World Tree MUSH

    Trollskull Manor is open and serving these days, meaning that it's perfectly normal to hear the kitchen bustling. However, it's long past time when the doors close and the clientele are sent home, and the dining area is relatively dark, so it's a smidge odd to hear the steady sounds of cooking. But it sounds like there's definitely something going on in there, and it smells like it too. The mixed smell of steamed rice, something sweet, and heating oil.

    At the moment, Kanna Ouji is moving between a pot of steamed rice and a skillet in which some kind of sauce is simmering; nearby, a dish with breading rests near a few chicken cutlets on a cutting board, not far from where a smallish pot of oil is heating. The red-haired samurai is currently shifting between this spot and that, checking the oil, checking the sauce, checking the rice, and back again. Her sword rests nearby, leaned against a wall in the kitchen.

Neviah's last night out on the town ended with her stumbling headlong into the consequences of her own actions. She retreated into her room in Trollskull Manor upon getting home and has been keeping her head down since. She holed up in her room with her books and not much else and has spent the past couple of days stewing, reading and trying to wrap her mind around things.

Everyone, however, has to eat.

"Hello...?" The voice floats down the stairs - Neviah's, curious but hesitant. The dining room door opens to admit a bobbing light, a candle balanced in Neviah's hand. In most situations she's wearing some form of makeup and her overly flashy adventuring gear, but not so today, a pair of slippers and a thick, comfortable robe all she's gone with.

As she moves to the kitchen door, she blinks as she realizes who's there. "Oh... sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

    The redhead doesn't seem terribly surprised by Neviah's arrival; she doesn't do much more than glance up briefly, before returning to her cooking. "Oh, Neviah. Don't worry about it, I figured someone would show up with me cooking this late." She glances over to the cutting board briefly, then shifts the sauce off the fire, and steps over to start breading a chicken cutlet. "You want me to make you some? Ain't that fancy, just fried chicken over rice with a sweet and savory sauce. We call it 'katsu' back home, don't know if they have it out here."

Neviah is already beginning to turn away by the time the redhead looks up. In her mind, nobody would /want/ to talk to her right now.

The fact that the girl doesn't immediately glare at her gives her momentary pause. She looks out into the dining area, then back with a purse of her lips. "I don't think they do," she admits, voice quiet and thoughtful. There's a moment pause as she seriously considers just going back to her room and moping some more.

But then... there's the smell. And she's hungry.

"...It does smell nice. Ah... sure. Thank you. It's kind of you."

    "Sure," Kanna replies, giving Neviah a little nod in reply. "I like cooking, so I don't mind." The first chicken cutlet goes into the oil, and she starts prepping the second right away. But as she's breading and cooking, the ronin talks idly. "So I know what I'm doing up, but what's got you burning the midnight oil?" It doesn't take a genius to guess something's bothering her, and connecting the dots with their previous outing is an easy bit of math, but 'Crimson' wants to give the woman a chance to voice things out loud. So she leaves it at that, and shifts over briefly to check on the steamed rice.

It occurs to Neviah that she doesn't actually know the girl's name. Calling her 'Crimson' feels somehow gauche, but she doesn't give the sentiment voice. Asking would feel presumptuous. Setting her candle to one side, she drifts out into the empty dining area a little ways, folding her arms across her midsection.

"Just thinking, I suppose." It's a noncommittal answer, but not much else needs to be said. What happened in that back-alley shed was clear enough. Her body language conveys her unease starkly enough, anyway - shoulders raised a little, chin tucked and eyes lowered towards the floor without really seeing anything. She sways subtly on her feet as if to try and rock the uncomfortable thoughts away.

"...What spices are in that?" she wonders with a glance over.

    Red eyes peek over a shoulder briefly, and after a second or two, Kanna replies, "Same reason as me, then." For the question of ingredients, she points around at each item in turn. "Breading's flour, egg and panko, with a little seasoning for flavor. Sauce is simple, just uh... I think out here they call it Wor... Wors... Wor-something sauce, sugar, ketchup and oyster sauce. And the rice is just rice." Satisfied with the rice, she shifts it off the fire as well, and turns the majority of her attention to making sure the cutlets are frying up correctly. "Chicken katsu's an old favorite of mine. Kinda reminds me of home. Not real complicated, but it hits the spot."

"Worcestershire sauce," Neviah fills in, with flawless pronunciation.

She can't deny that the dish smells good, but she doesn't drift closer. Her gaze lifts from the floor and to the window, not really seeing the streets beyond, but at least pointed in that direction as if to awaken some different neurons in her consciousness.

The professor blinks once as the girl in the kitchen keeps talking. "Home for you is somewhere in Japan, isn't it? Forgive me if I'm assuming wrongly." She tilts her head and turns a little to better face the kitchen door.

    "Right. That."

    Is she faintly huffy? She might be faintly huffy.

    But Kanna quickly moves past it, addressing the next question while she shifts away from the deep fry pot for a moment to grab a pair of bowls. "Never heard of it. I grew up in a country called the Grand Duchy of Bran, but my grandparents emigrated there from another country called Seiryu. Lot of Seiryuans in Bran, really." The girl scoops rice into each bowl, giving them a nice, slightly rounded top, then sets the bowls near a second cutting board, and goes back to the chicken again. "Katsu's a fusion cuisine. The chicken cutlet's more Bran-style, putting it over rice is more Seiryu, and the sauce is kind of a fusion itself."

Neviah winces slightly as she realizes she's blundered into an impolitic assumption. "I'm sorry," she says immediately, voice noticeably quieting. Her shoulders come up as she glances self-consciously away.

If nothing else, the girl seems intent on still talking to her and even explaining things. The disgraced professor moues her lips, scuffing one heel against the floor before finally looking back towards the kitchen door. "...So it's a case where the cultures have blended together and produced something unique," she comments, eyebrows rising a little with curiosity.

    Kanna finally chuckles a little, giving Neviah an amused look. "Oi, don't apologize so much. I ain't that easy to offend." She finally starts pulling the chicken cutlets out of the oil, moving them one by one to that second cutting board. "But you're right about the culture. Sometimes you get good stuff where two cultures meet. Sometimes you get bad, but it is what it is. Humans are the same way. Or, uh, people, I guess." With both cutlets out on the cutting board, the swordswoman starts slicing them up into strips. "You seem like you're ready to bolt at the drop of a hat. This about what you talked about at the burning building?" Once again, a chance to open up - and this time, she's a little more forward about it.

Neviah opens her mouth a little with another apology on her tongue, but she swallows it quickly and shakes her head. "Mmn."

She can tell the girl's pushing her a little. A part of her shies away immediately. The rest of her is watching the girl slice up the katsu like someone who can handle a blade professionally. Folding her arms a little tighter, she nods slowly. She's silent for a few seconds. The space hangs there as she looks away, off to her left again and towards the floor.

"I was stupid and selfish," she finally mutters in a lower voice. It might be hard to hear her over whatever ambient kitchen noises linger. "Too caught up in my own obsessions. I should have known this would happen."

    Properly sliced, the chef then takes her knife and uses it to lift up each cutlet, and deposit it on a bowl of rice. Next, she grabs a smaller ladle, and ladles some of that sauce onto each bowl. All the while, she talks. "I admit, I don't really know anyone here well enough to comment. You, the others... I'm the newcomer in all this. But I heard what you said back there, and the way I see it, it may be your fault, but it ain't something to kick yourself over."

    There's a nearby pair of chopsticks the girl picks up, only to pause and look a little guilty. "...I only got one pair of chopsticks, you good with a fork?" Whichever way Neviah decides, she finishes procuring implements, and then hands off a bowl to her 'customer' before nodding towards the dining room. "Anyway, it's easy to beat yourself up over stuff you think is obvious looking back, but some things only seem obvious looking back. You learn how to spot it going forward, but don't kick yourself for not knowing what you didn't know."

"I'm alright with it... I'm more comfortable with a fork," Neviah admits with a little blush.

The girl has a bowl for her, and Neviah takes it with a murmured "Thank you." She takes a moment to draw in the scent of the dish. Simple, yes, but the way the sauce has been spiced is well outside the Victorian British cuisine she grew up with, and even the usual things she's sought out since leaving late 19th-century England. Stepping out into the dining room, she pulls a chair out for the Crimson Chef first, then picks one for herself.

"I would feel better about that if not for where this could go." The dark-haired woman settles in with a sag of her shoulders. "For a long time, I had been trained as a cleric, but...." She hesitates, trying to phrase things.

"...Faerun, the world my family is from, has grown deeply into the World Tree, so much that its history was forgotten. It's why I had the training as a divine caster, but no ability to use it without a god from my own plane. I was so obsessed with finding the history of that world. I let it consume me. When I found a god from Faerun for the first time...." She presses her lips firmly together and looks down at the bowl on the table before her.

"...In my heart, I did blame the World Tree. I felt like it had stolen something I valued."

    There's a good long while where Kanna stares at Neviah, even her chopsticks no longer moving. She had been shoveling, but it stops altogether, and after a moment she sits back a little, thoughtful. Frowning faintly. "Believe it or not, I... I get you. Circumstances aren't quite the same, but..." Curiously, her word choice has softened a little.

    She blows out a breath. "Seiryu fell to another kingdom twelve years before I was born. Even before that, it was obvious they were going to lose the war, which is why a lot of Seiryuans emigrated to Bran, including my grandparents. About ten years ago, it was finally freed. A lot of us are going back... but not my parents. Seiryu is a country of warriors, but they've forgotten their heritage. They're content to sit on their cushy pile of money and live in comfort."

    The ronin finally sits up. "They let me train in swordsmanship, but only as a 'pastime', even though I was good at it. A swordswoman who was never let on the battlefield, frustrated at her parents forgetting what it means to have Seiryu blood and clinging to their comforts."

Neviah picks at the katsu with the prongs of her fork. The way the girl looks at her leaves her uncertain, unable to tell if she's being judged harshly or not.

Then the girl begins to explain things. Folding her hands together with her fork caught between two fingers, Neviah blinks twice and raises her eyebrows. She listens, attentive, quiet.

"But you found ways to the battlefield in spite of that...?" she assumes quietly. In spite of herself, she finally picks out a slice of the katsu and some rice, and takes a little bite.

"'s good."

    The food is, if nothing else, expertly crafted. The rice is just right, the sauce is perfectly balanced, the chicken is juicy and the breading is crispy. She could make a good living on food alone, if this is any indication.

    At the remark on finding a way, the redhead snorts. "Something like that. Basically, I ran away from home. Ain't been back for five years, and it's the reason I don't give out my real name. They got a lot of money, and they got fingers out in the Tree. 'Crimson' is a fine enough name for now."

    She points towards the kitchen with her chopsticks before continuing. "As for gods, we ain't so different there, either. My goddess actually handed my sword to me. I won't say mine's as bad as yours, but a lot of people look at a Goddess of War a little more funny than they do a God of Light and Fluffy Rainbows. Way I see it, the real question is what they ask of you, how you handle it, and whether you can look yourself in the mirror."

With no true baseline for comparison, Neviah can only go on whether the food in her mouth tastes good or not - and it does. She begins to gather up another bite, the bit of chicken katsu balanced atop some rice on the tines of her fork.

She blinks once as Crimson explains what happened, chewing her bite, then swallowing it. "I see," she murmurs, her voice quiet. "And they're looking for you now. I wondered why you only spoke of yourself pseudonymously."

She follows the chopstick gesture with a glance, then looks back. "If I'm honest... I've felt this coming for a long time. At least, things with... with Zehir, the god I chose." Her shoulders tense slightly before she gives her head a little shake. "Ever since I came to Anchordeep, it's been harder and harder to draw on the magic. When you are a divine caster, your power comes from your god. Keeping that power means keeping your patron's favour. He is... malevolent. I see that now. And I think I always knew it. But I don't think I understood what it meant. I experience things now where I /feel/ that he expects me to do harm, or to be cruel, or to stop feeling things that I'm feeling. Like my very heart is being peeled away." As she speaks, her voice grows a little more pinched.

"It's more than just the Cult of Rot. I gave away my soul for a passing anger, and I don't think I can take it back. And if I could, I don't think I would deserve to. I'm just a weak fool who was enticed by my own sins to make a deal with a devil."

    This seems to give Kanna a few moments of pause, and she eats her meal thoughtfully for a short while for continuing. "I... I ain't gonna sit here and give you platitudes. I'm bad at that. I can do it if I have to, but... it ain't me. You're the only one who can decide what you deserve. Even if I do think you're being kinda hard on yourself." She sits back, and takes her bowl up in her hand, eating in a more relaxed posture. "But even if you look at it from purely practical reasons, I think you oughta try and break away. If you want to make amends, you can't do it with the same power that caused the problem. And I'd be willing to bet your God of Rot gets something out of having you as a follower, or else he'd probably be dumping you. So you breaking away weakens him, too."

"He got a new lease on relevance." Neviah looks down into the bowl of katsu, once again not really seeing it past her own thoughts. "I let the Cult see my research. Now some of them have become his followers too. Perhaps he already got from me what he needed, and it's time to cast me aside."

There's a moment's pause before Neviah blinks once. She looks up from the food to the little runaway across from her. In spite of herself, she attempts a smile. It's weak, but it's there. "You're kind, Crimson. I feel that I have dumped much on you. Perhaps it's unfair of me."

Her fingers momentarily tighten around the shaft of her fork. "If it is possible to free one's soul, I do not know. But perhaps there is some way to try and right some of the wrongs I set into motion.

"I just... need to think about how."

    Kanna doesn't reply immediately. But there's a faint little huff through her nose, and... is that a hint of red in her cheeks? Surely not. It must just be scattered light from her hair and scarf. "...Well, whatever you decide, I don't mind tagging along. I like a good fight, and I like kicking asses that deserve it." Her tone gets a little more serious. "And I wasn't kidding about my sword, either. 'Shinsatsufuu' means God-Killing Wind, and when the Goddess gave it to me, She told me no life is out of its reach. It all depends on my skill and will. So if someone or something needs killing, I'll do it. Even if I gotta bet my life on it."

"I don't know how useful I'll be. My powers come from the consent of Zehir. If I am to work against him, obviously he won't lend me his powers. Though I think I no longer wish to have it." Neviah smiles ruefully before gathering up another bite of food and nibbling it down.

"But," she says once she's swallowed, "I do know a lot about the Cult. Maybe that in itself has value."

Neviah folds her hands and dips her head, a touch of colour coming to her cheeks. "Thank you. I would be grateful for any help I can get, truly... and I /am/ grateful for letting me rant at you."

    There's a faint smile on Kanna's lips. "Never underestimate how important intelligence can be. It decides wars just as much as army strength. Oftentimes even more." She polishes off her own bowl, and then moves to stand up. "Hey, I had things on my mind too, so we helped each other. Just let me know what you decide you wanna do. I plan to be in the city for a while longer yet, so I'll be around." A pause. "...when you're done with your food, put the bowl in the kitchen. I'm setting mine off to one side, I'll clean up in the morning before the regular cook gets here."