It took a while to find something in her size, but luckily they managed to find her something before they had to raid Taurus’ closet. She’s pretty sure it’s a blanket of some kind, or maybe just a very sheer rug, but she’s not one for complaining after how long it took to get her clean. It really was more than blood, and frankly, it reminded her of what she’d heard about “impurities”.

Rumor has it they used to be some kind of big deal for cultivators. She remembers some references to them being pretty prevalent in some of the much older texts she’d seen Li Shu try and copy, but the details were scarce, like it was common sense what they were. Most cultivators she knows of haven’t even heard of the stuff, and she doesn’t know any that have had experiences with pills or tribulations that push out “thick black ooze, foul smelling and monstrous”.

The experience isn’t quite the same, either; her ooze, if it did indeed come out of her and wasn’t simply leftovers in the cocoon, is a dark red, and it smells more like… hmm. Sugar and meat? Candied bacon? With undertones of a bit of rot, but nothing like the horrors those mild glimpses to old texts indicated. Still, it’s enough that she wonders if she hasn’t somehow wandered into some much older, less useful technique and somehow recreated it by instinct and energy rather than intent. And she used a lot of energy; it took an hour and a half of hard scrubbing in a bath for her to refocus, get cleaned, and take stock of just how low her reserves are.

She can still feel her Qi. That part’s important, and she checked for it as soon as she realized it wasn’t in its usual places. But rather than feeling like that constant harsh, violent hurricane of razors and ruin that she could generate and has gotten used to, it’s more of a buzzing sensation, like when her skin allowed her to properly trap and feel it for the first time. It would seem, at minimum, that her resistance to the damage it causes has gone up, even as she spent most of it inside that cocoon. It bodes well for the new heights of forcefully altered storm-like version of “ambient Qi” she’ll be able to store in the future, though.

She really needs to figure out a better name for it than “ambient Qi”, though. If the way those spirit beasts were coming after her, it’s pretty clear that she’s storing and/or generating something a bit more dangerous. And likely a lot more desirable. The fact that neither Yun Ka nor Taurus have ever told her anything about her internally stored energy, even if she hasn’t asked much, is not a point in their favor.

She hasn’t interacted with the others much yet. Only a few hours since she woke up, and she feels she needs something, but… she just can’t bring herself to move. It’s the whole reason she has the time to let her mind wander as it is, and she is so fucking tired.

Nevermind the lack of Qi ripping her apart and keeping her upright, nevermind the fact that she spent an unknown period of time in a flesh-cocoon, the last memories she has are a blurry recollection of a week-long hellscape without sleep and then a dream where she got hit with a fucking mountain trying to wipe her away like a stain. She doesn’t know how long she was in that cocoon for, but it didn’t feel like sleep in there, just… disconnect and rest.

She’s so gods damned tired.

But even if she felt the urge to sleep, her body is twitchy with energy and new sensations. Even the air on her skin has nuances it didn’t have, little bits of dust visible and tactile to her now, and if it didn’t, she’d still have the scents and sounds to contend with. She can smell the last four people who’ve been in this room, the leftover trails of everyone who’s walked past the window to outside, and a dozen more things. She can smell the scent of the roots from the trees that the wood is cut from, and the grain of the wood itself. If she tries hard enough she might even be able to smell where they grew, or at least what they grew in.

And then there’s the sound of movement. Always, always movement. Bodies and footsteps and vibrations through everything. She can see with her eyes closed, now.

She can see Kaena and Maen speaking. She can see Kaena making their way over to the room she’s in.

She opens her eyes right before they knock.

“Raika?” She hears them ask, voice quiet. “You still alive in there? It would be a terrible grief to have witnessed such a… shall we say “beautiful” birth, only for more tragedy.”

Raika flexes the muscles in her throat, letting her voice come back. It takes her a moment, a few little vocal grunts and hiccups, before she is sure that it is as it used to be, rather than the dramatic thing it is now. She likes it, sure, but the exercise of controlling it has been a good distraction, and she’d rather not terrify the entire village next time she opens her mouth.

“Come in,” she says, new voice temporarily just like the old.

Kaena opens the door, stepping inside calmly. The room is small, made of stone entirely, keeping out the summer heat. The entire building they’ve been using as a sort of headquarters seems to be made of stone, probably brought about by someone’s Qi techniques, and the only amenities it possesses are simple beds, occasional rugs on the colder parts of the flooring, and a small dresser. She assumes the format is mirrored in whatever other rooms have been made. Kaena walks over to her, peach and gold vitiligo shining even in the dark, barefoot and whisper-quiet against the ground and still just so… so audible.

And yet, again, there is that sneaking suspicion about what prompted the choice to be barefoot. It’s very Kaena; exactly as accommodating and perfect as you need them to be.

The smell of them washes over her. Peaches and cream, heavy and sweet yet just light enough not to be overwhelming or tiring. But the thing beneath it, the quicksilver mercury of artificial venom.

And it roils.

It’s an interesting change. It feels, in this moment, a hundred times worse than before, so concentrated and horrifying and blisteringly venomous, but… it’s so much quieter in the balance of the other smells. As much as it almost smells like it’s moving, its scent wavering between the other flavors, it is lesser than before, reduced somehow even as the scent of cream is softer, lighter and gentler, juxtaposed with the flesh of the fruit.

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It’s overwhelming, almost. Raika has to stop, close her eyes again. She takes a deep, deep breath. Lets it out. Another, and another, until the smell begins to fade to the background, until her senses adjust.

Kaena, seeming to know exactly what to do, the exact kindness and space to give, stands still there for a long while. Eventually, Raika opens her eyes again, and they smile softly.

“It happens, sometimes,” they whisper. Not a stage whisper, instead free of the sibilant, painful hiss that she can sometimes hear around her as some of the others try to be quiet. “Not always after a tribulation, but sometimes. Happens when someone jumps up a realm most often. The first few days are overwhelming.”

Raika scoffs lightly, feeling how the vibration of the air ever so slightly shifts every interconnected part of her. “It has been so far,” she whispers back. “The whole 'secluded cultivation' makes more sense now. 'Consolidating one’s growth' or whatever. Back when I cultivated I always thought it was a power thing, making sure your Qi was steady or learning how to control it. It’s what I did, when I hit Core Formation.”

Kaena shrugs, the sound of silk shifting on skin as loud as another voice in the room. “It’s probably both,” they whisper. “But body focused transformations tend to be more intense for a number of reasons. Most people aren’t really designed to get so much information all at once.” They stop, and smile at her. “You’re doing better than most I’ve seen, at least.”

Raika raises one eyebrow. “And you’ve seen many?” she asks.

“A couple,” Kaena admits with a nod. “Three, not counting you. Bodily transformations are a bit more common in the first and second ring, closer to the Throne, and most of those fresh from cultivation hope for a bit of… assisted decompression from the stresses of it all.”

“Hmm,” Raika hums, that strange vibration in her voice peeking through for a moment. “And you volunteered?”

The scent of quicksilver and poison grows just a bit brighter for a moment.

“Usually, yes,” Kaena replies, not missing a beat. By their face and voice, you’d never know a thing. “Though my tastes tend to be more… eclectic nowadays.” They let their eyes drift a bit, over to Raika’s shoulder where the blanket / robe has fallen away a bit.

Raika huffs out a breath. Too tired to use the mental energy it would take to snort, to feel all that comes with it and shifts. Then… she breathes in, slow. Breathes out, slow. Let’s Kaena wait for a bit, centering herself against a sea of sensation and unpleasant physicality she has yet to adjust to.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers to Kaena.

“Oh?” they ask. They don’t elaborate. Don’t agree or disagree.

The silence sits between them for a while, the room, Raika realizes belatedly, pitch dark except for the light of gray dusk coming in through the window, and even that is occluded with heavy curtains and wooden boards. She can see in the dark, she realizes. No need to burn Qi, no need to force an alteration. She just… doesn’t seem to mind the dark.

“I can tell,” she whispers. “It’s not exactly a comfortable thing for you, is it? Being here?”

Kaena says nothing. Raika makes sure not to look at them, to let them have the illusion of the dark.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers.

Kaena comes a bit closer. Raika says nothing. They get closer again, and sit on the edge of the bed.

“What makes you think you can tell how I feel?” they ask.

Raika… shrugs. “Maybe I can’t,” she admits. “Maybe it’s just a bad guess. But it doesn’t make it any less true. You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to do anything. If you can’t leave, then… you can take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

Another guess.

Kaena huffs behind her, the scent of peach a bit stronger now, with hints of green on the vine. It’s… confusing. Still peach, but different context? So many signals, so many interpretations.

“Maen asked me to check in on you,” they admit. “See if you’re alright. I told her she’d be better for this, but she insisted that I have more experience with dealing with cultivators, which I can’t deny. Is there nothing I can do for you, fair beast? Nothing at all you wish to ask of me?”

Silence in the room. Raika doesn’t know what to say.

“You’ve deduced quite a lot from so very few interactions,” Kaena whispers. “You’ve barely even asked me anything, really. And yet, here you are. So very certain about so very much”

Raika huffs again. “I’m not certain about almost anything,” she whispers. “I think I used to be more so. Or maybe I just… never thought it through. Not in the last few years, and not before. The only thing I can say I’ve been truly certain of is who I am and what I won’t allow, and neither of those facts has brought me much more than pain and tribulation. So if I’m wrong, then tell me. Please.”

Kaena says nothing.

“You do look like you could use some de-stressing, though,” they eventually say, a soft smile in their voice.

Raika laughs a bit. “Gods, yes. By all the hells, I could use some help with rest. But you don’t have to, and if you don’t want to, then I’d much prefer you not do it at all.”

Kaena hums softly at that, a lyrical note that Raika can’t help but hear every part of and somehow still enjoy rather than be overwhelmed. “I can think of a way around that,” they whisper.

“I’m afraid it may be a bit… awkward, and if you’re not comfortable with the idea that’s fine. But whatever reservations we may have, you could do with some help figuring out your changes, and you’ll break if you keep letting yourself be worn down. Hard for you to stop, isn’t it? So if someone were… willing. Would you be?”

Raika keeps herself quiet. She lets the silence take its time filling the space. She lets herself think.

She is here. She is safe. She is deeply uncomfortable in strange skin. She is tired.

She…

She could use some help.

She nods.

Kaena humms. The scent of their Qi reaches out, soft and subtle but expanding, leaving the room, guided by will.

And, after a few moments, she smells yuzu and small, sharp edges, and hears the sound of footsteps again.

Maen opens the door slowly, ever so slowly. There’s hesitation there, and Raika winces at the sound of the hinge, but then it is closing behind her, and the sound is gone, and the flutter of Maen’s heart takes its place of prominence in the room.

She is in a simple shift, less like robes and more like nightwear, making it just past her thighs. She stands there, so much shorter now than Raika, even moreso than before, black hair and flickering cat ears above hazel and dark green eyes. Her skin seems like it’s glowing in the little moonlight that has begun to leak into the room.

She gives a soft, shy bow.

“Greetings, honored Raika,” she whispers, voice somehow even quieter than Kaena’s. “I am hopeful that I may assist in any way required by my honored seniors.”

Raika and Kaena both huff and give a little laugh at that. “Yeah, yeah,” Kaena says. “You’re not in a sect, kitty, and neither are we. Raika. Do you accept?”

Raika hesitates. She deliberates for a long, long while, long enough that Maen shuffles awkwardly, but in truth, she’s already made her choice.

She clawed her soul back from gods, clawed her body back from death and monsters, clawed her life back and tore it up in the process. She…

It’s not about pain. She needs rest, or she’ll stop, and she can’t let herself stop. So… a moment. Just one night. Just a little bit of help. She can let the pain back in later. She promises.

She does not hear or smell or see anything, but she can sense them, outside the room. Masks and scarves and peasant’s clothes, and one with the scent of tangerines and spring and growing roots, whose sandal is under her bed.

She promises. She’ll hurt later.

But everyone has to rest sometimes.

Burning with shame and want and hurt and fear and bone-deep, ruinous exhaustion, she nods.