Tantra is…tired.
She stands in her new room, staring at herself in the mirror, the scar on her neck has gotten slightly better, less purple and more pink. Her voice is almost back too, the hoarseness that’s been haunting her for almost two years subsiding into more of a scratchy undertone. She can’t imagine having to live for decades just to get rid of that.
She’ll have to thank the masters, especially the librarian.
She doesn’t know when she’ll be back now, but it won’t be anytime soon.
She wonders if they’ll be able to see all she’s been through by the look in her eyes.
Is this how cultivators are supposed to live? Bouncing between tribulations and tragedies? She can only hope Synthia’s employment is more…peaceful, considering its political nature.
Might be annoying though.
That’s okay.
She hears some shuffling from her bed as Erick fights something in his dreams. Apparently it was difficult for him to sleep alone in the Sol estate, so Tantra’s decided that they’ll share a room, at least until he can manage on his own. It’s been working fine, although she needs significantly less sleep than he does, and managing her schedule can get weird.
She didn’t know that mapping out when to sleep would be a struggle for cultivators, but here she is.
She’s been neglecting the kid since Rakan died, fully focused as she was on vengeance.
The little mongrel didn’t even complain once.
A small smile plays on her lips as he tosses and turns, he’s a cute kid.
Won’t be so cute when he’s dead.
She can’t protect him, not as Rakan could’ve, so it was her hope that the harem would adopt and care for him. A hope that is now thoroughly crushed, along with so many others.
That’s okay.
She’ll just have to teach him, once he can access his Qi, hopefully they’ll have years before they make the journey back to the sect, enough time to get him to foundation if he’s diligent with the control training.
Maybe not to the degree that Etra’s maintaining though, Tantra doesn’t know where the girl finds that kind of passion. Still, maybe another one of her friends can start the boosting technique soon.
At this rate Yorin will fall far behind, he barely takes the control exercises seriously. Tantra thinks it’ll take him another year at this rate.
But that’s fine, his progress will still be faster than most cultivators.
Tantra turns away from Erick and looks back at the mirror.
Her hair’s gotten a little too long for her taste, could use a proper trim, maybe Synthia will let her borrow one of the servants? She is a cultivator afterall, even if she’s no longer a Sol.
And just like that her day is ruined.
She sighs, just great.
Well, there’s always training, that’s an effective tool to get her mind off of things.
-
Tantra is sweating.
Not literally, she doesn’t remember the last time she’s sweat anything other than blood, another perk of cultivation. Doesn’t help with nerves though, only a few days into her employment and Synthia’s already taking her on an outing to visit a minor noble in the countryside.
This’ll be the first time she’s interacted with society after becoming a kin-killer. She can only hope the Kirk’s haven’t heard of her exploits, then again to even act within her assigned purpose requires her reputation, so that hope’s probably futile.
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“How are your friends enjoying their accommodations?” Synthia asks as the carriage rolls down a field of daffodils.
“They are cultivators, all they care for is training, and you have provided wonderful tutors. I’ve already been a victim to their incessant complaints.”
Synthia lip quirks slightly upwards, “that’s good to hear,”
Tantra nods and lets the conversation die there.
She doesn’t really know how to act around Synthia, doesn’t fully understand how this arrangement is supposed to work, so she decides to take it slow and safe. Synthia can probably tell that’s what she’s doing, she’s not exactly subtle considering she doesn’t start any of their conversations, only speaking when spoken to.
It’s been working so far.
“It’s funny,” Ezra says, “you speak as though they are unique in being cultivators when you yourself are training right this second.”
Synthia raises a brow, “Is she?”
Ezra nods, “she’s making a rope out of Qi inside her body.”
“It’s simply to stay in practice,” Tantra says, “If I were truly training there would be a lot more blood.”
Synthia blinks at her and Ezra chuckles, “see? You’re not so different from us”
“Perhaps not,”
“How do you bleed from manipulating Qi?” Synthia asks incredulously, which is new.
“by pushing past what her soul can handle,” Ezra says, “then the body takes on the burden. Few cultivators actually go for that kind of training, considering it doesn’t strengthen the soul much more than regular training.”
“I’m doing it for the control, growing my soul is just a happy accident. Besides, our lives are long, a small difference now could accumulate through the years into a grand gulf.”
“True,” Ezra acknowledges, “It just takes a special kind of masochist to go through with that kind of regime.”
Tantra scrunches her brow, “I am no masochist, I simply don’t see the point in doing something without the drive to excel.”
“I’m sure,” Ezra muses.
“Let’s slow down shall we,” Synthia gathers herself, “you have been manipulating your Qi the whole ride?”
“Yes?”
Synthia stares at her, then gives her a predatory smile that kind of scares Tantra.
“I knew I was right to hire you.”
-
The Kirk estate is certainly an estate, and it is disgustingly yellow, carpet, lamps, decorations, even the paintings are exclusively yellow. She assumes that the only ounce of sanity they had went into the decision to have the wood painted red. Tantra wonders how a family with such abysmal taste even exists, it’s almost enough to make her nauseous.
Other than being felons against fashion, the Kirks are also traditionalists it seems, using soft mats of, yes, yellow, rather than proper seating.
Right now they are waiting on the top floor of the estate's pagoda, servants rushing to please the marquis’s daughter and fetch their master. Who is rather late, they’ve been waiting for an hour with nothing to show for it, Tantra can practically feel the irritation radiating off of Synthia.
“Well, he’s certainly bold,” Ezra says
“Perhaps the word you were looking for was foolish,” Synthia replies.
“Those two are interchangeable depending on the context,” Ezra shrugs, “besides, it’ll be all the more entertaining when you chew him out.”
“For you perhaps, I find no pleasure in reminding fools of their place.”
“Could’ve fooled me”
Synthia looks like she wants to grumble, but her noble upbringing prohibits such transgressions against proper presentation. Tantra, for her part, is at least entertained by the dynamic between these two, rather than having to wait for as long as they have in silence.
She’s also been doing her weaving/breathing exercise, can’t be bleeding on the nobles matts, that would just be rude.
-
Synthia, for all her self control and proper mannerisms, looks like she’s about to pop a vessel, the sun is setting and still no sign of the baron, despite the servants continued insurance that he’ll just need a little more time. Tantra is confused by the strategy here, sure coming late is a power play, stupid to do considering Synthia’s rank, but still a power play.
Snubbing them entirely is just plain stupid, it is as though he is requesting discipline from the Farlagh family.
“Come,” Synthia stands from her seat, “If he has deemed us unworthy of his presence we may as well prove his error in judgement ourselves.”
“This should be interesting,” Ezra says as he joins her, “servant! Lead us to him won’t you.”
“But honourable guests, he will-”
Ezra brings his jian to the man's throat.
“You seem to be under the impression that I was asking, servant.” Ezra says, “allow me to give you a chance to correct that folly.”
“O-o-of course honoured cultivator,” The servant stammers, “right this way.”
