The night was cold, and the moon hung low in the sky as Tsukiyomi strolled along the Heavenly Bridge amidst the myriad heavenly kami of the stars and moon, some of the other lunar deities accompanying him on their rounds for their cultures. A layer of snow reflected Tsukiyomi's reflected light from his elder sister, the sun kami Amaterasu, giving enough light that Amehana could see through her window as bright as the day. There was no breeze, for which the priestess was grateful, and pulled her several layers of kimono more tightly around herself.
In her office at home, her purple scales and teal feathers reflected the moonlight as eagerly as the snow did, their natural iridescence becoming more vivid. The moon prince kami was an old friend, and she could remember a time when he had gone into his sister's weaving hall and spent time observing her own weaving under one of her grandmothers... long ago, in a less physical existence. Tonight, however, she did not weave storm clouds, nor mist kimono, but instead words that she would submit to an instructor on another plane of existence.
The log in the kotatsu continued burning, but it was drawing to the end, and she waited for it. If she used the fire as a timer, she was less likely to stay up all night working. It was easy to do while her mate was out to sea on his ship, and the bed was less than warm and inviting with his absence. Amehana smiled shyly and blushed when thinking of his silver-white sheen, rich scent, and the way his blue eyes had that focused look beneath his tricorn hat – part of her soul coiling tighter around him while the rest of her soul more tenderly held the part of his that he had left with her, and returned her brush to her paper, making it dance like a snowflake in a blizzard and painting the words needed to finish her assignment. All the while, her daydreams made her somewhat aware of the affairs of his ship, and the way the weather was affecting his voyage.
A chime through her bones interrupted her work next, as something passed through the barriers around the home and the storm shrine's grounds. It was usual to feel as things ran headlong into or scrabbled at them at this late hour, hurled back with force and the flash of Sight that always came with such encounters as the Mist Guardian she created made a simultaneous report. Things did still roam this world with malicious intent – spiritual and physical. Those myriad malicious beings she always dealt with if they did manage to find a weakness to exploit the border. Her arrows, her katana, her spear, her claws... all had been bathed with blood more than once, and more than a few spirits had met their transformation or their sealing at her hands. This, though, was different... much more like the occasional Spiritual Seeker that wandered onto shrine grounds making omairi and seeking guidance after some emergency, or her healing skill.
She set her brush in the holder unrinsed and rose like a gust of wind, moving through the house swiftly and quietly as she could for the door, calling the storm staff to her hand. Blue and purple lightning coursed the silver length as the staff awakened in her hand. If the being's intentions changed while inside the barrier, she was armed and prepared. If the presence was indeed truly benevolent, then the staff was not going to be an offensive object to appear with, unlike her katana. Passing through the door, which shut behind her, her senses cast about again for the direction of the disturbance.
The night's chill more readily sank into her bones, despite clasping her teal feathered wings tight and mantling her head plumage just as firmly around her head and her mane. As she walked, she debated slipping to her kitsune form, the white fur of which would have provided another welcome layer of insulation. Ultimately, she decided not to, since her scales at least provided armor beneath her robes. Her eyes and senses cast about for whatever soul had wandered, most likely lost, onto the shrine grounds, then came crashing back to herself when she contacted the sought presence as she crested another hill.
The dragoness meeting her eyes was not large as dragonkind went, a bit larger than Amehana's current vaguely humanoid shape, and was walking on all fours. Amehana curled her tail around herself, cloaking herself in the mist that she always so readily could weave, allowing her purple and teal lights to dim.
“Who calls me and the resident kamisama at such a late hour?” Amehana asked from inside the mist she'd formed, allowing her voice to rumble and roll with the power of the storm she embodied. Unbidden, her inner lights flashed in the mini cloud.
“A hungry traveler, that seeketh nourishment, and hath heard tale of thine abilities... If thou art the Priestess Amehana. Prithee, assist.” The reply came softly in the priestess' mind, like a wisp of ice-mist.
“We are Amehana indeed. Why is it so important you look for me on such a cold night, instead of in the light and warmth of the day?”
Diamondixi did not flinch at either the tone, which was somehow both warm and inviting, and yet forbidding as a typhoon's gale all at once, nor from the strange lights within the mist that had so suddenly formed yet again, smelling of the flowers of spring and summer, and the rains of the whole year. Nor did she flinch, when the mist cleared to reveal – not the large purple and teal storm dragon she had expected, clad in silver armor and bells with lightning flashing from her eyes – but instead a short, slender, purple scaled, winged and tailed woman of human stature, clasping a silver staff with a six inch blue crystal with her head plumes clamped tight to conserve heat.
“Night ist mine time of greatest power. I am a Dreamweaver, thou shouldst know, and taketh mine sustenance from the dreamers that I influence. So it ist that I comest now, when I thoughtest thou wouldst be yet sleeping.”
“I don't sleep until late, usually.” Amehana beckoned the dragon and phoenix toward the shrine's living quarters and turned to head that direction. “I assume you are both ice element, but I am a far older storm dragon than I seem, so I will prepare tea, and some food, and you can tell me more of your tale inside. I hope the heat of the kotatsu for this body of mine will not be a problem for you.”
“No, not at all. Thank you.”
Dreamweaving Page 2