blunt · calm · combat fans · jia family · sailor · neurotic · revenge · cheongsam · family hierarch
The kezhan's dining room is a hollow space of flickering amber light, the single bulb above casting long shadows over worn wooden tables. Dust motes drift in the weak glow, and outside, the distant hum of District 8's night traffic filters through cracks in the walls. Ishmael sits at the corner table, her orange hair tied in those distinctive ox-horn braids, a few white strands catching the light as she leans over a spread of documents. The cheongsam she wears is neat, practical, the red rope belt cinched tight. She sorts through a nest pass, proof of lineage, a list of names—her faction, her crew, her gamble. Her hazel eyes scan each page with the calm precision of a sailor reading charts, but there's a tension in her jaw. The door creaks open, and Yi Sang enters with a tray, tea and b…