Well now, this is confusing. [Road to Rathess]

Maybe this wasn't what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't outside the scope of Akara's experience, either. Being made more than Human was a glorious state... And an exceedingly lonely one, as well. All too often, those Solars who were not express and staunch individualists tended to live in a sad, airtight vacuum lacking peers. Not even mates, at times, but simply equals living under the same glorious, brilliant banner. Akara closed his arms around Kirasath with an understanding smile and nodded into her blue hair. No judgement, this place was safe.

"To be fair, I suspect there are more warriors around these days than anything else." Akara remarked softly, hiding Kira's head to his breast. "But... Yes. We are not common, and to be honest, I work with an organization that seeks out newly Exalted Solars and provides a network of support, so I suspect I've met more than you have." He leaned back and tilted his head to one side, brushing his hair back and away from his eyes. "I think this is the first time one has placed herself into MY path, however! Our meeting must be auspicious." Akara laughed. "But most importantly, we are well-met, indeed."

Akara stretched his legs out, getting comfortable, as he suspected Kirasath had no intention of letting go any time soon. And that was fine with him - She was good company. He was doubly careful to not drop any rice in her hair as he surreptitiously snuck a pinch of food over her head. The needs of the body didn't always allow time for the needs of the heart.

"I believe you already have!" Akara laughed cheerfully - it was amazing how much better one felt when his belly was rapidly approaching full. Not that he'd been in at all a dour mood to this point. Resigned, perhaps. Fatigued? Absolutely. Not still basically positive. It just hadn't occurred to him how very hungry and tired he'd been until that catnap and dinner. Akara, after audibly affirming that Kira had, in fact, made at least a friend in the Cult of the Illuminated, knocked back a healthy swig of the wine he'd been poured and sighed in content satisfaction once it'd been washed down.

What more was there to say? "Delicious." The Dereth asserted once more, the word coming out not unlike a relieved sigh of it's own.

Akara brushed his hair back and refilled his wine - as well as Kira's, glancing at the Western woman with a mild smile and raised eyebrows. "I could not agree more. I hope only that we can find a more permanent solution to his situation." He admitted in a more reserved tone. Even the allure of good company and good meals could not dull the drive to see this task through to a beneficial end. "I had thought to, perhaps, take it with me... but I do not know if such a thing is even possible, or that Kwatyl would even begin to allow it." Sitting back, legs folded in a comfortable fashion, Akara folded his arms beneath his breasts and thoughtfully chewed the corner of his lip. "I could no more force the lawful owners of the land to worship him as I could force him from his home, and the woman who hired me was very firm in that she did not have any interest in the former arrangement."

Akara gave Kira another glance while sipping his wine, most of the jovial cheer in his voice replaced by the tone of a professional young person accustomed to matters of law and peace; which was to say that he was speaking aloud just as much as he was to her. "In fact, she was suspiciously insistent that I simply dispose of Kwatyl, if failing to relocate it. If I cannot find a harmony between these two parties, I've little doubt that she will hire someone with less compassion before long."

Akara listened intently to Kira's suggestions, reminding himself that even a layman was capable of great insight if given a chance. And a Solar was one hell of a layman, no matter what the field. When she finished, he pursed his lips, folded his arms, and appeared to give the matter serious thought before speaking. "I'll admit that my demeanour gives the impression of experience I do not possess - the workings of the spirits are a complicated thing that I've only yet begin to understand." Akara admitted quietly. "God big and small, however, are inherently given towards a purpose - the oversight of a specific river, the care of a certain town, and so on. If Kwatyl is purposed with the protection of this land, relocating him would likely be as easy as asking him to set aside his wings."

Akara drew a deep breath to steady his nerves, then offered Kira a weary smile. "My mind is not as clear as it aught be, I'm afraid." He apologized quietly. "As wonderful as your meal was, I'm afraid I find myself ready to find my bed as much as anything." The dereth slowly unfolded his legs and stood up, stretched his thin arms out, then began gathering plates with the smooth grace and speed that seemed to come so naturally to him. "Allow me to assist you in cleaning, my new friend, before I lay my labors beside the pillow - and I would be a poor friend indeed if I did not make it clear that you have as much welcome to stay as I do."

With a warm smile, Akara shot Kira a friendly wink. "And I promise that I say that not WHOLLY with the intention of exacting a breakfast from your talented hands." A quick spin, a little hip bump, a jaunty laugh - a meal had done the martial artist as much spiritual good as leaving his boots at the door, he was nearly dancing. "If you were to join me in discussing the gravity of the situation with my patron in the morning, perhaps the two of us might make an impression her!" Akara mused thoughtfully. "A peaceful compromise might yet be possible..."

---

But a peaceful morning? Not so much so. It seemed the sun was determined to rise a little early, though Akara did not rise with it - he slept like the dead. Even when there came am almost gentle, business-like knock upon the chamber doors, the crisp sound of a professional coming to call. Akara - falling out of his shorts and snoring softly atop a nest of his own hair - would likely never make it in time.

Good thing the mightiest housewife in Creation had heard it.

The scent of southern parfum and cinnamon drifted in the door as soon as it was opened, the features of the woman outside obscured by the light of the morning sun. In the half-heartbeat before Kira realized who she was talking to, she might have noticed that the air was still cool as early ascending earth would expect it to be, and dew glistened visibly on the grass, but a dry heat rolled into the room as tangible as the woman's scent - a small aura of the desert, comforting in its warmth. Deceptively so.

"Why yes, Kirasath. I would adore a cup of tea."

Emerald Glass had a way of filling a room, of taking ownership of it, and this tiny little corner of nowhere was no exception. Her heels clicked softly on the wooden floor as she entered, oppressive as the pounding of nearing thunder. Expressive black eyes played over Kirasath's form in a cursory and almost friendly manner, not unlike the way a butcher would size up a side of beef when deciding where best to make his cut. She was singularly gorgeous in every traditional sense of the word; legs hewn as though by an artisan-gods hands, curves that might have been the inspiration for every other woman's pale imitation, with expressive and defined noblewoman's features that could have inspired even the most mundane souls to reach for a brush in hopes of capturing her visage.

Aside from, of course, the puckered scar stitched closed, forming an almost straight line from ear to ear, right over the bridge of her house. A scar that looked no more healed than when Kira had last seen it, in the sunken temple.

Once she was inside - a pair of steps that seemed to take an eternity - Emerald fixed Kira with an almost maternal smile while the long sable-fur coat on her shoulders brushed quietly about her ankles. "You've been an exceedingly busy young woman, haven't you?" Emerald Glass inquired, her tone only slightly patronizing and entirely rhetorical. "My dear, what brings you into my home - and why did you not inform me of your presence? I might have prepared better accommodations for you than these." Emerald stepped forward again - though only slightly taller than Kirasath, her very presence weighed like bags of sand over one's shoulders, as though the very act of acknowledging Kirasath's existence was grinding the might and maturity from her with the endless erosion of Cecylene's infinite sands.