Moriko frowned, “no, the tentacled things belong in the sea, it’s not natural for them to slop about on land. Maybe they are not undead or corrupted spirits or whatever, but they still aren’t right.” She seemed quite adamant in this conviction, founded entirely in a child’s concept of ‘gross’.

"Ah, them." Saneyuki nodded. "They are scary, aren't they? Almost voiceless, dragging themselves around. Yet, I assure you, there is nothing unnatural about them. They are just as natural as the otori or the screamers. They are children of this world, just as the stalks and the wing-fish are." The priest was now smiling gently. "Scary? I would say so. But the nature cares little. The nature just is." He somehow managed to make that sound enviable. "They all just live as their nature dictates."

Moriko set her jaw, pouting, she couldn't actually argue with his point, but it would take some time to reconcile the idea of translocating the land-cephalopods well away from the farm instead of destroying them.

"Hmm? Did I say something strange?" The young priest asked.

Sniffing petulantly, "no, you're right," she confessed in a sulky voice. "They're still icky, though."

"That they are." the priest nodded sympathetically, leaning to check that Moriko had still tea in her cup. "I have to admit that I am bit wary of the otori myself. They are so... large." he admitted, smiling shyly. "And he huge beaks..." the thought was left lingering in the air.

Cheering, "oh, oh no, you don't want to be bitten by an otori, that would be bad," she said it with the conviction of someone who had suffered a warning nip or two and knew how severe that could be. "They can be skittish, the trick is you have to be confident. If you're not confident, they'll think there's danger nearby, and they'll get all nervous."

"I would think so. I've seen them eating." Saneyuki looked a little bit flustered. "Rather messy that." The large birds persisted for the most part on fungal matter, using their large beaks to crush their way through the hard supporting outer layers to get into the nutrient storage beneath. A small herd of the creatures could decimate a young fungal thicket in a matter of hours. "I also hear they are scavengers." Otori were not too picky on what they ate, as long as they didn't have to run too hard to catch it, eagerly devouring carcasses when they stumbled upon on. In many ways, it was the great birds that kept the fungal forests pristine.

"I would like to think myself confident, but well. I am this tall..." he indicated his height with his hand, then pushing his arm up in the air. "And they are that tall."

“They are efficient,” Moriko agreed, somewhat generously. “I guess it’s different for me, I’ve been around otori since I could walk, back when I was only as tall as their knees.” She twirled her cup in her hands, “I don’t know, otori make more sense to me than people. Their needs are simple: to eat, to sleep, shelter, companionship, safety. No otori that has these things is going to bite anyone.”

"That could we be it." Saneyuki conceded. "We fear what we don't know, don't we." He suggested, leaning over once more. "Whether it is the dark or the white death. Now, samurai of course is not supposed to fear. But how you manage that? Now there is a question." The young man drummed the table with his fingers. "This is why lantern is such a potent symbol. It pushes away the darkness, it reveals the truth." Slowly, Saneyuki traced the kani for 'lantern' on the table.

When Moriko noted that the otori made more sense to her, Saneyuki chuckled. "They are more pluffy at least, even if they still manage to be intimidating." This time he raised his hand to cover his smile, as if he was somewhat ashamed of what he had just said. "Oh is that so? They do look rather grumpy if you ask me." There was a hint of mirth in his tone, the young priest joking even as he spoke his mind.

Moriko laughed softly, blushing, “there are people who look grumpy all the time, too. The otori can’t help how they were made,” she thought of Ten, sulking next to her, and the way he always looked like he was about to start laughing. “I could introduce you to some friendly otori, if you like. They might be less complicated than people, but they still have individual personalities, and we have a few on the ranch that are just sweethearts.”

The girl sipped her tea, forming the opinion that Saneyuki would cut a dashing figure on otori-back, hair caught by the wind. “The ones that are the most calm and gentle are best for teaching new riders, and we breed for stoic disposition and bravery. A timid otori is a danger to its rider, and often no good for any kind of work.” She didn’t mention that such unfortunate creatures generally ended up as food.

"Oh yes." he nodded in agreement. "You won't find a single face like that here, though. We are content with out lot." While she had no reason to believe him, it was clear that the young man believed himself. "Mhmm. Maybe after the ritual, yes?" Saneyuki offered, smiling still. "We are busy setting everything up."

"I would think so, yes. Not that I have met that many birds. There's little use for them here. The small plantations we have can be managed by the monks and the heimin living here. And when we go to the city, we'll either walk or..." he coughed softly. "Take a car."

"Ah, but that is bit like how it's with humans too, don't you think? It is the brave men and women we hear about. Strive to be. Look up to. Maybe because we see in them what we could be." Unlike Otori, no-one ate the meek humans, with the notable exception of few Spider colonies well heimin were fed their deceased companions as part of their nutrient biscuits.

“I guess when you grow up with otori so integral to your every day, your perspective tends to be different.” She shrugged one shoulder and tossed a stray strand of hair back from her face, “I have nothing against cars, I can drive well enough to get around if I needed. It all comes down to the situation, doesn’t it? A car is never going to get spooked by a screamer darting across its path, but even the most upmarket ATV can’t match an otori over rough terrain.”

"That sounds likely. Just like I cannot imagine a life in the city, having lived my life here." Saneyuki nodded, lifting up the pot once more, only to lay it down on the table as he realized that it was empty, chuckling sheepishly as he laid the pot down. "I guess we had it all." Shrugging, he pushed his cup next to the pot, letting Moriko still hold to hers.

"No. And car is getting you in the city in one piece. Without having to wear a gas mask when the stuff's in the air." 'the stuff' referred to the spores, many of which could choke a grown man to death. Luckily large blooms were rare and unless the winds were particularly fierce, a skilled rider could escape death rather easily merely by changing direction. "Mhmh, we prefer to travel on foot. Feel the ground beneath our feet." Saneyuki tapped his knee. "It's rough, but you get used to it."

The girl let her gaze be drawn to Saneyuki's knee, thoughtful for a moment. "I certainly don't mind the feeling of solid earth beneath my feet, but there's something to be said for the feeling of a living creature between your thighs." She blundered on, "there is something... vital, connected, to feeling the movement of muscle and sinew and..." Moriko turned bright red, looking away and bringing a hand up to hide her face as her brain caught up to the words that had been artlessly tumbling from her mouth.

In a small voice, "my apologies, Asako-sama, I only meant that the heartbeat of the planet is too massive to really feel, but the breath of a... living..." she trailed off, fearing she was making it worse.

Red tinted Saneyuki's cheeks, the young man looking down for a moment. "Ahem, yes. I am sure that can feel exhilarating as well." Having recovered his on, he looked up again as if nothing happened. "Feeling alive, I suppose?" Saneyuki offered as if she had said nothing strange. "You feel only truly alive when you have to push yourself, to test yourself. We think this is for a reason. We believe that straining the body allows the soul the freedom it needs." He kept repeating the tenets of his creed. "That is why we do what we do."

"I am afraid I should get back to my duties, Shiba-san." Saneyuki bobbed his head apologetically. "Perhaps we can talk again the next time you come over?" There was a assumption that she would come as if he knew something she didn't.

Moriko was only to too happy to escape the embarrassment of her own making, "yes, of course, Asako-sama, I've kept you for far too long already." She gathered herself in preparation to leave, "I hope our paths cross again, soon."

"Well, I would think so!" he quipped, the same seemingly omniscient smile lingering still on his lips. "Though, please let me show you the way. We don't want you to make a wrong turn, neh." Saneyuki stood up, brushing his robes as he walked to Moriko. "This way Shiba-san."

/scene