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willowedThere's a lot in the world that's more difficult than waitressing.
As a high-ranking courtesan in the emperor's harem, Korin needed to manage the politics of her wing, carefully weeding out girls who could serve as confidantes and girls who were conniving and to be held at a distance. She maintained a certain amount of decorum with the members of the court, stuck to a rigorous beauty regimen, kept an ear out for any opportunity to meet the emperor. The slightest amount of disfavor sent one barreling down the list, palace artists taking a few little liberties here and there on one's face cards — and if there was anything that Korin couldn't afford, it was for Emperor Saihitei to believe her homely. (He was a vain thing, after all.)
As a celestial warrior of Suzaku, Nuriko fought against rivals who bore powers practically unthinkable. The ability to summon lightning with a raise of one's hand. The ability to create searching, jarring heat with a bare palm. Teleportation, healing — sometimes, it felt that having superhuman strength was pretty low on the competitive bar.
It probably was, considering how Nuriko died on the job.
Waiting tables at a restaurant carries little to no risk at all compared to what Nuriko's seen before in her life, but still she finds herself thrilled to the tips of her fingers. It's easy to note at a glance that there are people in the establishment who aren't quite human. (Sometimes, she catches the gleam of a yellow eye that chills her to the bone, reminding her of seeping into the mountainous cold, but aside from that, Nuriko's been fine.) And the fact that all of them have a place to peacefully congregate is practically unheard of. Kind of nice.
But what strikes her interest even more than the patronage are the workers who willingly show the backs of their necks to such a crowd.
Her first afternoon's a pretty slow one, most of the customers just there to nurse drinks as the sun sneaks under the horizon. There's this one man that Nuriko's been meaning to speak to again, a man she met on her first day, and when there's a pause in their work, she makes her way over with a crooked grin.
"You know, when I realized that you worked here, I couldn't help but feel lucky," Nuriko chirps, seating herself on an empty stool and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.
As a high-ranking courtesan in the emperor's harem, Korin needed to manage the politics of her wing, carefully weeding out girls who could serve as confidantes and girls who were conniving and to be held at a distance. She maintained a certain amount of decorum with the members of the court, stuck to a rigorous beauty regimen, kept an ear out for any opportunity to meet the emperor. The slightest amount of disfavor sent one barreling down the list, palace artists taking a few little liberties here and there on one's face cards — and if there was anything that Korin couldn't afford, it was for Emperor Saihitei to believe her homely. (He was a vain thing, after all.)
As a celestial warrior of Suzaku, Nuriko fought against rivals who bore powers practically unthinkable. The ability to summon lightning with a raise of one's hand. The ability to create searching, jarring heat with a bare palm. Teleportation, healing — sometimes, it felt that having superhuman strength was pretty low on the competitive bar.
It probably was, considering how Nuriko died on the job.
Waiting tables at a restaurant carries little to no risk at all compared to what Nuriko's seen before in her life, but still she finds herself thrilled to the tips of her fingers. It's easy to note at a glance that there are people in the establishment who aren't quite human. (Sometimes, she catches the gleam of a yellow eye that chills her to the bone, reminding her of seeping into the mountainous cold, but aside from that, Nuriko's been fine.) And the fact that all of them have a place to peacefully congregate is practically unheard of. Kind of nice.
But what strikes her interest even more than the patronage are the workers who willingly show the backs of their necks to such a crowd.
Her first afternoon's a pretty slow one, most of the customers just there to nurse drinks as the sun sneaks under the horizon. There's this one man that Nuriko's been meaning to speak to again, a man she met on her first day, and when there's a pause in their work, she makes her way over with a crooked grin.
"You know, when I realized that you worked here, I couldn't help but feel lucky," Nuriko chirps, seating herself on an empty stool and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.