i would have found good use for those, too. but the pleasantries were over -- now came business. yes. always. qiao believed that sometimes, a haka's lingering curse-power perpetually pulled her back. my work there was never finished.

you should know they have replaced you.

she almost wanted to ask, to know where her bones would have been put to use and what it would have meant for those who walked the earth. knowing that her bones could cause even the most rugged of seers to smile was reward enough, though.

you should know they have replaced you.

she wanted to be surprised, but she was not. the only thing that wiggled in worry was the possibility of it being the return of siptah or even sethnakht.

is it a cowardly brother come to take over?

when her disfigured features twisted with a smile, it was anything but kind.

dynasties were like the seasons. some long, some brutally short. the great machine was always turning — and things were always being put into place. 

qiao wondered if makono had learned this life lesson yet. by her scars, she’d learned plenty. it is toula, and a man named rashepses. qiao knew little of the raven pelted man other than that he was sharper than he let on. she suspected this purely by the intelligent gleam in his eyes. 

i plan to return in two weeks time.

toula.

it was a name she was more relieved to hear. she could have lived with it. she could have warmed her sister in the palm of her hands with love. she would have told her countless stories, pretty words for horrible things done. she would have gathered every treasure or fur in her path just to make her father's princess (she would always be a princess, lovingly, in the eyes of makono) feel joy.

but a man? she would not dignify his place by weeping at the thought. instead she would become stone again. a soldier more than a politician.

dear sister, do you know a man would sooner kill you than give up what you have given him? do you know that to sit upon that throne is to be alone? to love is to die?

did her sister work with a mind as her exiled mother or her kin-killed father? perhaps this was makono's true penance. she considered, for a moment, giving qiao her good eye to work some kind of magic upon this. alas.

she would make good with the crone and return to see her sister's radiance not be demolished.

and what is your plan upon arrival?

she knew it was very possible for the woman to not tell her, but she hoped there was a shred of something real here.

many thoughts passed behind that singular burning eye. qiao could not read every one of them, but she believed she saw a hardness grow in there that had not been there before. 

makono had a long journey ahead of her. qiao supposed she could start it off with some bitter truths. 

to claim my bloodprice. she delivered, the set of her jaw as rigid as granite against the lash of waves. 

what would makono make of this, being the second of many that denied qiao what was rightfully hers?

do you mean to take it from toula this time? i do not know her...acceptance for these things.

humor dazzled in her voice for a moment. it was another reason to love her sister — and to guard her so sharply.

makono had not delivered this bloodprice herself, but she had not the womb prepared to give something so royal for the crone's service. truth be told she still had not yet burned.

but my blood is still divine —

ruling or not.

qiao would share nothing of her intentions - even to a woman such as makono. 

she thought it a shame she’d been born saddled to the drudgery of akashingo. she’d make a fine coven-sister. 

do you mean to offer me one of your own? her gaze turned needlepoint, olive encased in ice. qiao could not forgive the same promise broken twice.

if it is a burden too heavy, i don't wish to put it upon you.

makono did not mean to make qiao beg or ask so dramatically for it. she did not want to watch the crone lower herself or grovel for the little divinity.

yet nor did she want to be questioned on this offer either — and the offer did still hang freely.

give and take. the way the world turned.

qiao's thin head turned from side to side, measuring makono from each eye.

it was not too heavy a burden! it was a profound offering -- did the would-be mother understand the cost?

when? came her single reply, olive eyes glittering as she beheld the woman that might hold the key to her future.

she could not say and that along angered makono at herself, at her own body.

the first moment there is a sign. then the moment that they want out — disgusted by the idea of motherhood. perhaps it was for the best that she gave anything to qiao, regardless of whatever outcome it might meet with the crone. i will call no sesh to me. i will call you.

happy to fade this whenever and maybe something new, i know qiao is a busy lady <3

<33 I’d love something new sorry I let this get outdated

it is bound. qiao decreed solemnly, holding makono’s intelligent eye for a grave moment. later she would cement this with a spell.  

a call rose in the distance from her acolyte. qiao shared — in the barest of details — where makono could find her when her hour came. then, the priestess bade her leave. she would not get her hopes up - not yet. 
     
she hoped in her dark heart makono’s offer would never be reneged.