Root of the East
"What do you think?"
"It's a freehold. You've never seen one before?"
"No."
"Will you never get older?"
Rivers Between Us smiled and punched the elemental's shoulder. Root of the East looked at him evenly, his eyes never wavering. First among his jokun to bear the privelege of a name, he was also the only one that dared to mock him, one of the fringe benefits of possessing an ego. "You're lucky I'm short on servants these days."
"Should I wake the Skies?"
"Nah. She was piloting all night." He smiled and covered his eyes against the purple light. "How tough could they be? That armor looks like it's made of... glass."
"Do you have any protection against shaping?"
"Not... as such..."
"How did we get here?"
"This thing is harder to fly than it looks. Well... actually, no, it's about as hard to drive a flying pagoda as it looks, come to think of it."
Root of the East gestured with one club-fist. "I think that one wants to fight you."
"Yeah, he's waving his sword and shouting something, all right." Rivers sighed and began climbing over the railing.
"Shouldn't you get your swords... and such?"
"They're wearing glass, and his sword is a spray of daisies. I'll just throw a rock as his breastplate and be done with it."
"Right." Root of the East heaved a sigh and went back into the pagoda. "I'll just get them... in case... uh... they want to see them. Or something."
