“So am I a member of your Clan? How does one progress? Where are the farms?” I ask moving to keep an eye on my logs.

They don’t have farms. FACK! They buy their stuff, dried usually, from black market deals. They cost a fortune and the effects of some of the poisons are lessened while others are very dangerous to handle. The fact that they found so many fresh supplies, -- and such variety!, -- was a windfall, and taken as a sign that the clan would enter a new era of prosperity. They’re getting a farm, just a dank well ventilated plot of damp dirt for the mushrooms I thought were potatoes, -- apparently they’re called Death Beans. Yeah, okay... --, and they’re going to be using fertilizers made from dirt, dead plants, and the cultivators who don’t survive Red Silk’s special cultivation methods.

Neat.

Fashion Disaster sends Sis to gather more people to replace those who are now unable to fight due to nerves or because they’d thrown everything they had at me. Absolutely no mention is made of any of the people who died from the poisons mixing or because they’re comrades had shit aim. I didn’t move, so it’s not like anyone else getting hit is my fault. I made no aggressive movements at all, actually. I just showed up and showed my badge.

“Will I get a true symbol that grants me safe passage?” I ask Sis as we shuffle down the hall.

Her fan is tucked into the front of her robe belt and she’s using her handkerchief to wave at people we pass to send them off or send them as replacements. Apparently she thinks they’re heeding her because the Escort’s Allure is working, and they just think she smells like stanky lady bits. Well, the logs say they said “fermented fish” and a “rotten snatch”, and apparently her poor skill with mixing poisons and using techniques is well known, but so is her resistance. So she’s good to know, not so much to have around. I’ve had coworkers like that.

We veer off away from the path she originally took me and I remember to warn her about essence contamination from my scales. She gasps, patting at her own face before beaming at me. She’s had an epiphany. I forgot that they weren’t just wearing makeup and her lack of pallor isn’t due to forgetting to cake it on or going for a lighter touch. No, she’s recovering from some poison symptoms. As are a few others. Apparently my corruption is fixing some of the corrupted.

Yay, question mark?

So, I’m losing some protections, but I can learn more poisons, which will probably help pull up more of Silent Howl’s memories, and I can become more safe. Toxic. Poisonous. Holy shit I’m toxic because I’m down bad when I’m out. “Mind blown” versus “how the fuck did I not figure that out already?”. Fight!

So now I’ve got her lauding me for the foresight to coat myself in this mysterious antidote, and she wants me to get her a pot, too. She promises to be very good to me and always have my back, so we should really be looking out for one another.

I know she’s friendly, but we just met and she’s trying to get me to swear an oath. Nah, I’m good. I laugh, honestly, and tell her that promises won’t matter if I don’t survive the training, dishonestly. Considering what I’ve already done and been through, how hard can this training be?

She moves me out of their hidden mountain fortress into a section that looks like it might have been a bubble in the rock, which is an alarming thought, or blasted out leaving a ragged gap in the side of the mountain, more alarming. This open area is nice and green, which I mistake for grass and trees, then find out that it’s one type of moss that they use as a general antidote. She tells me she’s going to have to leave me here, but, as a novitiate, I’m expected to gather the moss since it would ruin the hard won cultivation of the more advanced members. She gestures to other people, mostly sunken cheek and hollow eyed, and suggests I learn more from one of them. Then she leaves, pausing at the door to wave back at me, and remind me that I owe her a present of potted scales.

This is bullshit. I came here for food, managed to steal some snacks, and they want me to handle something that might “cure” me? Part of me screams and sputters in indignation and it takes a check of my logs to see it’s not me me, but my inner Silent Howl berating me for thinking something as weak as Saint’s Tears Moss would be strong enough to affect me in any way. Part of the rant I read literally says, “I wouldn’t use Saint’s Tears Moss to scrub the sweat off my balls,” with several exclamation marks. What the fuck?

Oh, it’s snake oil salesman bullshit. The name is based on a scam where people would sell it as a cure all and curse breaker, when in actuality it’s more like a cool cloth to ease discomfort. Literally, it’s used as a cool cloth, is super sensitive to poisons, and people had sold it as a cure when it’s better used as an indicator. The moss is so sensitive that even trace amounts of poison in someone’s sweat could change it’s color and texture, but con-artists would say it was absorbing the poisons.

Neat. Why the fuck do I have to gather it?

I pull up a handful and shove it in my mouth, -- malicious compliance, -- but it just tastes like sweet water and grass. Someone, watching my antics or wondering why the hell I got escorted by Sis, -- someone had been escorted with us and sent to speak to someone sitting on a stool near several burlap sacks, but that bish dropped me in the middle of the fields with no instruction other than find an instructor, -- hustles over to me. They cast slack-jawed, worried looks back to the stairs and the “real” clan members as they hustle over to me.

I watch as they prune the moss, -- apparently it’s more like mini trees than actual moss, but I was too salty to notice, -- and fill in the gaps I made by ripping the shit up wholesale. They quietly tell me that we’re supposed to cut through the pale green parts, -- it’s colored like watermelon rind, dark green on top, paler near the roots, -- leaving the roots and some of the pale green to regrow. He’s using a small slightly curved blade, about the length of his hand from his wrist to the tip of his pinky, to slice through the springy fibrous plant before gently laying the layer down in a basket he has on his hip.

“Thank you for your instruction,” I say as the moss around us takes on a rainbow hue. “You might want to cut around this patch. It’s going to keep spreading, maybe.”

There’s a shout from the top of the stairs leading down to this hollow of greenery and light, and everyone turns to see the man from the stool pointing down at me and shouting. I wasn’t paying attention, but apparently what he’s saying is a call to arms for everyone to start clear cutting around the patch that’s dying around me.

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I’m not apologizing. If nothing else, Sis should have seen that I’m not so simple. I’m covered in powerful “antidote”, I handle “toxic” things, and this stuff responds poorly to poison. Not. My. Fault.

“I’m Sandy,” I turn to the man who came to help me and is now pleading his innocence. “If anyone tries to punish you for this I’ll eat them,” I reassure him. I need to soul suck, this is just a good reason to.

When did soul sucking go from a shameful “am I the monster?” to “it’s good to get my steps in?”. I warn my new friend, who refuses to give me his name, -- but it’s in my logs, bitch! This is Wide Oak. He is my new friend. Whether he wants to be or not. -- not to touch any glitter he sees, but he just backs away while pleading his innocence. While my new friend is distancing himself I warn everyone not to touch me or I might shed scales, that’s what happened to the moss.

“The moss attacked you? Does the wind attack you? Do your brains attack you? Idiot!” Little Frog barks at me. Aw… He’s so tiny and trying to be so fierce.

I stare blankly at him. Does this dumbass think the rainbow moss effect is an illusion? Who’s he barking at? Noisy, little dog…

According to my logs I said that last part out loud. Whoops. I watch as he sputters, blinking and twitching, working himself into a frenzy, and then someone puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. The new person, Fragrant Wine, narrows their eyes while baring their teeth at me. Oh! They’re pretending they’re smiling. They do not look friendly at all.

“Little brother!” he looks down at my chest and freezes.

“I am bot and neither,” I shrug. “Sister, brother, it makes no difference.”

“Oh, so you’re a pervert!” Noisy Dog shouts, reaching forward and smooshing my boob as he rips my robe open.

[Silk Spray Successful]

[Successful Use 5/100]

[Qi -20]

[Karma -200]

[Current Condensed Qi: 1,831,177/23,817,775]

[Current Qi: 1,812,026/957,945,100]

[Current Karma: 95,271,102/107,275,977]

[Max Will: 9,579,451]

[Mortal Wallet: 12E,692K,180P,697R,179Da,155De,105k]

[Spirit Wallet: 0Dr,0Ph,0Th,1325Di,126Co,10680St]

“No, I am male and female,” I say, covering myself up as people recoil as Noisy Dog flails.

Slimy Smile stares at me in shock, hands still raised from where he rested them on Noisy Dog’s shoulder and arm. The starved looking members, all of whom look like they’re wearing normal house robes, not culty gear, are busy trying to save the moss. No one is helping Noisy Dog.

“I have the parts to be male. I have the parts to be female. I have no preference. Don’t be rude,” I say slowly and clearly waiting to see how they’re going to deal with the wad of silk and wondering what it could be imbued with given my noodle rich diet of the last 3 years.

No. The first year there was no communication, then they started talking, so I guess maybe only a single year? Unless there was a blind exchange going on and then they figured out who was doing what…

I come back to now, arm crossed under my chest, pulling at my lower lip thoughtfully, no recollection of taking this stance. Noisy Dog is standing still while Sis watches, -- Logs say the old overseer is Quiet Crow, -- Quiet Crow is attempting to figure out how to remove my silk, Noisy Dog staying absolutely still, unless the old man is using some weird pressure point technique, but it just looks like he’s gripping his arm to keep him from moving.

“Big Sis, what happened?” Sis whispers loudly, waving me over. If I fuck up the moss, I’ve no idea how she’s even allowed in here.

“He ripped open the front of my robes so I spit in his face,” I shrug before remembering the moss as she lets out a scandalised gasp. “Oh! I pulled up some moss and contaminated the rest. Apparently they’re spreading the essence contamination without assistance. It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?”

A carpet of rainbow moss? RGB waves of color rolling out as the moss goes through stages of decay. Looks cool as shit. Too bad it’s not sustainable. Could probably make a mint as an entertainment piece.

“Why would he pull open your robes?” she asks, Gods bless her.

“I am male and female. He thought I was a man dressed as a woman,” I point out while literally pointing him out. “He called me a pervert, grabbed my breast, and ripped my robes open.”

“Idiot!” Sis hisses, whipping out her fan. She turns and attempts to strike Noisy Dog with the closed focus, but Slimy Smile jumps in with a look of terror.

I watch as Sis struggles to force her fan down, Slimy Smile easily blocking her with his wrist. It looks like his wearing a black wristband, and I don’t know if it’s protecting him from the poison, or coated with poison, but she’s not getting through his block at all. She huffs, pulling back and stomping her foot, Slimy Smile fake laughing with his fake smile as he sees she’s not going to push the issue.

“Why is Noisy Dog so important?” I ask, gesturing towards where Noisy Dog is sitting crossed legged, meditating or cycling as the old man shaves my silk off his face.

“Who is a noisy dog?” Slimy Smile snaps, face blank as he clenches his jaw and glares at me.

“You take my harvest of Umber Leaf and Death Bean and more, and you defend him after he shames me?” I point out, dropping a tea leaf and a mushroom potato on the ground.

Sis shrieks, kneeling to pick them up, bare-handed, stumbling back ans she clutches them to her chest. Hmm? Are these treasures? I check my logs and she thinks I am literally a treasure trove. She legit thinks I’m some kind of trickster spirit causing a ruckus and leaving behind treasure as compensation. What the fuck?

Why aren’t I mad…? But I am…

Didn’t Shimmering Steel think the same fucking thing?

“Bullshit,” I grumble quietly to myself before remembering I’m the center of focus. Again.

“Please, the Novitiate is clearly too advanced to work in the Moss Cavern,” the old man bows politely, having casually removed all of my silk and shaved Noisy Dog’s face baby smooth. He’s got his head down, true, but his arms are up and politely directing us to get the fuck out. “Please leave before we lose the entire crop. We don’t have enough roots to restart.”

Not my problem. I continue watching as Noisy Dog stands off to the side, running his hands over his cheeks and chin. He’s thoroughly impressed by how smooth they are, and completely ignorant that his eyebrows are gone. He wonders if he can get the old man to teach him how to be so precise with a blade which causes me to wonder the same before remembering that the old man probably fucking hates me now. Kinda fucked up his farm.

Sis hustles over to me, wrapping an arm around mine and shuffling out. I give her a quick send asking to keep Wide Oak safe and she says she’ll have him made my servant so I don’t damage any of the other more delicate plants. As she drags me off, Wide Oak pale and wide-eyed in tow, I get to learn that she’s a bit of an airhead.

She knew my voice was deep, but didn’t recognize the manly timbre despite the fact that I’ve got one of the deepest voices I’ve heard. She warns me that there are some people, from small backwoods villages, -- her words, not mine, -- who might make trouble for me if they think I’m Twin Souled, -- which sounds like it means trans, -- or that I’m a hermaphrodite, -- because somehow that’s just as bad as playing pretend? Guess having the parts don’t count unless they’re functioning, -- and I guess that parts my fault since I never chose a sex.

She ignores my friend until we’re back in “my” suite, telling him he can sleep on the floor before turning back to me. I’ve got more poisons? I can go work in the lab where all of these things are processed. If I survive processing I might even get a chance to work on handling the more deadly poisons. Because a job well done is rewarded with more work, and I should be grateful for the chance?

See if I don’t sneak a snack or two. How’s that for gratitude?