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Mahendru Divya	In the midst of a decidedly morbid scene, Divya notices the undead crew relaxing a little and takes a step closer to the Envoy, even as Inauspicious Icons continues to scent around for clues. Newly met strangers often feel a bit of tension, but an hour of time passing makes even the wary guard drop a little. Enough for a little conversation at least. "Our Exigent colleague is here because a town commissioned them, if I heard earlier correctly. And you're here because...of ghosts?" Within easy conversational distance, a cunning and discerning eye that has met a flower merchant and a disheveled heir can use this third face to begin triangulating upon the woman herself. None of her guises have changed hair color or worn wigs or adopted artificial noses or any actual artifice of disguise. But the flower merchant was joyful and innocent, the heir spoiled and hedonistic...and this woman's all business and professionalism with a thin wrapping of friendly wrapped around it. The merchant moved thoughtlessly, the heir sullenly, this investigator had a formal rigid posture by contrast. And the makeup varied dramatically. If there was any constant at all, it was her green unchanging eyes.
The Mournful Chorus	While the Lion-Dog works tirelessly to uncover the truth, and indeed seems to have significantly more success then the non-investigators on this site of gruesome slaughter, the Envoy - or the Hallowed Voice, as the dead sailor-bodyguards reverently call her - has passed the time in turn watching Inauspicious Icon work, soothing the monkeys terror by cuddling it and speaking to it in a sweet voice, and directing her undead companions to aid the spirit as much as they possibly can. A few of them, of course, never stray far from her side. When Divya chooses to approach the Envoy, their shift their stances, make a show of their knives, and cast piercing glares towards the stranger. While the promise of violence is there, they let her pass unmolested at a simple gesture of the cloaked woman, directed at Divya: 'Come closer', the motion says. The Envoy has found a resonably clean table to sit. Somehow, she makes it look like this flimsy piece of wood, still stained with grease and juice, still surrounded by bodies grinning merrily even in death, is some sort of morbid stage. One leg, covered by loose-fitting dark purple linen, dangles over the edge. The other, she has pulled towards her at a steep angle, providing the monkey with a convenient knee to perch on. Divya's words are met with an amiable smile - one she has seen in several variations now, every one of them tied to a different persona. This time, it looks mildly disquieting. Here is one who moves among the dead as if she belongs there, and yet lives. Her eyes twinkle in the shadow of the hood for a moment as she regards Divya. "That's perhaps oversimplifying matters. Broadly speaking, yes. How long have you been listening?" Despite her conversational tone, the four dead standing guard over her now narrow their eyes at Divya. They seem extremely interested in the answer to that question as well.
Mahendru Divya	"Oh, about the time our Exigent friend turned up in the first place. There's something odd about him, I can't quite mark what..." Then Divya shrugs and spreads her hands in a 'who knows' gesture, once more calling those bodyguards' attention to the fact that she's clearly unarmored and seemingly unarmed as well. Although anyone can change shape is presumably not without certain powers to potentially protect themselves. "I'd ask you your business, dear, but something tells me your answer won't reveal much more than my answer would when you invariably ask me the same question in return." She put her hands on her hips, rolled her neck back and stretched for a moment. "So I won't pry now, except to invite you to offer any information that you see reason to share with a stranger called Divya who keeps company with a Lion-Dog." She flashes a smile now, despite the grim setting and the Envoy's unsettling look of belonging to it all. "After all, we're all on the same side right now, aren't we."
The Mournful Chorus	The guards only relax a little bit, but the Envoy's smile widens. She chuckles softly, then turns toward the tall one who seems to be the closest thing this group has to a military commander. "Leave us." Dead eyes blink at the Abyssal in surprise. He opens his mouth to protest, only to be shut down before he can get even a single word out. "I know", the Envoy assures him, "and I appreciate your dedication, Shredded Promises. But right now, I don't fucking care. Stay nearby, if it eases your conscience. But not too close." The pair of dark, cunning eyes shifts back to Divya. "This is a private conversation." Grumbling, the four obey, soon finding a spot where they can observe said conversation without actually overhearing. The roaring wind in the trees and the calls of nightly scavengers all around them help a bit with that, too. Only when they're gone does the Envoy answer Divya's implied question. "Maybe. I don't see a reason why we should be enemies, for now", she says quite cheerfully. "And you know what? I'm in such a great mood right now, I might even tell you what I know... about this shit, at least." She gestures at the human party leftovers. Over the stench of dead bodies in early stages of decay - both those on the ground and others still moving and talking - Divya can sense a whiff of a rich perfume, funeral incense and flowers. After an affectionate pat on the monkey's head, the Envoy continues: "But before I do, I've got a question for you in return." She reaches up and slowly, deliberately, pulls down her hood. The youthful brown face and her short haircut are familiar to Divya. Instead of carefully applied make-up, her features now display literal paint: An elaborate death mask of intertwined flowers, leaves, and thorns, applied in stark white and bright green, with a bit of red thrown in for accents. It covers her cheeks, nose and forehead, leaving only the area around her eye sockets and her chin bare. The vertical white line across the middle of her lips is just a continuation of that greater painting. Her earrings are serrated shark teeth, capped with golden rings at the roots, dangling heavily from her lobes and framing her face. "So, here we are. I bet you've recognized me by now. Now tell me: Why are you following me?"
Mahendru Divya	Divya admires the woman's easy handling of her henchmen, as well as her sense of discretion. Once the four stop moving, Divya gauges their distance and approaches a little more closely, hands still visibly displayed (seemingly with the intent of continuing to show she's not here for trouble). When the Envoy makes her initial offer, Divya faces her fully and smiles along, mirroring the other woman's body language and expression with the practiced air of someone who is very used to putting people at ease. Some of that ease fades when she gets a full look at the Envoy's face, however. The paint is striking and not particularly friendly. Then the accompanying words sink in and Divya frowns, looking closer, more intently now.
The Mournful Chorus	Divya's confusion is obvious enough for Chorus to notice, and she cocks her head in response. Even the monkey gives Divya a quizzical look as she stares at its mistress with such sudden intensity. The creature briefly flashes its fangs at the Sidereal in annoyance. A soft, low whistle escapes from the Enovy's lips, and a delighted, mischieveous grin illuminates her entire face. She throws her head back and laughs, rauciously like she did when she was Ravi Voice-of-Longing, the legendary singer. "Oh no. No, you really haven't. This is delicious."
Mahendru Divya	The monkey. Always the monkey in common. And that cloak. Divya leans back and groans slightly, shaking her head. "You're asking -me- why I'm following -you-?" Divya frowns fully now and there's a subtle shift in her expression and posture once more. Giving the impression that this investigator was just another role as well and now the actor's not bothering to stay in character to the same degree. "Why are -you- following -me-? At that village on the Dreaming Sea. In a salon in Madara. I've even spotted you in Great Forks. Always, you coming to me. I was there -first-." That frown turns thoughtful. "Not this time, though. You were already here. Why?"
The Mournful Chorus	Whatever Divya was trying to read in the Envoy's body language, it's like opening a book all writen in cypher. All she can tell for certain is the other woman's reaction to being accused of following Divya around in return - she blinks at her accuser in surprise, then shifts abruptly into a cross-legged position (the monkey huffs in protest and clambers up to perch on her shoulder instead). Without breaking eye contact, and still grinning from ear to ear, she leans further towards the Sidereal and wags a finger in her general direction. "You've got it all backwards. Listen, gorgeous... if all of this is an elaborate plan to get into my pants - again... you could've just asked, you know? Like... I would've been down." The persistent grin transforms into a similarly wide, mischievous smile. There's more than a hint of lewdness in it, too. "Or..." Stroking her chin contemplatively, the Envoy touches a canine with her tongue and dials the smile back a bit. This is business, after all. "Maybe not. Hmmm. Maybe this is a strange series of coincidences, after all? I assure you, I'm far too busy to stalk you across an entire direction. Although ~now~ you've got my attention, that much is certain... Divya." She softly whispers the name two more times, as if tasting it on her tongue. "So what's all this business with the Lion-Dog and the people who are not supposed to be dead, hm?"
Mahendru Divya	The movement of the monkey is enough of a distraction for Divya to lose focus for a second. By the time she's fixed on the other woman's face once more, there's no way to read it. Despite decades of spending time around people and learning how common a few motives were, this woman had no useful tells to pick up. An accomplished actor? Or just bad timing with the monkey? Coincidence. Just as the Envoy said. It was even less satisfying an answer, though, than the Abyssal found it. "In my experience, coincidence is a tool of creating outcomes. The question is who's wielding the tool...and what's the outcome they're trying to get. Maybe you're the one wielding it." Again, she watched the Envoy's painted face for a reaction, though it was unlikely that poker face would reveal much. "Or maybe you're a piece on the board. Maybe I am too." That was a disquieting thought and one Divya plainly didn't experience much of. "The Lion-Dog is my friend, as I said. Nothing I've said has been a lie...Ravi." Divya again watched that face for a reaction. "Or whatever you'd like me to call you, if you've a different one picked out for today's occasion. And of the two of us, surely -you- would know more about this business of unnatural death, no? Speaker for the dead. Have these dead spoken to you then?" She frowned in sudden thought. "Or perhaps their relatives? How -did- you know to come here?"
The Mournful Chorus	The name "Ravi" doesn't hit a soft spot, it seems - that death-painted poker face betrays no particular reaction to it, not even a raised eyebrow. No other name is offered in return. Instead, the Envoy's fingers begin drumming on her boots, soft skin hitting even softer leather. If Divya listens closely, she can pick out the rhythm of the song the two of them played together. "Oh, I know you were telling the truth this time." The woman with so many names and yet none to claim her own purses her lips, finally dropping that smile, and seems to think for a bit. After a quick exchange of glances between her and the four watchful protectors - to whom she offers a thumbs-up - she focuses on the Sidereal again and sighs in exasperation. "And yet... You still leave me picking at scraps. So secretive! We've got that much in common, haven't we? Anyway, if you haven't heard it all when you were still a crow, here's the short version:" Before she continues, she reaches up to scratch behind the monkey's ears. It responds with small, delighted growls. "A bunch of ghostly personages - ancestors to some of the deceased you might find here, or their families, although I wouldn't be able tell you which ones exactly - got wind of this clusterfuck pretty quickly. Their remaining descendants spilled the beans, begged them for aid... and they went right to me, because that shit scares them. The dead can be surprisingly skittish." She points at one of the horribly happy faces. "What really got to them was the lack of newcomers. Because with so many dead, at least a handful of ghosts should have risen and joined them in their afterlife, or so they say." A nonchalant shrug. "Had I known how fucking popular this place was, I would have dressed for the occasion." The Envoy finishes her tale and flashes Divya a playful grin.
Mahendru Divya	"You seem dressed up plenty," Divya says back, smirking a little at the painted face and dramatic outfit. "And you're very right. We do have secrecy in common. Those we keep. Those we are. No doubt that's why little mysteries like this are uniquely compelling for us. We like being the ones with the answers, not the questions." She turns away then, glancing over the gruesome tableau and Inauspicious Icons sniffing up around the north side of the disaster. He seems to notice her scrutiny and lifts his head to look in her direction. She makes a shooing motion at him to get back to it. "Why are you waving at me like that?" he asked, in his low, rumbly, growly voice. "Because you're looking at me! Don't lose the scent!" "But you were looking at me," comes the confused reply. "I didn't mean for you to -stop-, dear." "Did you need something?" Divya huffs out a sigh, puts on a false smile and says "Any progress to report?" The Lion-Dog looks displeased. "I'm still collecting the facts, Divya. Don't interrupt me while I'm collecting the facts." "But I didn't interrupt you!" "Then why did you wave at me?" Divya promptly turns her back to the Lion-Dog, giving the Abyssal a clear view of her concealing her silent laughter. Nonplussed, Inauspicious Icons returns to his snuffling. Finally regaining her composure, the Sidereal wipes a tear from her eye and says "Like I said, we like having the answers, don't we." Shaking her head, still with a merry tone, those green eyes grow a little serious once more as she finishes with "Maybe solving someone else's mystery gives us a break from trying to solve our own." She shrugs slightly and watches Chrous for her reaction.
The Mournful Chorus	Chorus observes the exchange, keen-eyed and sharp-eared as she always does when social interaction happens. In this particular environment, she is the bloodhound. The practiced bickering routine between the spirit and the woman tells her much more than the spoken words alone. It's pretty obvious, after all. So she falls silent for a bit, allows the words to wash over her, along with the sounds of the night. When Divya turns back, she finds the Envoy has shifted into a different position again, now with both legs dangling lazily over the table's edge. She's also watching the Sidereal with keen interest. "What are you, then? Not a poet, not an investigator... but a bit of both. One who has been doing this for a long while now", she muses, slowly tilting her head to the side and then turning it upright again. "Is that what I am, then? A mystery to solve? What makes you think I ~want~ to be solved?" The night has already been long, but the Envoy doesn't look sleepy at all. Then again, maybe she's used to being awake when others sleep.
Mahendru Divya	Divya's smile grows even as the humor leaves her eyes entirely. "Oh Ravi." She shakes her head several times. "I've been a poet. An investigator. A dozen other things. A hundred other things. We, all of us, are many people over the course of our lives. Even now, without the artifice and skill and pretension you put on, you're many things to many people. You're the daughter your parents remember and, as much as you might pretend they don't see who you've become, a part of you on the outside changes to talk the way you always did with them, wearing the role of 'daughter' even as they see that role and react because of the memories it stirs up. "Same with your crew. To some, you're a performer and a leader and their inspiration. To others...a Captain to be obeyed. To others still, the Envoy who is their bridge between the living and the dead. And you speak to them differently, don't you. What you say and how you say it as a singer, a captain, an envoy. Think of an old friend you haven't seen in years. When you meet them again, they wake a part of you that you might not even remember anymore if it weren't bone-deep, and you become in small or great part the friend they remember no matter how -you- have changed." Divya sighs at the Envoy's dangling legs and relaxed posture. "That's what I am. The multitude found in all people of all ages. A multitude who solves mysteries because it's who I am and what I am. Whether you want me to solve you or not." Another smile, not friendly but perhaps wishing to be. "Maybe that's what you are too. Maybe I should make my peace with the questions you've asked and will continue to ask, knowing you can't help but ask them." There's a strange expression on her face. Wistful. Nostalgic. Mourning something.
The Mournful Chorus	Despite her apparent relaxation, the Envoy's lazily dangling legs freeze for just a moment when Divya's passionate, lengthy reply washes over her. It happens somewhere between the words "daughter" and "parents". Quickly, she catches hold of herself, and the slow movement continues uninterrupted from there on. It's easier to see the shift in her face, because faces tend to betray their owners. The Envoy, knowing this, takes preemitive measures against it: Her features grow still and utterly blank, a deep dark void with no discernible meaning - a protective mask, a shield, an empty wall. Onto this wall, she paints a convincing expression of thoughtfulness, which remains in place while the Sidereal continues to talk, and the Moonshadow's ever-watchful eyes follow Divya's every mmovement. At the sight of that mournful expression, the Envoy's smile returns, soft and strangely tender, at odds with the merciless curiosity in her eyes. She hops from the table, landing only a couple of steps away from Divya on the soft soil (the monkey chitters in startled protest and flees from her shoulder, back where she was sitting just a moment ago). With small, playful steps, the Envoy slowly begins walking in a circle around Divya, hands clasped behind her back and eyeing the other woman with great interest. "You know, you might be right... or maybe you don't know me at all, and all of your assumptions are wrong. But you know ~yourself~. Yes... I can see that." She pauses briefly, gaze drifting away to the night sky and the bright moon above, considering, them resumes her circling. "Of course I can't help asking questions. Here's another one: Why Ravi?" Here, her smile begins to fade, only slowly. "Her's is just another name that I won't claim. And yet... you chose that one to call me by, twice now. Why?" As she likes to do, she tilts her head to the side and slightly up with her eyes fixed on Divya, letting the longer black strands on top of her head fall over one side of her forehead.
Mahendru Divya	Divya's introverted mood puts up with the circling. Otherwise, she might well feel herself being stalked. And maybe she is. But drawing deep on her memories, facing her own feelings as she tries to emphasize with this woman, has left the Sidereal seemingly tired and slow to leave those memories behind, now that they've been stirred up. The Abyssal's opening words wash over her but Divya finally manages to pull herself free of her morose mood at the question. She blinks at being asked, and tries to search back for the reason why. "Why Ravi? Why -not- Ravi? I don't imagine its your real name anymore than the others I've heard you called by." Her smile is a swiftly fierce look. "No more than any of the names you might have heard me go by, I suppose."
The Mournful Chorus	That last smile does it: The Envoy stops dead in her tracks, finally ceasing her circling and turning to fully face Divya. Her hands return into view. One of them reaches up to her chin to scratch an itch that seems to have manifested out of nowhere, as itches usually do. The other hangs at her side, relaxed, intending no harm - just like the stance she now assumes. Clearly an effort to set the other woman at ease after that unnerving circling. Eventually, she responds, mirroring her smile: "But you ~do~ have a favored name, don't you? The spirit calls you Divya, so that's what I'm going with... unless you have objections. I'm not going to ask if that is your real name, if there even is such a thing." She winks at her, and her own smile blooms into cheerful radiance for a few moments. At the same time, she spreads her arms into a half shrug. Then the smile wilts away, replaced by an entirely different expression: Empathy, understanding. "Wearing all of these masks and faces and customes and names is exhausting sometimes, isn't it?", she asks quietly, almost in a whisper.
Mahendru Divya	Divya's smile grows less fierce, more amused. "I've no objections to you calling me Divya, no. By all means." There's an undercurrent there, a bit of pleasure and a bit more of despair. Missing context. Which of course is that this Sidereal thinks this conversation's futile because the Envoy's going to forget her name soon anyway, like almost everyone does, so it -doesn't matter- which gets used even if it's her real name. That final question erases the smile, though. Divya thinks about it for a long moment, then shrugs once. "What's the alternative?" Because she has no alternative. The only identity she's allowed in Creation is the one she makes up. Even most of Yu-Shan won't remember her specifically. Only in the Bureau of Destiny can she have a real conversation as a real person. She thinks of the cleaning spirit who discovered how much Divya disliked having her scroll trays moved for dusting and has ever since made an effort to always put them back exactly as they were. Someone remembering something so basic as a preference. The smallest detail about her personally... Divya just sighed and crossed her arms and repeated, more softly, "What's the alternative?"
The Mournful Chorus	Rolling her eyes up skywards in pondering silence, the Envoy strolls over to the very same grubby table she only recently deserted, and leans against it with one arm bracing at the edge, the other hand against her hip, loosely crossing her legs. It's a delicate balance, prone to tilting in one direction or the other at no more than a gentle puhs or shove... not unlike this entire conversation. "What's the alternative...", the totally-not-deathknight echoes, chewing on her lower lip. "How would ~I~ know? I've got no idea why ~you're~ putting up with it." She blinks lazily at Divya, only to fully open her eyes for a slightly suspicious stare the very next moment. "But I ~do~ know what happened to Captain Bakunawa, not long after you left. It was the strangest thing... all the time when you were walking with us, he was giving you a lot of attention, even asked you about those flowers you were selling - or pretending to sell, whatever." The Envoy's unoccupied hand gestures in exasperation. Then, her expression relaxes again, and she chuckles softly. "But after you were gone, he suddenly was all like..." After that brief pause, she speaks with a significantly deeper voice, mimicking Bakunawa's tone, along with his speech patterns. The nature of her body still prevents her from dipping quite as low as to reach the Captain's bass, but she's giving a recognizable impression nonetheless. "...the woman selling gold flowers? Someone gave those kids flowers... but I forgot who. Anyway..." After that, she falls silent for another brief pause before asking in her usual speaking voice: "Did you do that to him? And if so, why? Because it doesn't make any fucking sense. To me, at least."
Mahendru Divya	Divya chuckles when 'Ravi' seems to dismiss the question on alternatives, as if it were personally unanswerable. Maybe it is. Or at least, this Envoy seems to have no answer for her personal situation that she's willing to offer, at least. But the implication is that Chrous thinks it's within Divya's power to change the status quo. When of course it isn't. Her switching the conversation to Arcane Fate, while normally an unwelcome conversation, at least makes for a break from thinking about the fruitless striving against what must be. Arcane Fate is inevitable, of course. But at least the topic, in and of itself, is less personal. So Divya relaxes a little, brushes from her eyes a few stray hairs that escaped her tight long braid down her back, and then folders her hands together as she considers the woman leaning against that table. "Is it so impossible to think that I'm just not...memorable?" She adopts a smirk, not a mocking of Chorus but perhaps mocking herself. "I've seen you in several guises, Ravi, and you've been remarkable in all of them. I'm...not." She unfolded her hands so that one could gesture at the shoulder of her traveling robes on down to the knee. "It's refreshing, that you think some flowers offered to a Captain are so noteworthy an event for that man so as to leave an impression on him. The truth is, most of the people we meet don't make much of an impression at all." That smirk turned sharper, becoming a little more personal. "I mean, you've been striking every time I've met you and -I- didn't think to remember those beautiful women much less realize they were all the -same- woman until this very conversation." Yep, definitely some self-mockery there.
The Mournful Chorus	After a long glance at Divya, the Envoy nods a few times in an almost rhytmical fashion, eyes fixed on the monkey, who is now brushing up against her side, trying and succeeding in getting her attention - well, at least a tiny part of it. "Not memorable my ass", she snorts. "Memorable enough... for me." When the Envoy's eyes return to Divya, they try to find hers, and she offers a pensive smile. Meanwhile, she blindly reaches for her pet's silvery fur to stroke it, which seems to placate the creature well enough. "I don't remember every single detail about what you were wearing that day, or how you were made up to look, or the exact words you used. But I didn't forget your fucking ~existence~. Bakunawa seemingly did." She sharply snaps her fingers. "Even when I described you to him, he pretended to never have seen you... and yet he seems to know and remember everyone who sets foot onto that little island of his." Yet as she says this, she sounds slightly less certain. A frown momentarily creases her brow, until she dismisses at with a quick shake of the head. "Who were you in Great Forks, hm? You mentioned seeing me there. Just a face in the crowd, then, or a raven once more?"
Mahendru Divya	Divya chuckles a bit sadly and shrugs. "You're too kind," she remarks at the memorable remark, seemingly touched. Like the compliment actually meant something. But as Chorus continues talking about Bakunawa, she seems both unsurprised and maybe a bit sadder. "There really is a simpler explanation, you know," she says at last. "Take a mirror, put your face before it, put my face before it. See which -anyone- might remember. Oh, I'm nice enough to look at but I only turn the heads of those whose head would be turned by -anyone-. I suppose something else could be happening. Some...what, magic? Some supernatural power, some curse, some great working of a distant, forgotten age? Some spirit or force that steals away the memory of Flower Merchants from Sea Captains?" Divya laughs bitterly and says "If there is such magic, it's no magic of mine." At the mention of Great Forks, she just sighs and looks a little happier once more. "You wondered why I call you Ravi earlier." Divya's smile returns. "I'm just one of the people who heard you sing. You have a beautiful voice to match a beautiful face but that's more or less true of any guise I've seen you in. What you sang there, from the heart.." Her smile brightens. "It touched me. I don't know if I'll ever know a version of you that's actually -you-. So the version I choose is a woman who understands love and how worthy it is, even when it's doomed to tragedy. -Especially- when. Because all love is, isn't it." Divya's smile fractures slightly as she says "There's always an Ending."
The Mournful Chorus	Of course, Chorus knows when she's being manipulated. Showering someone in compliments - even if they're simply factual statements - and quickly changing the topic to anyone else, away from her... all of these tactics are familiar to her. But knowledge alone doesn't render her immune. And so, instead of pressing the matter further, she relents. A shadow of doubt flickers across her face. She shrugs it off and becomes the Envoy once more, calm, mysterious and slightly unsettling, at least to the living. But at the same time, she can't help but put on a delighted smile, which clashes with that hallowed persona. This is Ravi the singer's infectuous smile, reserved for those breathless moments on stage after the last note has left her lips, just before the audience erupts into thundering applause. "I totally understand what that means." A lie, made obvious on purpose to turn it into a joke at her own expense. With a soft sigh, she pushes off the table and tiptoes into Divya's direction. On her way, she nods at the Sidereal. "I thought it might have been the show. If you thought that improptu performance was good, you should see me on a ~proper~ stage." She reaches Divya in time with a soft laugh drifting from her lips, then cocks her head to smile at the other woman. Despite that mirthful expression, her next words don't sound like it. "You said that every version of us is us, just different", she whispers, dark eyes glinting with steel. "How could you even tell? If I told you a perfect lie, how would you even know to question it?"
Mahendru Divya	Divya ducks her head slightly, breaking eye contact, as Chorus draws near and mentions the show. "I hope I do," she says softly. "See you on a proper stage sometime. It suits you." But when the other woman's close enough to touch, the Sidereal finally looks up again, looks upon her face and those eyes and that delightful smile so at odds with painted mask she's otherwise made of her face. "Every version of us is us," she repeats quietly. "Great or small the extent, it still expresses something that's us. Which is why lies and truths are just words. It's what people do that defines them. What is it -you- want to do, Ravi? Which woman will you be?" There's a smoldering intensity in what she says, a challenge in her green eyes which, at this range, it might be noticeable have small flecks of white-like stars in them. "You don't need to answer me. In fact, you shouldn't. You just need to decide for yourself which voice you'll listen to. Which command or rule or preference of ours or others will be what you choose to act on." At last, the intensity lets up for a moment and, being as close together as they are, she leans in to kiss the other woman. If Chorus doesn't avoid it, it's gentle and brief. Either way, the Sidereal smiles again, mood shifted back to bittersweet. "Personally, I hope the voice you choose is the one I heard sing through you in Great Forks."
The Mournful Chorus	There's no telling if Chorus, Ravi, or the Envoy intended that kiss to happen and moved in so close for just that purpose. In any case, she welcomes both the touch of Divya's lips and the physical closeness, even if it only lasts for a brief time. This is certainly not the place, nor the setup for anything more prolonged. After their lips have parted, the Abyssal returns Divya's smile, but her's is very much a mixed bag: There's definitely desire in it, even something akin to hunger... but also, regret, and a hint of despair. If she has fabricated her smile to look just like that, she certainly deserves the highest accolades for acting, and more. Either that, or it's entirely genuine. Even if the moment of intimacy has passed, she doesn't break eye contact... yet. Instead, she seems to marvel at something she sees. And then she leans in, just shy of brushing against Divya's face and moving her lips close to the other woman's ear, mirroring what the Sidereal did as Naisha, the disheveled heir, back at the factor's party. "You have the most fascinating eyes", she breathes... and then stands upright, taking a step back, regards Divya with another regretful smile. Now it's the Envoy's turn to look wistful. "So you're advising me to think for myself, huh? To make a decision. To be... or to appear." One corner of her mouth quirks up even further. "That's easy. I'm already the best version of myself." She hesitates for a moment, then draws up her hood again, face extinguished by shadow. A quick glance towards Inconspicious Icons. "Looks like he's almost done, your partner."
Mahendru Divya	Divya watches the face of Chorus intently. Even if people are usually predictable, even if this woman's uniquely good at obfuscating predictions, it's still a lovely face and watching for what the Abyssal chooses to show lets her react in a way that aligns with Divya's values. The comment about her eyes draws a shaky laugh from the Sidereal, touched by the moment of intimacy despite having heard a version of that observation from so many in her past century of living. "Thanks. They're the only thing that makes me feel unique when I look at others." When she sees the Envoy looking wistful, this investigator grows wistful with her, if for her own reasons. The Sidereal chuckles at Chorus' answer and then shakes her head slightly. "Best version of you...for now. Our choices make us better or worse. And sometimes choosing what used to make us better doesn't align with what we've ended up becoming. I hope that you remain..." Divya pauses, thinks about what she wants to say and finally settles on, "Open minded." With the raise of the hood and the reference to her partner, the Sidereal glances across the gory murder scene to find the jade lion already looking at her. Her lips quirk into a smile. "What?" "I didn't say anything," Inauspicious Icons growled. "Then why did you look at me?" she answers back, intentionally mimicking his responses from earlier. "I'm done. I have the trail." Divya looks back now, not only at Chrous but her minions, and to the Exigent who is presumably returning. With a nod towards the Abyssal, Divya turns back to Inauspicious Icons and says "We'll move out as soon as we're all ready."