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Kujou Sara drinks sake. It makes Diona’s nose scrunch up in annoyance, but… she’s not a booze hound.
It’s difficult to bring together the image of the strong archer she admires with the woman drinking Inazuman wine. Her lips are turned up at the corners as she watches the felines of the Cat’s Tail.
Kujou Sara has been correcting her stance; Kujou Sara has been an inspiration. The only problem is that she enjoys her spirits.
Diona feels herself on the cusp of change. She frowns. Yet…
Yet she knows Kujou Sara is a good woman. She believes in her.
Freminet is a good friend and a better assistant. Sucrose, of course, is happy to help him – so long as it will lead him back to the alchemy table. Freminet, on the other hand, never shies away from Albedo’s paint upon the easel.
He is silent whilst Albedo and Mamere discuss the finer points of artwork and her curious… paints, eyes trained upon them and hands clasped around his mekanical penguin.
Albedo cannot be sure if he hesitates to speak, or simply enjoys the warmth of familiar company.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t press. Freminet is his own capable person.
When the worst of the heat has passed over young Fischl, she emerges from Kandake’s dwelling with an ethereal grace.
The words on her lips are like those inscribed upon the obelisks detailing the history of King Deshret’s reign. Her mysterious corvid companion offers translations for her whims, though once Kandake raises her hand, he seems to understand. Kandake needs no interpretation for her poet’s tongue.
Before long, Fischl is racing with the children around Aaru Village, astounding them with her transformation into Oz himself.
Kandake watches over them. It’s rare for visitors to make her feel so at peace.
With her mind set on food and cooking, those who aren’t won over by Xiangling’s bright personality can find her single-minded focus frustrating.
But not Lisa. The young chef is one of the last people she expects to find in her library, that’s true; nor does she expect the earnest nod she gets in response to her usual stern warning.
Xiangling returns the recipe book the very next day. And she asks for more.
‘You cooked all those dishes?’ Lisa teases.
Xiangling’s just the sort of girl to say, ‘Yeah! It was great! Do you have any others?’
It’s cute.
Cyno is not acquainted with the brutal frost of Dragonspine. He would have assumed the Adeptus Xiao was much the same – but a clipped piece of wisdom regarding eating packed snow quickly proved him wrong.
They sit in a cavern now, each silent as they regard the fire keeping them alive. The spirit in him is whispering to the demons that haunt Xiao’s skin. There is a longing in Cyno reaching for Xiao, undecipherable to him.
Cyno looks at Xiao, who looks back at him.
Somehow, he feels their mutual understanding of a warrior’s loneliness–
Xiao knows the warrior’s life.
Yun Jin sings and Nilou sways atop the stage.
The Yun-Han Opera Troupe has a keen eye and a strict atmosphere, so unlike the way each member of the Zubayr Theatre fit together like a family. At first, Nilou is unsure of the way she places her hands and spins – she is unsure of her place here, Yun Jin alone her only life line.
On the next twirl, she looks away from the eyes of the audience and to her friend’s. Yun Jin’s gaze is sparkling, locked upon her every step.
As Nilou turns back to stage front, she grins.
Together with the young cartographer from the Knights of Favonius, Kaveh’s architectural work has been surprisingly smooth.
He’s used to negotiating with every worker and union by himself, running about to ensure his landscaping and engineering visions are coming to life. Mehrak is always trailing behind him, beeping in vain to try and get him to relax.
With Mika here, Kaveh finds himself at a loss. All of the groups working together to make this new museum are on the same page. Mika understands his blueprints at a single glance.
For once in his life, Kaveh feels wonderfully at ease.
Lynette shuts her eyes to Barbara’s humming voice.
They are buffeted by the soft winds coming toward the Cathedral. As is part of her sisterly duties, Barbara is hanging up the linens, the bandages and the clothing used by the Sisters.
She offered her help, and Barbara, smiling, told her to relax. So Lynette has no compunctions about entering Standby Mode, sitting behind her own eyes and letting the afternoon roll over her.
Barbara murmurs to herself about the outdoor sweeping to be done next. Unconsciously, Lynette grips her sword.
Once she’s recharged, she can (and will) help with that.
Tubby peeks out from beneath her teapot hat. She finds Kirara exactly where she left her: hovering atop a mess of boxes placed by the Traveller. She’s surrounded by several cat companions, facades created by the Omni-Ubiquity Nets dreamt up by human invention. But humans are not on Tubby’s mind right now.
Kirara’s tails are swishing behind her, like a metronome of the hunter’s performance.
‘K-Kirara,’ suggests Tubby, ‘Shall I tell you about the history of this realm?’
Kirara sits up, retracts her claws. Tubby sighs in relief.
‘Tell me about the birds!’ Kirara demands.
‘Ah… please don’t eat them…’
‘Then send the letter.’
‘It’s not quite so simple…’
‘So you desire to make the Traveller run around, fetching you Wind Asters that continue to wilt? Such is the cowardice of men.’
Viktor stares across the table, and even behind his mask, he looks as if he’s been struck. There’s a tense understanding to his shoulders, though. He knows that his hesitation is without real merit.
Wanderer never knew this grunt in his previous life. He hears out the man’s tale now… because Lesser Lord Kusanali has willed it.
Make friends, she said.
‘You’re making Lily wait.’
‘… Yes. I am.’