Two Rivers Isle natron

satsu could not decide for herself if the look on his face made her angry, or warm, or even bored; but he spoke openly about his own desires and the very gall of it, of him, made her subtly envious.
what was stopping her from being so open about her own desires?

her father was dead. she picked at the wound his absence had become — this mental abscess — as if remembering him as he was, somehow, gave her power.
the truth was, power stripped from her each time she mourned. weakness came in remembering. there was no way to change what happened and no reason to be found by walking the devil's path of revenge.
still; why not both?

how could i expect you to understand how much better it is than war?
she did not know what to say.

i have never tasted war either, satsu came to admit, but when i think of my home being taken by a new daimyo, and all that i had to do to escape that, while my brothers were cut down, all i want is -- but she did not know what she wanted, and floundered there. cheeks hot, scruff spiked with bother.
—how can you seek revenge but be unwilling to fight?
irate, now. how quickly her mood turns foul and storming.