Kisara had spent the intervening days trying to lay low. The place wasn't exactly crawling with Dragonbloods and Immaculates, but it wasn't far off. The last thing she needed was some friendly dolt blowing her cover - what there was of it. Instead, she did what she could to learn about the city, and the players in it. It seemed like, as usual, the Realm was doing a simply sterling job of keeping the peace and making folk feel safe. But it was a day for celebration, for many people - the Dragonbloods scoffed at the idea of appeasing a terrestrial god, but everyone else seemed behind the idea.<br/><br/>Kisara had dressed as well as she could. A few of the survivors had donated some clothing to her, and she'd been able to muddle her way through adjusting it to fit well enough that she didn't look too stupid. A deep blue sleeveless tunic over a long-sleeved black top, a thick leather belt at her waist supporting her axes and a few pouches holding odds and ends and the few pieces of jade she still had. Clean, but worn, leather boots, and a pair of loose trousers in a deep green color completed the outfit Kersinta had deemed 'suitable' for the ceremony. Her hair was pulled back into a tight knot at the base of her neck, secured with a blue ribbon. She thought she looked pretty good, all told, even with it all being hand-me-downs.<br/><br/>They were in a small preparation chamber, and she was standing behind Kersinta, braiding a strand of blue glass beads into the woman's hair. "Remember," she said, her fingers working with the deftness that came from a youth as the default hairdresser for a horde of female cousins, "if you want to change your mind, I'm pretty sure we can beat up your . . . um, betrothed." She leaned around and smiled at the other woman. "He won't trouble your people after that, I think."<br/><br/>It felt odd, saying that she thought they could whip a god into better behavior. But there was every chance the four of them - assuming Mouse didn't sit out because she thought it was some kind of tricksy plot of Kisara's - could wallop even a decently powered deity well enough that he'd feel it. She didn't want to have to, but . . . well, he sounded like a jerk, and she wouldn't let someone she'd just almost died saving wind up in a situation where she might wish she hadn't been saved.