Skill: Heartbroken

Heavy was the scent of strangers. The great Fujiwara Dynasty had vanished from their claim as if they had never even been there at all; only the ghost of Osamu remained, silent and watchful on the shoreline. How bright the moon was - how it mocked him.

He had confessed his love to his Empress, the beautiful Izumi, and when it seemed at last that joy had found its way to him in the return of her warm embrace -

- she had vanished, along with the vast majority of her retinue.

Queen's Rest was a quiet graveyard of memories, and now fresh faces and strange scents had invaded its lush lands.

Osamu felt his stomach twist in revulsion. 外国からの侵略者, (Foreign invaders) he muttered under his breath. Well, if they wished to remove him, they would have to do so bodily and by the nape of his neck, he thought with stubborn resolution.

This was Izumi's place.

This was his place.

The Samurai sat, looking rigidly out toward the mainland with the hardened expression of a man trying hard not to weep.

The shore had become something that Kexin enjoyed, temporary or no. The sand was low-impact and made her joints hurt less, and there were plenty of small treasures washed up by the tide that she'd never seen before. Lian's musings must have truly been getting to her if she was looking for beauty in such small places, but here she was regardless.

It was a calm night, and one that Kexin reveled in. There was nothing to do at the moment, no one to aide and no overbearing pressure. She could relax and simply be.

In fact, so distracted was the healer that she did not initially see the sentry posted by the water. She paused when she caught sight of him, of the look on his face. There was nothing to guarantee they even spoke the same language, but she could not in good faith abandon someone who looked so in pain.

"Hello," she greeted, a soft call from a distance. Better to be safe than sorry, after all, though she did take a hesitant step forward before she spoke again: "Are you alright?"

Skill: Heartbroken

He detected the woman's approach long before she spoke. Left ear cocked at an angle, Osamu's jaw was set in a firm line as he listened to her tentative greeting. Her accent was strange; he could not place its origin, and he did not recognize her scent beyond that of one of the lingering foreigners who had encroached upon this sacred land.

Izumi's land.

As well as I can be, he said tersely, a hard line forming in his brow. The samurai had every intention of staying put, but he heard the feminine chimes to her tone, and it was morally correct to turn and acknowledge her presence.

Against his will, Osamu rose to his paws, faced her, and bowed.

A small bow - but nonetheless.

This is my home, he said bitterly, and the word echoed hollowly in his chest. Enlisting here in Queen's Rest as Izumi's guardian and mentor was the first time he had ever had a home.

'At least, I thought it was,' he thought.

The silver wolf grit his teeth, then lifted himself to look her in the eye.

All of his anger and strength left him at once. She was just a woman, and she had done him no wrong.

I am Osamu, he said gruffly. ... What is left of him.

It was clear that the man did not wish to talk, but talk he did, and Kexin's ears angled toward him in turn. The interaction was an odd one, the grief in the air palpable.

Osamu. A name that sounded familiar and yet slightly foreign as well. Rounded and soft around the edges, unlike this man, who had clearly lived a difficult life.

Before she could respond, another set of paw steps approached, and Kexin fought the urge to roll her eyes at Rihe's barbed tone. They had yet to claim this land, and there was no need to cause any strife between Tianlong and these people.

Sparing the younger woman a brief glance, the healer supposed it was only polite to acknowledge her, even if she might have been too sharp for the situation. "How wonderful it is to learn new things," she said with a polite smile of her own. There was no malice in her words - only her typical gentle, level tone. After, Kexin turned her attention back to Osamu, dipping her head in a bow of her own.

"I am Hua Kexin of Tianlong. Thank you for your hospitality," she said, hoping to echo Yue's disarming tone in her own. She could not speak for the Emperor and Empress, but she could certainly speak for herself. "I apologize for interrupting your night, but you looked pained, and I could not in good faith leave you without at least checking to make sure you weren't injured."

Skill: Heartbroken

Where the dark-furred stranger had made an attempt at politeness, this sharp-eyed woman who now approached held an entirely different carriage about her. Although her expression remained stoic and utterly impassive, Osamu could see how her nostrils subtly flared as she took in his scent; assessing him, his origins.

Well, she would be hard-pressed to find any lie in his statement.

You heard me correctly, he said gruffly. As miserable as he felt, she would not ruffle him further. There was a strange accent to their speech, he noted, one wholly unfamiliar to the aging Samurai, and he wondered if it was cultural to behave so imperiously toward a grizzled warrior simply trying to have a quiet moment to himself.

Hua Kexin appeared to be more invested in keeping the conversation light, offering a small olive branch of polite commentary to break up the awkward moment.

Not cultural, he surmised.

I would hardly call myself hospitable, but the gesture is kind, Osamu replied. His eyes turned back to sea, silver gaze stretching, reaching, longing hopelessly for a horizon and a future that now seemed forever lost to him. The injury is within, Hua Kexin. It cannot be mended by a healer's touch.

What inner strength he still possessed flagged in the visible slump of his shoulders.

It was, perhaps, a matter of time. One man cannot guard a kingdom of ghosts.