The endless flow of words had finally ceased. The pages were now someone else's responsibility. Yua remembered the strangest scraps of the entire thing. She supposed that Shiba, being divine, could hold the thing entire in his mind, picking the depth of meaning from it.

For herself, now that she'd snapped out of that concentrated state of letting words flow to the page, she realized how long it had been since she'd had anything more than tea. The Dining Hall should at least have some cold noodles or something still around to snack on...porridge, maybe? She wasn't about to be picky.

Yua slips quietly into the room with a yawn, wandering over to see what the servants have on hand.

Kogi isn't sleepy yet (tea and company had seen to that, for better or worse), but enough other guests have already retired to make the guest quarters a space of enforced quiet, at least if she wants to keep the goodwill of her neighbors for however long everyone is stuck here. Instead she is soothing her restless fingers on the strings of her koto here, in a corner of the mostly empty dining hall. A knowledgeable listener would probably recognize that she's neither incredibly skilled nor a total amateur at this; at the moment she's playing around the frame of an easy piece.

Reaching the end of the tune, she interlaces her fingers and stretches out her hands, sending ripples down the length of her silk veil as she rolls some stiffness out of her neck.

--
D5 LE--fluff musical interlude, Perform: Koto/Agi, probably... 15?: 4d10o10k3 33

Carrying a bowl of porridge, topped by a plate of nuts and dried fruit, and a cup of tea in the other hand, Yua quietly drifts closer to the music, settling in at a table with as little clatter as humanly possible. But...a little clatter because she is definitely human.

She stretches her own hands out, pressing the fingertips together, palms facing, to stretch the kinks of a day's worth of writing out before attempting to hold a spoon.

As the music stills, she offers a faint smile and inclination of her head. "I hadn't expected much of anyone to still be in here, much less so active. But the music is appreciated."

Is it? Does it make you feel warm? or is it fuzzy? You know that picking the blandest porridge doesn't matter? You might as well take a plate of sweets, I'm not hating you any less for being able to taste..

Yua somewhat pointedly dumps the plate of fruit and nuts into the rice porridge, providing sweetness and texture to the bland soupiness. Her eyes slide sideways, slowly to the left where her invisible companion has stopped in shock and anger. Yua makes the tiniest of shrugs as her eyes return to focus upon the masked musician.

"This one is Ryoshun Yua. Finding a break after all the writing."

"Too many words rolling around to sleep yet," the veiled courtier says with a slight shake of her head. "Other people all around the capital tonight are finding their own ways to clear that away, probably." She plucks three or four more idle notes, hanging not-words at the end of the sentence, then stills the strings with one hand and makes casual seated bow. "Bayushi Kogi. Good to meet you, Ryoshun-san."

"Also, nice to meet you, Bayushi-sama. And your instrument."

The small Bat nods carefully. "So, so many words. I will hear their voices for days, I fear, and I may not write anything for a few days." Her voice is a warm monotone. There are some shifts in pace that provide some semblance of a cadence to her speech.

"I feel as if I should have learned something from all of that, but...it's like drinking a waterfall and just swimming to shore still thirsty."

Kogi's brows arch; it's somewhat more noticeable than it might be on someone else, since they are part of the half-portion of her face that's actually visible. "That sounds better than drowning, at least."

She glances down at her instrument for a moment but doesn't actually touch the strings, brushing an invisible bit of dust from the polished wood instead. "It's the reason for writing it all down, so people can go back and figure out what he actually means... later. If he knows himself." There's a note of uncertainty there; Shinsei had certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about, but at the moment Kogi feels less than qualified to evaluate.

A faint smile lifts before Yua digs into her porridge with a small nod at the interest in not drowning."

"I mean, I felt like I understood it in the moment." She lifts a hand, palm up and fingers spread. "But like water, I couldn't hold that understanding if I wanted to understand and write down the next bit. A question that keeps rising in my thoughts as well is 'why now?' Why has he come this particular winter to talk with the Emperor?"

"That's... a good question." So good that Kogi is a bit chagrined about not having thought of it herself. "The other monks in the capital this winter are rather active, too. Feeling more ambitious for a place in his Majesty the Emperor's plans?" Though, having said it, she looks down and away at a corner of her table, immediately self-conscious about that statement. Perhaps one wasn't supposed to discuss monks in those terms?

If one wasn't, Yua wasn't aware. Having only a very rudimentary grasp of Etiquette, and monks not being a big part of any such instruction to begin with, they're fair game as far as she's concerned. "Maybe? It seems like...well they set themselves aside from the run of things, specifically to have time to think about things." The steady monotone does at least confer a calm and thoughtful air to her comments. "But then, if anyone is to benefit from that wisdom, they somehow need to...bring it to those with the power to do anything with it? I guess the Emperor is at the top of that list, and very scholarly."

"If anyone can make sense of all that, it's a walking god," Kogi agrees. "I don't know. The other monks I met in the capital this winter were very practical sorts--it surprised me. But this Little Teacher is different."

"I think," Yua says slowly, as if the thought is still compiling into actual words after the day of having to keep her own thoughts well away from the flow of words to avoid tampering with them. "I think that this is perhaps practical for gods? While most monks are trying to teach mere people who have much smaller and more pragmatic lives."

"I... hm." Kogi tries to evaluate this idea, but swiftly concludes that, by definition, she may not be qualified to do so. Though there's something that doesn't sit quite right in that conclusion, either... and trying to pin it down threatens to pin her between the eyes with a headache. Probably from staring at her own handwriting too long, really; it only feels like it's the content of those pages that's causing the symptom, rather than the eyestrain.

She sighs--the veil puffs out a bit--and says, "Maybe so? That would describe our Monk Kuu and Monk Nozomi well enough. But Shinsei is a mortal man, as far as I know? And I didn't think he was talking only to Emperor Shiba. Although now that you say it, I'm not sure."

There's a faraway look, "I think he's talking to more than the Emperor, yes, but..." There's a pause to take a bite of her porridge and think this idea through, chewing both. "Some wisdom is for everyone. And then there's some that I think you only need when you have some power and need to hold it with care. The Kami are...really far up that scale." Another slow mouthful. "And Shinsei is mortal, but somehow special? At least the stories I heard of him made him seem so."

She looks down, bits of bead and leather in her hair set swinging, "Besides, even if I didn't think he was special, they seem to. So if he's the one to give them a good solid bit of mortal wisdom, well, good for him?"

"Not for the first time, either." Kogi's right hand drifts up to touch one of the pins securing the end of her veil to her braided hair. She might be making some imperceptible adjustment, or possibly just reminding herself it's there. "He was even at the tournament of the Kami." She doesn't comment on the fact that Shinsei doesn't look nearly old enough for that; by now, long youth is a known trait among the people the gods favor.

"It's a pity no one thought to write down what he had to say back then. Advice that moved the world, but only he and the gods know what some of it was... I wonder if he's more direct when only a few people are listening. Or even less direct."

"Moved the world. Hmmm." There is a small sigh. "So now we come back to wondering what this...happening now...might move and change. Maybe I'll have some idea tomorrow when I can stand to think about all those words again."

She sets the spoon down, flexing her hands. "They're just stiff now, but I'm going to fumble on my chopsticks for the next few days after all that. And I'm too young for such aches."

"I have gotten around far too little since getting stuck here though. Should be using the time better when there's no forge about. How have the Scorpion been faring? I saw little enough of your lands getting here, since we weren't really dallying."

"We are... managing?" Kogi shrugs. "Most of our worries this year and next are about making things better. Those are the good kind to have, aren't they?" Seeing Yua stretch out her hands makes Kogi's own fingers twinge a bit. She picks out a short string of soft notes with her right hand to quiet the itch as she explains, "The River of Gold, for example. My lord's retainers are much occupied with improving the river crossings. Ferries and bridges that we can use all through the rainy season are harder than they look, apparently."

"That sounds very little next to the speeches of Shinsei," she admits. "Oh, well. The Empire needs bridges too."

Yua laughs with precisely the sort of low chuckle you'd expect with that voice. It's short and she seems almost a bit surprised at it. "It certainly does. That's a huge river, if I remember right." Etiquette classes may have been sparse, but she'd picked up some geography of the Empire somewhere along the line. "Would be rough in the spring and having to hike all the way around it because it's running too high for safe boat travel, I imagine?"

"The headwater is in... somewhere deathly up in the mountains, anyway. The mouth is at the eastern sea. By the time you got around by land, you'd have been better off waiting for the change of seasons." Kogi hmphs quietly to herself. "The water runs slow enough for ferryboats year-round in a few places. I took one of them, once... well, twice, because I had to go back." From the way her voice contracts at the end, this may not have been an experience she's eager to repeat.

"It means the west bank still isn't very settled compared to the east. Truthfully, it would be easier to supply the western lands of the Stag with better crossings too."

"Takes time to build them. Though I'm surprised there weren't some down there that the Crab-built already. Seems the kind of thing they'd put some energy toward pretty early on." Of course, they might also have been pissed enough to tear them down on the way out too.

"Not fond of the river crossing? Can't blame you, really. As much as staring into the water can be a bit like dropping into the Void, it's...well it's a bit like that but just different enough to make my head ache."

"Oh, no, it's really all right most of the year. Pretty in the summertime, with a nice breeze. But when the water is high...? Not again, thank you." Kogi shakes her head ruefully. "And that's if you can get across at all. I wasn't raised in the river valley, but even the ones who were say they have to respect it." Her brows draw together a little. "I don't know anything about dropping in the Void, so, um, I can't say whether it's alike."

She leans a forearm on the table beside her now-quiet koto and shifts herself slightly into a more casual seat, with her legs curled to one side instead of squared up with hips over heels.

"The old Seidou didn't build their stone forts and bridges as far north as Gold River, unfortunately for my lord's convenience. It was mostly scattered little villages and small tribes along there until twenty years ago, I suppose."