On quiet pawsteps, the ocelot walked into festival hub – all four eyes darting around to look at the pretty decorations. From the glowing crystals jutting from the ceiling to the assorted flowers, a sense of calm draped over her shoulders like a cozy blanket. Carefully, she arrived at one of the tables to set down a basket of her tea supplies. She set about making a fresh pot of green tea, passing a cup to any of the tired volunteers that wandered by.

Spotting Jiyu not too far off, dispensing orders and handling the organization, the spotted wildcat levitated two cups and walked over to the vizier. Rosemary still worried about the woman’s back; nothing she tried seemed to help Jiyu with the pain or shrink the bumps beneath the skin. And even as the savannah waved off her concerns, continuing to press on with her duties, the physician knew the agony the vizier suppressed.

“I can handle hunting a ram – presumably, we won’t sacrifice it?” Rosemary spoke up, her right ear flicking nervously. She hated seeing the sacrifices; the witch largely tried to ignore the religion that Sephorith pushed on the rest of the group, avoiding any rumors of sacrifices taking place in the territory. And she succeeded, except when one was dragged out in front of her during a meeting. “I would rather not… considering the winter season, that is,” she added, unsure how strongly the vizier felt attached to those ‘traditions.’

Clearing her throat, she waved a paw and levitated one of her tea cups closer to Jiyu. “I made a fresh batch – you look tired, the caffeine will help keep you focused,” she spoke, trying to appeal to Jiyu’s efficiency. She knew the savannah often pushed herself too far; dehydration, naturally, was one of the many things Rosemary worried about with her.

Nodding, the physician breathed out a small sigh – relief, perhaps. Sacrifices bothered her deeply; even weeks after seeing the young lion bleed out on the ground, his face haunted her at night. No meditation or tea could help take the glazed expression off her mind. She started to hate Sephorith for it; the ocelot thought she might grow accustomed to seeing such violence here, but time proved her wrong.

She knew violence and war, from the time she spent in the Typhoon. But pirates always fought for a reason. They never endangered their lives because a voice in their head told them so, and she knew them best by the injuries they acquired by fighting for resources or attacking threats to the group. Violence never bothered her, and she always enjoyed cleaning up the wounds a bit more than she should… but seeing a soul, a life, a body wasted hurt in a way she failed to understand.

“Good. I don’t want trouble with the aspects, but sacrifices – especially during the holidays – seems an unnecessary way to go about it,” she replied, more explicit in her opinions this time. Though she did check over her shoulder once, as though afraid that Sephorith or one of his more zealous followers might overhear. And she hated herself for that, too; though she tried to boost her fighting ability, none of that confidence in the battlefield transferred over here. And she wondered if she would ever stop feeling like a scared little bird. “I like the candles idea – and the wreaths, have we always had these traditions here?” she asked, looking momentarily around at the decorations around the tables and the naked tree. Jiyu certainly knew how to organize things; though something in the way the woman spoke made Rosemary think she thought in far too practical terms.

The woman’s blue eyes snapped back to Jiyu, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth for a second. “I see more than most, remember?” she said, tapping the side of her head with a paw. These days, few people reacted with surprise at her mutations, but the looks never really stopped. Besides, it was a huge advantage in many ways – especially while she learned how to levitate with Bai Shi – so Rosemary never forgot the differences between her and most animals.

She started to realize that she saw more than simply more precise depth perception, too. At first, it made little sense that nobody in the group drew attention to the flashes in Jiyu’s cloudy aura – but, if she ignored the storm raging around the vizier, it became clear why people treated her like a feelingless thing. Rosemary understood why now, but knowledge failed to make her any less frustrated with the rest of the group. If she were being honest with herself, too, she felt frustrated at how she, despite her efforts, ultimately failed to chip away at the vizier's armor. If she just reached in there... she knew what she could do to help the traumatized woman.