Kitsuki found herself in the dark under-theater of Tamanay Hall. The illustrious mega-concert was the center of musical art in Kirigakure and given Kit's status she had freedom of access. Once news of her role in the death of the two Mizukage became public, however, she was given exclusive access. If she wanted something, she got it. Everyone either feared or admired her, but nearly all tried to curry favor with her. Every musician she had known had reached out and offered the world to her. She could be first chair of any instrument in the Triumphant Aquatic Orchesta. Hell, they'd probably even let her conduct if she asked. That's the way things were in the Isles. Strength was respected above all else. So many ninja were violent psychopaths that when a major death like this happened, everyone knew who to get on board with and fast. Nikuyo had set the tone for Kiri and almost every Kage had followed in his footsteps.
It all felt wrong. Kitsuki didn't want their slavish obedience. She didn't want them to fear her. She did want the respect of the oh-so-haughty TAO elite but not like this. Nevertheless, she accepted their loyalty. She couldn't afford to have people questioning her decisions not when she was more or less the commander of the military. The Emperor and his inner circle had gone quiet. They wanted to see how things played out and in their silence, she was given near total control over the nation's affairs. It was a lot. She played the role well but in the aftermath of Hana and Kyoji's death, she found herself often going to the under-theater to play out the emotions that she kept bottled inside.
The under-theater of Tammany Hall was constructed so that the TAO and other high class musicians could practice in secret. This way no one could hear or steal their innovations. The aristocracy would also be surprised when the actual performance was due. In modern times, the TAO and other musicians had their own private rehearsal sets but every now and again, an old school classical musician liked to practice where his predecessors did. Kit was one such musician.
She walked over to the piano and sat down. The room had been lit with candles in preparation for her arrival but there was no one around except her and Zizz. The tiny Angel rested on her shoulder. They had spoken at length after the fight. They had talked about Zizz's homeworld, about her true purpose on Earth, and about the ally that Kit had relied on but could not fully trust. There were no more secrets between them now. Any barriers to their understanding had been broken down by the ferocity of the fight. Zizz was different. She was stronger and shone brighter. She had not totally lost her whimsical nature but there was an edge to her now. The Gedo Mazou had shaken her up pretty bad and no matter how much she tied to hide it, Kit could tell it concerned her.
Even more troubling was that despite their strengthened bond, they were still at odds on how to handle Arisu. The alien was angry with Kitsuki and the distrust that still divided them. She did not want to be viewed as evil and power-hungry. After all, who did? Arisu had been through so much and despite it all, she still fought for the side of good. By all rights, Kit should trust her with her life and yet...
Those eyes...those bars.....
Kit wasn't sure what to say to Arisu or how to handle her, but she knew they'd need to work together. The bone she had thrown her with respect to the Ryo and Exclusives was not enough. She needed to show Arisu that she trusted her but that trust came with certain expectations. It was a compromise that Zizz was not entirely happy with, but they were in this together and Kit was captain of the ship. The Angel had agreed to try to be more accommodating to the invader.
ⵉ'ⵎ ⵙoⵔⵔⵢ ⴰⴱoⵓⵜ ⵡⵀⴰⵜ ⵀⴰppⴻⵏⴻⴷ ⵜo ⵢoⵓⵔ ⵀoⴻⵎⵡoⵔⵍⴷ ⵣⵉⵣⵣ....ⵢoⵓ ⵙⵀoⵓⵍoⴷⵏ'ⵜ ⵀⴰⵠⴻ ⵀⴰⴷ ⵜo ⴻⵅpⴻⵔⵉⴻⵏⵛⴻ ⵜⵀⴰⵜ ⴰⵏⴷ ⵉⴼ ⵜⵀⴻⵔⴻ ⴰⵔⴻ ⴰⵏⵢ oⴼ ⵜⵀoⵙⴻ ⵛoⵍoⵏⵉⵣⴻⵔⵙ ⵍⵓⵔⴽⵉⵏⴳ oⵏ ⵜⵀⵉⵙ pⵍⴰⵏⴻⵜ....ⵡⴻ'ⵍⵍ ⴷⴻⵙⵜⵔoⵢ ⵜⵀⴻⵎ. ⵜoⴳⴻⵜⵀⴻⵔ. ⴱⵓⵜ ⵉ ⵡoⵏ'ⵜ pⴰⵉⵏⵜ ⴰⵔⵉⵙⵓ ⵉⵏ ⵜⵀⴻ ⵙⴰⵎⴻ ⵍⵉⴳⵀⵜ ⵊⵓⵙⵜ ⴱⴻⵛⴰⵓⵙⴻ ⵙⵀⴻ ⵙⵀⴰⵔⴻⵙ ⵜⵀⴻⵉⵔ ⴳⴻⵏⴻⵙ. ⵉⵜⵙ ⵏoⵜ ⵔⵉⴳⵀⵜ. ⵙⵀⴻ ⵡⴰⵙ pⵔoⴱⴰⴱⵍⵢ ⵜⴰⵓⴳⵀⵜ ⵡⵔoⵏⴳ ⴱⵓⵜ ⵡⴻ ⵛⴰⵏ ⵀⴻⵍp ⵀⴻⵔ ⵣⵉⵣⵣ. ⵡⴻ ⵛⴰⵏ ⴱⴻ ⴼoⵔ ⵀⴻⵔ ⵡⵀⴰⵜ ⵙⵓⴽⵉⵎoⵔⵉ ⵡⴰⵙ ⴼoⵔ ⵎⴻ. ⵊⵓⵙⵜ ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜ ⵎⴻ.
ⵉ ⵀopⴻ ⵢoⵓ'ⵔⴻ ⵔⵉⴳⵀⵜ ⴽⵉⵜⵙⵓⴽⵉ...ⵉ ⵔⴻⴰⵍⵍⵢ ⴷo. ⵍⴻⴰⴷ ⵛⵔⴻⴰⵜoⵔ ⵎⴰⵍⵛoⵍⵎ ⵙⴰⵉⴷ ⵜⵀⴰⵜ ⵜⵀⴻ oⵏⵍⵢ ⵜⵀⵉⵏⴳ ⵡoⵔⵙⴻ ⵜⵀⴰⵏ ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜⵉⵏⴳ ⴰ ⵛoⵍoⵏⵉⵣⴻⵔ....ⵡⴰⵙ ⴼⴰⵉⵍⵉⵏⴳ ⵜo ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜ ⵢoⵓⵔ ⵀoⵙⵜ. ⵉ ⵜⵀⵉⵏⴽ ⵀⴻ ⴽⵏⴻⵡ ⵜⵀoⵙⴻ ⵜⵡo ⵠⴰⵍⵓⴻⵙ ⵡoⵓⵍⴷ ⵛoⵏⵜⵔⴰⴷⵉⵛⵜ ⵡⵀⵉⵛⵀ ⵉⵙ ⵡⵀⵢ ⵀⴻ ⵙⴰⵉⴷ ⵉⵜ. ⴱⵓⵜ ⵉⵜ ⴷoⴻⵙⵏ'ⵜ ⵎⴰⴽⴻ ⵉⵜ ⴰⵏⵢ ⴻⴰⵙⵉⴻⵔ...
The difficulty of the interpersonal situation at hand and the political situation at large was pressing down on Kit. She was going to explode if she couldn't release it and the only way she knew how was to make music. Kitsuki began to play the piano with the vigor and intensity of a woman possessed. Katsumi had always blown off steam by working out and sparring. Kit was now stronger than her and perhaps stronger than anyone else in Kiri, but violence never really did it for her. Turning sound into art on the other hand, was pure bliss.
It all felt wrong. Kitsuki didn't want their slavish obedience. She didn't want them to fear her. She did want the respect of the oh-so-haughty TAO elite but not like this. Nevertheless, she accepted their loyalty. She couldn't afford to have people questioning her decisions not when she was more or less the commander of the military. The Emperor and his inner circle had gone quiet. They wanted to see how things played out and in their silence, she was given near total control over the nation's affairs. It was a lot. She played the role well but in the aftermath of Hana and Kyoji's death, she found herself often going to the under-theater to play out the emotions that she kept bottled inside.
The under-theater of Tammany Hall was constructed so that the TAO and other high class musicians could practice in secret. This way no one could hear or steal their innovations. The aristocracy would also be surprised when the actual performance was due. In modern times, the TAO and other musicians had their own private rehearsal sets but every now and again, an old school classical musician liked to practice where his predecessors did. Kit was one such musician.
She walked over to the piano and sat down. The room had been lit with candles in preparation for her arrival but there was no one around except her and Zizz. The tiny Angel rested on her shoulder. They had spoken at length after the fight. They had talked about Zizz's homeworld, about her true purpose on Earth, and about the ally that Kit had relied on but could not fully trust. There were no more secrets between them now. Any barriers to their understanding had been broken down by the ferocity of the fight. Zizz was different. She was stronger and shone brighter. She had not totally lost her whimsical nature but there was an edge to her now. The Gedo Mazou had shaken her up pretty bad and no matter how much she tied to hide it, Kit could tell it concerned her.
Even more troubling was that despite their strengthened bond, they were still at odds on how to handle Arisu. The alien was angry with Kitsuki and the distrust that still divided them. She did not want to be viewed as evil and power-hungry. After all, who did? Arisu had been through so much and despite it all, she still fought for the side of good. By all rights, Kit should trust her with her life and yet...
Those eyes...those bars.....
Kit wasn't sure what to say to Arisu or how to handle her, but she knew they'd need to work together. The bone she had thrown her with respect to the Ryo and Exclusives was not enough. She needed to show Arisu that she trusted her but that trust came with certain expectations. It was a compromise that Zizz was not entirely happy with, but they were in this together and Kit was captain of the ship. The Angel had agreed to try to be more accommodating to the invader.
ⵉ'ⵎ ⵙoⵔⵔⵢ ⴰⴱoⵓⵜ ⵡⵀⴰⵜ ⵀⴰppⴻⵏⴻⴷ ⵜo ⵢoⵓⵔ ⵀoⴻⵎⵡoⵔⵍⴷ ⵣⵉⵣⵣ....ⵢoⵓ ⵙⵀoⵓⵍoⴷⵏ'ⵜ ⵀⴰⵠⴻ ⵀⴰⴷ ⵜo ⴻⵅpⴻⵔⵉⴻⵏⵛⴻ ⵜⵀⴰⵜ ⴰⵏⴷ ⵉⴼ ⵜⵀⴻⵔⴻ ⴰⵔⴻ ⴰⵏⵢ oⴼ ⵜⵀoⵙⴻ ⵛoⵍoⵏⵉⵣⴻⵔⵙ ⵍⵓⵔⴽⵉⵏⴳ oⵏ ⵜⵀⵉⵙ pⵍⴰⵏⴻⵜ....ⵡⴻ'ⵍⵍ ⴷⴻⵙⵜⵔoⵢ ⵜⵀⴻⵎ. ⵜoⴳⴻⵜⵀⴻⵔ. ⴱⵓⵜ ⵉ ⵡoⵏ'ⵜ pⴰⵉⵏⵜ ⴰⵔⵉⵙⵓ ⵉⵏ ⵜⵀⴻ ⵙⴰⵎⴻ ⵍⵉⴳⵀⵜ ⵊⵓⵙⵜ ⴱⴻⵛⴰⵓⵙⴻ ⵙⵀⴻ ⵙⵀⴰⵔⴻⵙ ⵜⵀⴻⵉⵔ ⴳⴻⵏⴻⵙ. ⵉⵜⵙ ⵏoⵜ ⵔⵉⴳⵀⵜ. ⵙⵀⴻ ⵡⴰⵙ pⵔoⴱⴰⴱⵍⵢ ⵜⴰⵓⴳⵀⵜ ⵡⵔoⵏⴳ ⴱⵓⵜ ⵡⴻ ⵛⴰⵏ ⵀⴻⵍp ⵀⴻⵔ ⵣⵉⵣⵣ. ⵡⴻ ⵛⴰⵏ ⴱⴻ ⴼoⵔ ⵀⴻⵔ ⵡⵀⴰⵜ ⵙⵓⴽⵉⵎoⵔⵉ ⵡⴰⵙ ⴼoⵔ ⵎⴻ. ⵊⵓⵙⵜ ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜ ⵎⴻ.
ⵉ ⵀopⴻ ⵢoⵓ'ⵔⴻ ⵔⵉⴳⵀⵜ ⴽⵉⵜⵙⵓⴽⵉ...ⵉ ⵔⴻⴰⵍⵍⵢ ⴷo. ⵍⴻⴰⴷ ⵛⵔⴻⴰⵜoⵔ ⵎⴰⵍⵛoⵍⵎ ⵙⴰⵉⴷ ⵜⵀⴰⵜ ⵜⵀⴻ oⵏⵍⵢ ⵜⵀⵉⵏⴳ ⵡoⵔⵙⴻ ⵜⵀⴰⵏ ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜⵉⵏⴳ ⴰ ⵛoⵍoⵏⵉⵣⴻⵔ....ⵡⴰⵙ ⴼⴰⵉⵍⵉⵏⴳ ⵜo ⵜⵔⵓⵙⵜ ⵢoⵓⵔ ⵀoⵙⵜ. ⵉ ⵜⵀⵉⵏⴽ ⵀⴻ ⴽⵏⴻⵡ ⵜⵀoⵙⴻ ⵜⵡo ⵠⴰⵍⵓⴻⵙ ⵡoⵓⵍⴷ ⵛoⵏⵜⵔⴰⴷⵉⵛⵜ ⵡⵀⵉⵛⵀ ⵉⵙ ⵡⵀⵢ ⵀⴻ ⵙⴰⵉⴷ ⵉⵜ. ⴱⵓⵜ ⵉⵜ ⴷoⴻⵙⵏ'ⵜ ⵎⴰⴽⴻ ⵉⵜ ⴰⵏⵢ ⴻⴰⵙⵉⴻⵔ...
The difficulty of the interpersonal situation at hand and the political situation at large was pressing down on Kit. She was going to explode if she couldn't release it and the only way she knew how was to make music. Kitsuki began to play the piano with the vigor and intensity of a woman possessed. Katsumi had always blown off steam by working out and sparring. Kit was now stronger than her and perhaps stronger than anyone else in Kiri, but violence never really did it for her. Turning sound into art on the other hand, was pure bliss.