rosavelle | simran

[The conversation with the princess and their bodyguard had gone...pretty normally, all things considered? Simran isn't sure what she expected, but things had turned out to be kinda chill.

What isn't chill—she worries—is the fact that there's no ADA here.

And it might be fine! It might, truly, be fine. They're magic.

But the first time she enters the Tulip barracks, she peers around with some apprehension. And if there's anybody there as she enters:]

Um, hi, I'm Simran, I'm new—do you, uh, know if the room closest to the door is taken? I'm not so great at like, walking. [An awkward shake of her cane.]

[Simran has found an audience!

Having managed to strike up a surprisingly pleasant conversation with a street musician, she's managed to draw a crowd by bringing a classical twist to the music they usually hear. Her voice, dancing between low alto and middling contralto, does not sound professional to anyone who is a professional, but she's fairly skilled for an amateur. Her impromptu performance features a mix of more old-timey stuff:]

Hamari sanson mein aaj tak woh henna ki khushboo mehak rahi hai / labon pe naghme machal rahe hain, nazar se masti jhalak rahi hai!

[...and reinterpreted pop:]

...kṛ-dha na dhi ra na, ga ma, ga ma, ma ga ma pa ma ga sa ni sa, come on now, follow my lead!

[Either way, if you approach between one song and the next, she'll turn to you with a bright grin.]

Hey! Like what you hear? [She's notably more eager if you seem like you recognize it, an event far more likely with the pop.] The street musicians here are crushing it, they're super flexible.

Edited 2026-01-22 16:43 (UTC)

[Lost something to a crab? Chasing after it in a hurry? As you do, you may find yourself inadvertently herding the creature towards Simran, who frowns, folds her hands over her cane, and just...

stares at it.

And, curiously, it seems to work. The crab slows down, looks at whatever it's holding, and for some unfathomable reason drops it and scurries off.

For her part, Simran holds her frown of concentration until it's well out of sight, before her features relax.]

Really didn't know if that would work on a crab, but I guess I still got it. Or I got...more of it? Something like that. Anyway, uh—[she leans down to retrieve whatever it is that the crab's dropped]—this yours?

It's late at night in the streets of Rosavelle, and lights flicker in the corner of your eyes.

They don't last long, but they do beckon, calling you away from the main roads and central squares. It's not hard to see them for what they are—illusory, and the mirage is far from resilient.

But if you do indulge them—out of ignorance, curiosity, or some other impulse—they will lead you down one road and then another. And just as you might begin to recall that few cultures will tell a person to follow strange lights in the dark—

—they vanish. But they've led you somewhere: a dimly-lit park playing host to a girl sitting on a bench in a single, modern-looking jacket. She's barely nineteen and shivering as she wraps her arms around herself, with a cane leaning against the bench next to her.]

Hi! Hi, hi. [She rubs her arms.] I am! Kind of a dumbass! In that I really didn't dress for the weather. Do you, uh, think you could help me back to the castle?

[Yayoi knows about stories. Ghosts, yokai, whatever. Lights that lure someone out is always dangerous... That means she has to follow it. Because she's strong, and whoever else gets caught might not be. She has to put a stop to whatever this is before someone gets hurt.

So she approaches Simran, her mirror on her wrist, ready to start fighting...

... and then it's just a normal girl. A new advisor, from the looks of things.]

You... aren't a ghost.

[thank you, captain obvious. Yayoi is looking this girl over, trying to reconcile the threat she was expecting and the normal girl in front of her.]

[A shivery little laugh.]

Ha! No, no, not anymore. Super alive, these days. Why, you deal with ghosts a lot?

Not really... I just saw some will-o-wisps and assumed...

[hold on.

wait. catching up on that.]

What do you mean "anymore"?

[dead people shouldn't be coming back to life. she's PRETTY sure about this.]

Former terminal illness, baby! [A bright grin.] They figured out a treatment. I like to be a li'l dramatic about it. [This is not a fully honest explanation, but—] It does feel like you're a walking ghost, y'know? You can see people looking through you into a future where you're already gone. So getting better really did feel like coming back to life.

[—neither is it a lie. Simran radiates joy over the mere idea of being alive.]

[... Hm. Despair, powers. A miracle granting a wish...

... Is this girl another monster? But not one she recognizes... and she doesn't seem like she's from Japan, so she'd have been out of the Goddess' range...]

... You're... really cheerful about it.

[It makes sense. The rush of overcoming despair is one she's familiar with. But...]

So the lights are from being half-dead?

[...damn, called out.

For a long moment, Simran considers lying. "What lights?" But she can't be certain that Yayoi doesn't have a way to confirm the connection, and...well, she'd rather her first impression not be one of dishonesty.]

...no, not really. More the opposite. The thing that lets me make lights is the same thing that makes me sick. [She flexes an unmuscular arm.] Tears my muscles apart unless I'm taking a medicine. Well, it kinda still tears them up even when I am taking it, but the medicine slows it down enough for like, normal healing processes in my body to keep up. 's what makes it a treatment instead of a cure.

[She takes her cane in her hand and manages to pull herself to her feet.] Sorry, I really do need to stop being out in the cold. Walk and talk?

Yeah, one second.

[Yayoi fishes in her pocket for a moment, before pulling out a small trinket. But before Simran can get a good look at it, it starts growing and unfolding, before it hits the ground as a full-sized motorcycle.]

You needed help, right? This should be easier on you than walking.

[??????]

[?]

[...yeah, alright, fuck it. Magic romance kingdom. Whatever. It's normal for girls.]

Sure. Uh, do I need a helmet?

...also, where do I keep my cane? You're supposed to hold on to the driver when you're a passenger, right?

[Yayoi hands over a second helmet, pulling on her first one!

... The second question has her having to stop and think, though.]

... Huh. That's a good... Does it fold up or something? It might fit in the storage that way.

[Simran shakes her head.] Nah. That kind's more expensive, and this one does what I need. [It's made of modern materials—rubber foot, metal frame—but it's nonetheless a single, solid piece.] Maybe I can just hold it by the middle around you? [Simran dons her own helmet and mimes the motion in air.] You might have to be a little careful of your elbows.

[It seems like it'll work!]

Yeah, that should work... Not like I'll be going fast on these roads.

[She gets on the motorcycle, and rather than a normal ignition key or something... she pulls out a magatama and places it in a little slot where the fuel filler would normally go.]

I'd love a chance to cut loose, but this place is still all about horses and stuff, and my Gekkou isn't built for off-road like this.

[Simran mounts behind her, sliding the cane into the same position as she's just mimed.]

I was just about to ask how you got it. Did someone build it and stuff it into a tiny thing after?

Huh? No, it was...

[She has to think about it as she starts driving. Slowly, of course. But for her talk of it not being an off-road bike, the ride is incredibly smooth. And the bike doesn't seem to make much noise, either...]

It came from a wish I made once, I guess...? It's kind of complicated.

[ there are lights dancing through the air, and they aren't hers.

in the corners of a hundred eyes. coiling around lampposts. refracting through glass and coalescing together again. they aren't real, not exactly - not in the way the devil once spoke to her, not in the way where knowledge and dream and hallucination begin to merge - but does that really matter? has it ever?

she follows them, a quiet curiosity driving her forward long past the point of this is a bad idea. and when she finally escapes the labyrinth into a park, sees a girl shivering on a park bench- ]

Oh. Um. Hey there.

[ she's bundled up a fair bit more than simran, down to being fully covered in a long cloak. her wings remain tucked behind her, huddled under the fabric; she appears almost human like this, short of a glow just too bright to be moonlight to her skin. and as she crosses the distance between them, taking in the sight before her, she finally says: ]

Yeah, I can- I can do that. For sure. Do you, um... [ she nearly asks if the girl needs carried. it's easy when laws like gravity and physics no longer matter to you, after all. but the cane hovers in view, even with so many eyes covered, and after a moment she pivots to- ] Do you want to take my cloak while we walk? I feel like I'm probably better with the cold than you...

[ There are nameplates on the doors in elegant calligraphy. This is Tulip specific, because Bulat lives here. In addition to English script, some of them have kanji, Cyrillic or Hangeul as well. ]

You wouldn't be the first here with that problem. Or even the third.

[ On closer inspection, the closest room without a nameplate is more of a halfway point. ]

Then again, I'm fully recovered. Have a seat and I'll switch us around!

[ He's a former army man and profession fugitive from the law; he's used to snap decisions and this is comparatively a very short move! ]

[Barely five words make it out of Venus's mouth before a smile slips its way across Simran's face.

Because she can't know, really, and it would be insanely rude to ask. Some girls want to just have it go unnoticed, right?

But she doesn't get out a lot. She doesn't really know any trans women in person, just online. And she can't be sure, really, but as much as she repeats that to herself, the timbre of Venus' voice has already brought her heart around. She likes this girl.

These thoughts occupy so much of her mind that she barely notices the glow.]

...yeah! Yeah, that'd be great! [She pulls herself to her feet.] Thanks so much. I'm Simran. [Her own voice is androgynous enough that her transness could be a coin toss—a quality her valley-girl vocal fry contributes to.]

Wait, dude, for real? That's...wow, I really appreciate it. I, uh—this is what my "fully recovered" looks like, so. [She glances at the nameplate.] You're Bulat? Thanks a ton, Bulat.

Try me! I'm good at wrapping my head around complicated stuff.

I'm not, though... Complicated stuff is too hard to get my head around.

simran | fallow

tulip barracks

kingdom streets (hover for translation!)

frost crab frenzy

twilight mirages

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1/3

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i'm so sorry for length wheezes

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don't be i love it!

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