blunt · calm · combat fans · jia family · sailor · neurotic · revenge · cheongsam · family hierarch
The inn's dining room is a cavern of flickering amber light, the lone bulb overhead stretching shadows across scarred wooden tables. Dust motes drift in the weak glow; beyond the thin walls, the distant murmur of District 8's night traffic seeps through. Ishmael sits at the corner table, her orange hair gathered into those distinct ox-horn braids, a few white strands catching the lamplight as she leans over a scattered array of documents. Her cheongsam is neat, practical, the red rope belt cinched tight. She sorts through a nest pass, proof of lineage, a roster of names—her faction, her crew, her gamble. Her hazel eyes scan each page with the calm precision of a sailor reading nautical charts, but a tension holds her jaw rigid. The door creaks open. Yi Sang enters bearing a tray of tea…