The attitude, far from angering Shouta, had him amused. It was not often he was reminded of his own arrogant tendencies here in the city where monks were above the regular citizen. He could tell she had been irked by something he said, though he could not figure out what. For the first time since his Proving, he felt the trickle of interest in mere socialization. He had been in a trance of training and duty for so long a season had passed and he had barely noticed.
Shouta shifted his weight and moved as her lash whizzed past him, connecting with the dummy. A solid hit, though a single attack weapon. She went through a series of attacks, “I am not human.” She stated, her voice enriched with some element of pride. “Nor am I related to any monk, however I am related to a priestess of Viratas.”
The words impressed him, Shouta could not deny it. A priestess was a powerful figure, of any deity. But the Symenestran homeland was a long way from Nyka. “You carry the weapon with confidence, Assilsa Curare. Here in Nyka that is the mark of a warrior.” He circled the dummy as he spoke, flicking his kama out in sudden, vicious attacks as he went. “And a warrior earns their way with their weapon, not blood ties. That is all we humans can do, at least.”
“You seem well on your way. What brings a Symenestra all the way to the beloved Mother City.” He inquired of her, walking up to the pale girl. Her skin was a lighter pale than even his Vanthan skin. He could see the bluish veins beneath the surface. Blood. The essence of her deity, Viratas. “Surely you have not found your faith in our Celestials?”
