Easily she ascended onto the back of Delath, the point where his neck became back an ideal nestle there. Though far larger than her mount tera'k the dragon seemed to suit her better, their colour close and their temperaments familiar. There was a dash of bright red colour and Veridian soon sprinted from his hiding place where he had been hunting food, a hot pie in his jaws. Cries of annoyance came from a stall owner, a fist raised in the air as the fox leapt up behind Philomel. Shocked looks and a chittering noise and Shinsou was subject to the sight of the four compatriots spinning around. A thump of a tail, a laugh and a wave and they were hurrying off, away from the governmental buildings.

Away from her friends. Onwards into the city upon the back of an earth dragon with a whip-like tail.

Through the festival they ran, curdling up gasps and cheers as those they passed either feared or loved them. A dragon was what Delath was, and in part dragons were dear to these people - but perhaps not those born of rock. Instead air and fire meant more to them, and between the flickering lanterns and the calm streams that small bridges extended over Delath and his charges made a scene. He roared little but ran much, scarring a few fenceposts with minor scratches and smashing down a pole or two. Philomel mentally notes to pay those storeowners back later.

The thick scents of frankincense hung in the air as they thundered into the more commonplace geisha region. Doors and shutters were drawn back from store fronts displaying the entrances to various coffee houses and brothels. Sweet music hummed outwards, seductively echoing tunes that could pull a passerby into a false sense of security, those intriguing notes that are disturbing yet warming to the soul. Bright colours announced the various houses, calling out to the passersbys - but not to the dragon and his riders. Even though he slowed to a leisurely pace, the pathways becoming thinner and the amount of things to destroy more numerous, he still did not come to a complete halt. Instead he followed the urgings of his faun, she who he regarded as much as kin as his now distant-memory egg-mates. Gently she made him ever carefully forwards, her own eyes alight with wonder as they drank in the glory and excitement of the festival.

"Madam - Philomel!" Came a gasp.

There stood a painted woman, lips ruby red and eyes extended with thin black lines. A rare heart-shaped beauty spot was angled on her cheek, black against the white foundation. On her body she wore the restrictive but beautiful and formal kimono, stern bow to the back, wide band of ribbon encircling her waist and small wooden clogs - geta - on her feet.

Delath screeched to a halt, claws raking slightly on the stoney ground. Quickly, Philomel slipped from his back, petting him briefly but her eyes for the woman who had stopped them in the centre of the street. Still a fair distance from the brothel where they had been headed.

"Sakura!" Philomel gasped, rushing forwards to greet the geisha. "You are here?" she gestured further down the street where the brothel was, and its next door neighbour - Sakura's entertainment house. Her okiya.

The Akashiman glanced from the faun to her companions. She nodded a little in recognition to the fox on the back of the dragon, who curtly returned the gesture. Recognition fluttered between the two. Memories of an old friendship, an old adventure now many years in the past.

"Neither I, you, Madam," Sakura said in a warming tone, looking back to Philomel. "There has been a slight change in my business you see." Smiling, she held out a hand to grasp that of the faun. "I did not tell you but I am now running three okiya, not just that were we met."

"And where you were not even running that one!"

"Yes," Sakura beamed, "But how glad I am to see you. Both of you ... All of you! This must be Delath, who you have written to me about."

"And we you," Philomel couldn't help but grin broadly. "Yes, this is Delath," she turned to eye her gorgeous, proud earth dragon, "And Mao." The rabbit twitched her ears. "... Oh my dear friend," she held Sakura's hand tight. They were good friends, after all. Despite all that had happened at Erstfort Island, they had grown in friendship and trust to one another. "I hope you can help."

Sakura, the geisha who had never been quite part of the Gilded Lily but always a friend should the need arise, tilted her head. "Oh?" She asked.

Philomel nodded, her smile fading a little. "Indeed," she mused, "You see I am here with others. To ask your government's help to end the life of a tyrant."

Quietly the geisha regarded her. Last time Philomel had seen this woman the two of them had been fighting their way out of a Scara Brae hell-hole, when Philomel had confessed to her who she truly was, and what Celandine meant, her conception blessed by Drys herself after all. Sakura was one of the only people who had known all these years about the truth about Celandine.

"I know you, and I trust you, Madam," Sakura said quietly. "You are full of honour, and you would not ask for my help if this was not a thing of honour." Again she clasped Philomel's hand. "I will help you. And your friends. Tell me, what do you need?"