Open your hearth to your family and friends! Seat them at your table, wet their throats and fill their stomachs. Such gatherings please IWA, who has seen all things and heard all things, and knows the beginning and end of Existence. There is joy in having every seat occupied, in flowing wine and fragrant meat passed between hands.

-Pleasures 6:23, Holya New Inter-Alliance Translation

Over the city of Coine, then over the South Gate that did not tower nearly as grandly as its twin in the north, and Nemira soon found herself greeted by the picturesque view of Viridian Hills, a sprawling expanse of rolling slopes dotted with herds of cows, sheep, and horses. Her Firmament-touched eyes allowed her to see what lay hidden beyond the physical plane. She spotted licks of searing white fire hiding among the farm animals, drifting along the long and winding country road, and clustered together on hilltops. The more wild the corporeal environment, the more aetherians were likely to linger at the ground level rather than keep to the skies. Well-curated farmlands ensured a thriving otherworldly community.

Nemira flew at a leisurely pace, scanning the lands below her for the tell-tale black Void flame of rampaging aetherians or fully realized aberrants, and nodded to herself in satisfaction when she saw nothing of concern. Monitoring Viridian Hills was part of her regular duties as the summoner of Coine, but it always felt more like a break from the hustle and bustle of the city-state proper than anything else. It was quiet and the sky was crisply blue after so many days of autumn rain. Everything before her seemed to stand out in vivid detail. It was a welcome change of scenery after several days of restless recovery.

Even in a place as peaceful as Viridian Hills, most residents were loath to live too far apart from each other or too far from the South Gate lest a horde of aberrants come calling. It took Nemira less than twenty minutes to reach the neighborhood of Broadleaf Way and roughly half a second to spot her target along the unevenly spaced houses that wound up a gentle, tree-speckled hill. It was a wide and rustic one-story affair built of wood and pale brick that peeked out from ivy that grew over it like a luxurious coat of leaves. A shocking amount of plants and flowers in every color surrounded the property at large, while smoke curled invitingly out of its chimney. With a small smile, Nemira tilted her torch downward and sped toward her mothers' home.

"Hey!" A short, deeply  dark-skinned woman wearing soil-streaked overalls and a wide sun hat came bustling out of the greenhouse next to the ivy-covered house as Nemira descended. She tilted her head up as she waved her down, revealing her gentle, easy-smiling face. Scepter Heteti Bizen-Rava vah Sahas, arithmancer extraordinaire in the fields of potioneering and botany and one of the reasons Nemira survived childhood at all. "I was beginning to think I had simply imagined your existence."

"Sorry, Mama," Nemira called back. "Things are starting to get quite hectic in the city. The Council is not shy about putting me to work."

She halted her torch right in front of her and leapt off of it with a graceful kick of her legs. She could so clearly see herself bouncing thoughtlessly into her mama's arms for a giant hug that her heart twisted in protest at what she had to do instead. She bent her head down and let Heteti brush her lips lightly against each cheek. After so many years under her care, Heteti's sunset-glow pneuma no longer scratched at Nemira's skin, but it still took some time to re-acclimatize to it when they spent any length of time apart.

"Mila's on lunch duty today," Heteti told her when they drew apart, her smile even wider. "Go greet her and settle down, I'll be back in the house in a bit."

Nemira did as her mama suggested, strolling up the stone path to the front of the house, taking in all the plant life with great interest. With its yard of clover and wildflowers, the property never looked quite the same each time she visited throughout the seasons. At the moment, the ivy around the house was a brilliant weave of yellows, reds, and golds that caught the eye from a great distance away. Thick shrubs of strange, fuchsia-colored berries she didn't have a name for lined each side of the stone walkway, emitting a faintly sweet aroma that dared her to put one in her mouth, while much more familiar looking pansies bloomed white and purple petals between the bushes. Flora sprites ran amok among the abundant plants, chattering to each other in voices too tiny for Nemira to hear without focusing her ears deep in the Firmament. Some stopped to wave or nod at her as she passed by. Nemira nodded at them in acknowledgement, as was proper conduct for a summoner, and headed into the house.

Save for the fireplace, her mothers' living space looked quite a lot like her own quarters above her shop but given much more room to breathe. There were many photographs hanging on the walls, mostly of family and friends they had throughout New Yamba and Rhuz, scenes from the wedding ceremonies they had held on both the mountains and the island to account for each side of the family, landscapes of some of the more untamed places they've visited in their mercenary work and Heteti's plant life research. If Nemira cared to look, she'd have been able to find plenty of shots of herself, pouting at the camera at various stages of her childhood. You were always as grouchy as a hornet disturbed from her nest, one of her many Yamban aunties had told her once, laughing as she perused the photo collections. She wasn't sure if she had changed all that much in that regard as she had grown older.

"Is that you, Nemi?"

A Rhuzian woman stood at the counter of the expansive kitchen. Deeply tanned and well over seven feet tall, she cut an impressive figure even in her rather frilly kitchen apron. Her horns were simply shaped, curving back over her skull and decorated with a few dangling gold ornaments. As a preeminent thaumaturge, she had such precise pneuma control that it did not billow from her head and shoulders, but shone a gentle gold like a perfectly cultivated sheaf of wheat from the diamond-shaped adamant at the center of her chest. She looked up from a sizable pile of dumplings and shot Nemira a grin, revealing a set of pearly fangs.

Nemira gave her a smile in return as she approached, rising on her toes so that her mom did not have to bend down so far to give her a smacking forehead kiss. She smelled of spicy minced pork and dough. "How've you been, Mom?"

"Peachy keen," Mila replied. "Willow stopped by just yesterday for more training, and last week me'n your mama had to go out to Pineseed Ranch to wipe out a gaggle of minor aberrants stealing their cows. Set the table, won’tcha? These are almost done."

It had been well over a month since she had last seen either of her mothers, but that time apart didn't seem to matter at all as she pulled out plates and utensils from the cabinet while Mila pan-fried the dumplings. They spoke of Mila’s various thaumaturgy students and the pair's recent mercenary work over the loud, oily sizzle of food, Heteti coming back in from the patio door and joining the conversation with the ease of one who had been there from the start. It wasn't quite like their heir home in the New Yamban province of Baxu, which usually had at least a few of her extended family dropping by at any given moment, nor was it very similar to their stay in the Temple of Our Kin, where they had been surrounded by priests and temple sentinels and the cool, rocky insides of the mountain. Nemira didn't think trying to decide on a favorite place out of the ones they had lived in was a very productive mental exercise. So long as her mothers were nearby, that was enough for her.

"So," Mila began as she set the serving plate of dumplings on the table. "We've gabbed enough about our work. Now it's your turn, my little peanut. What has that Council dragged you into this time?"

Heteti, who had changed out of her gardening clothes and into a clean dress embroidered with fluttering birds, sat down on one of the cushions with a worried crease to her brow. "They're not giving you more than you can handle, are they? How's your shoulder healing?"

Nemira poured freshly-made lemonade into tall glass cups. "My shoulder's fine, Mama. And the Council is...the Council."

"Not a great start," said Mila, frowning as she took a seat next to her wife. 

Nemira wondered if there was ever a time mentioning Council involvement ever bode well for the listeners who knew of them. She poured her own glass last and sat down in front of them as Heteti piled dumplings onto everyone's plates. "Well, my latest assignment began when Supernatural Public Guard officers invaded my shop..."

It took awhile to lay out everything that had happened during the mission. Just as she had predicted, her mothers grew increasingly unhappy the longer she spoke between bites of dumpling. By the end of it, Heteti had stopped eating entirely and Mila’s fangs were on full display.

“And now I am here,” she finished, and took a sip of lemonade to clear her throat.

Her mothers looked at each other, then back at Nemira. Dark clouds had gathered in their expression. Her vague hope that the food would relax them enough to ease their moods after how her assignment went vanished without a trace.

“We should have never stopped serving as your dat-tak,” said Mila. “Especially if that knight hanging around you is going to hang back like a coward while you fight alone against an unknown enemy.”

“I had asked him to hang back,” Nemira reminded her, trying not to sound too defensive. It seemed like any choice she made opened another door for someone to criticize her. “And seeing as how your attitude hasn’t budged in the slightest, Mom, it’s a good thing I asked him to do so again rather than accompany me here.”

“A pity,” Mila replied darkly. “I would have liked to test his mettle a bit before lunch.”

“Not on my yard you wouldn’t have,” Heteti cut in.

“Not at all, preferably,” cried Nemira. “Mom, I really hope you aren’t so against Sai-em simply because he failed his thaumaturgic baptism. He’s a medical miracle, not someone to be shunned!”

Mila sat back on her cushion. Her mouth had finally closed over her fangs, but the aggressive light in her gray hadn’t cooled all that much. “I don’t care. I still wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Nemira decided not to comment on exactly how easily Mila could throw someone if she felt like it.

“Nemi girl, you hold an important post,” she continued. “You should be wary of anyone with a past like his trying to cuddle too close to ya.”

Heteti looked at Mila, then Nemira. A pensive frown sat deeply in her face. It made her seem much older than she was. “Though I do not approve of any kind of brawl happening here should you ever invite him over, your mom still has a point. Sir Sai-em may very well be a wanted criminal in Rhuz that has nothing to do with his broken adamant. You have to tread carefully around him.”

Nemira snatched another dumpling from the pile and shoved it in her mouth, less out of hunger and more to use the chewing time to let her irritation cool a bit before her words became too snappish. “He is a Rhuzian criminal. Or was, I suppose. He was quite upfront about his banishment when he spoke to me about becoming my dayam.” 

“He’s been banished?” Heteti repeated, eyes wide. Mila snarled low in her throat. 

“Obviously because of that sword of his,” said Nemira. “If he hadn’t stolen it out of the Vault of Sinners, I’ll eat one of my head wraps.”

Heteti sighed. “Oh, you play a risky game, honey. The blessings of all the gods in Rhuz and New Yamba combined can’t keep you safe when you act this casually about keeping a banished man so close at hand.”

“Why the hell did you accept his Oath,” growled Mila. “You should have flung him out of your shop by his horns the second he admitted that!"

Nemira took another dumpling. She didn't immediately eat it, but dunked it in a little saucer of chili oil over and over again. What could she even say to her mothers? That the howling that had come from him when she had found him at the end of the Road had sounded so bereaved she still heard it in her dreams sometimes? That he had spoken the Oath to her with such intense sincerity it had shot a dark little thrill up her spine she did not understand? That her dream of being able to function alone as a summoner had shattered at her feet a pathetic two missions into her tenure?

"You know what they say about keeping friends close, and fools that are likely to give you a massive headache down the line if you don't keep an eye on them closer," she told them at last, and viciously tore the dripping dumpling in half with her teeth.