o2. Contrariwise II

Moogle down is tougher and bristlier than what observers expect, but they're Lani's, now, and she knows the right way to touch them, comb them down. She's since discovered where to tweak their noses so that it doesn't hurt, has found that water should miss the underside of their fleshy wings at all cost.

They huddle to the dark woman, the smaller ones, as she draws up a stool and shushes their curious chatter. All bathed in Madain Sari's serene, undead glow. Eiko closes her eyes to Lani's pots and pans, Lani's kitchen, Lani's stewed oglops, Lani's ragged bookshelves, Lani's…

Calloused, sinewy hands swipe the side of her mouth where the river's left its stains. "It doesn't matter where you come from," Lani says.

Eiko returns the kind smile, but has to look back down into Lani's (no, Eiko's) old, cracked cup when the bitterness stings her eyes.