The evening breeze caresses her with the warm touch of a lover, bringing with it the sweet scent of the wisteria that cascades over the private courtyard's bright brick wall. Janna closes her eyes and faces into it, breathing deep of rich damp earth and heady pine, of smoky wood fires from the inns nestled beyond in the hidden city.
"You would think that Zaun and Ionia must belong to two different worlds," Janna sighs. The wind in her home town is nowhere near as familiar as it is here; in Zaun, it's generally too busy snarling around the smokestacks and worrying shutters loose from rotten tenement towers.
Her observation is rewarded by a quiet chuckle from the woman seated on the other side of the short tea table. "The difference in perspective that a few miles of open sea affords us is truly a wonder," Karma notes. Her voice rings deep and clear like a temple's bell. "In tradition, in attitude. In dress, even. That outfit of yours, for example, seems a touch stifling."
Janna's lips flare into a smile, and she blinks her eyes open, sliding a sidelong gaze in Karma's direction.
Ionian silks do wonders for her host, draped and tucked just so, highlighting all the important curves and plains without giving too much away. The austere cut of her robe evokes the image of arcane chants on a misty mountainside, but the relaxed pattern printed into the fabric reminds Janna of the boom and sizzle of bright-as-day fireworks at the close of a festival.
Few are trusted enough to see the Duchess dressed down, the Mantle of Decorum left spinning on a lacquered stand indoors. As comfortable as Karma looks in her silks, Janna spares a moment to consider the way she'd look out of them. Her sigh is strictly internal: she can be patient.
Karma, on the other hand, appears not to be focused on Janna's constricting attire at all. If anything, the Elder has her sights set out on a long-necked reptile, an iridescent fellow Janna has come to recognize as the garden's resident king. It's been edging across the top of the large reflection rock near the carp pond, chasing the last of the day's sunshine as it retreats across the marbled surface.
"They call it a power suit," Janna explains, following the lead of her Ionian companions and shifting into a more comfortable position. Sprawling across the wide veranda may not be the height of propriety, but she's had a hell of a week and this is Karma's sanctuary. "It's been said that the wearer of the Suit of Power gains great moxie and credibility among her peers."
Karma's expression is neutral, her tone even. "Is that what they say?" Her posture is impeccable but she can't keep her jade eyes from sparkling.
Janna dips her chin, glancing up to Karma over the tops of her wire frames. "The power suit is not to be taken lightly, my dear. Lesser women have fallen to the demands of this waistline." Ah. The reference steals Karma's dedicated attention in the way Janna hoped it might – there's no missing the Elder's gaze flickering down to Janna's stomach and back again to the sunning dragon.
The ex-Zaunite half-laughs, half-sighs, leaning back with her hands pressed flat to the varnished wood. "But to be honest, I needed a little borrowed moxie. 'Stifling' doesn't begin to cover the state of things back home."
Karma turns, on some instinctual cue no doubt, to the delicate pot steaming on the table between them. She passes a perceptive smile to Janna while pulling back a flowing sleeve. "Would you care to elaborate on your latest business in Zaun? It might help you to release some of that tension I can see in your aura. I'm here to listen."
Karma readies the tea things with such a nuanced grace that it amounts to a performance, a ritual. Janna is nearly hypnotized by every long-practiced motion, and the question doesn't register for a long moment. Only when her host pauses, teapot hovering expectantly over a pearl white cup, does Janna sit up and pull her legs in under her. She meets Karma's eyes for half a second, offering a sideways grin to answer the Ionian's concern.
"Where to start?" Janna shakes her head, lifting her face to the breeze once more, indulging in its soothing touch.
The air is always fresh in Ionia, but today she can scent the particular flavor of a recent thunderstorm, feel the latent energy like drowsy lightning dancing over her skin. She would have liked to have been here to see it roll in, bringing sudden dusk to midday; to stand under the clouds, laden with anticipation, and count the seconds until they broke wide open with a sound like the heavens splitting apart. She imagines the fat, warm rain drops pelting down, washing away the imagined grime that is the memory of her recent visit to Zaun.
Instead, she hears the whisper of tea filling the waiting cups, underlined by the quiet swish of silks. Karma carefully returns the pot to its proper spot in the center of the arrangement, Janna still sifting through the troubles that bind her to her wayward city.
"You know what's really eating at me," she decides at last, "is this mad idea Singed keeps trying to sell. He went to outstanding efforts to recruit me during the conference, trying to convince me that he has Zaun's best interests at heart. But he literally wouldn't even hear any of the personal and environmental objections I have towards the project."
Janna pulls in a deep breath, attempting to stem the angry pulse that's rising at her temples. She tugs off the glasses and tosses them onto the tea table – the headache persists whether she wears them or not – and passes a hand over her face.
"Other than that, it's business as usual over there. And business stinks." She waves her hand as if to fan away the noxious odors brought to mind by rubbing elbows with mad scientists. Her smile is small and wry. "I'm sorry, I know better than to mix business with pleasure. It's not important."
Karma makes a chiding sound against her teeth, holding out a small porcelain tea cup to her guest. Steam rises from below the rim, as gentle as Karma's words. "I believe your involvement in any matter defines it as important business."
And of course she doesn't need to hear Karma say it, but the words bring a warmth to Janna's chest all the same. Just like that, the heavy air that's been suffocating her since Zaun dissipates as quickly as a summer storm. And isn't that the reason she visits?
She accepts the offered cup with a small word of thanks, taking note of the amber liquid for the first time. "Oh," Janna hums, "black tea, is it?"
Karma nods, a smile playing at her lips, its meaning yet a mystery. "The blend is called Grey Lady," she explains, "The leaves have been infused with oils from a citrus that is found in the deepest of Ionian mountains. The recipe is a carefully guarded secret, handed down through the generations only under the cover of a blood moon."
Janna squints into the shallow cup in her hands. "Of course, and the trees only fruit once every nine hundred years?"
There's laughter trapped in Karma's eyes. "I see you've heard of it." She motions for Janna to go ahead. "Please tell me how it suits your tastes. In my experience it seems to be rather preferred by international visitors; the Sheriff is especially fond. This is a sampling from what I intend to gift her after our next match."
Intrigued, Janna takes a dainty sip and is immediately surprised at the bright flavor. Distinctly different from the usual tea Karma serves (a pale and not-quite bitter brew), the blend does have an easy appeal, sure to please even finicky foreign palates. "It's sweet," she remarks, carefully fitting words to the taste, "and bold. I like it." When she takes another sip, a thought occurs to her. She smiles into her cup, "I can also see why it suits the tastes of the Sheriff."
Karma shares her smile, pleased that her guest has finally caught on to the inside joke. Now that the tea has Janna's approval, she lifts her own cup. "She's a vigilant one, our Caitlyn. Even so, I'm happy she has something sweet and bold to bolster her through her trying hours."
Now when she drains her tea cup, Janna has a fleeting mental image to match the tea's lively flavor – something like a riotous pink mane punctuated by a cocky grin for days. She is so enamored with the comparison that she smiles into the sky for a long moment. How long has it been since she's paid a visit to those two? Too long, she thinks. Where does the time go.
Soon a dark hand plucks the empty cup from her grasp, only to return it in the space of a moment, full once more. "Mm," Janna inclines her head in appreciation, feeling the warmth bleed through the porcelain. She watches Karma quietly refill her own cup, and then asks, "And you, Enlightened One? How does this blend suit your esteemed tastes?"
The sparkle is back, the knowing smile hidden in the tea cup. Karma takes a long sip from her tea instead of answering, and Janna follows suit. She can be patient. Janna's grin only grows as Karma slides her a sidelong look. "You mean how do I feel towards a certain blend of sweet and bold?"
"Oh-so bold," Janna confirms, setting her tea cup aside in order to take down her hair. Between the pinch of the clip and the pinch of the pencil skirt, she's surprised she's survived this long. "Not so sure about the sweet part." She leans back into her casual lounge and turns just in time to catch Karma's reaction.
There's a hunger in Karma's eyes – just a flash, brief as lightning – but Janna always knows where and when to look. It stirs a warmth in her that has nothing to do with the breeze or the tea, a thrumming expectation. Patience, Janna, she reminds herself.
But the playful light quickly hardens in Karma's eyes, her smile drawn up in a firm line. Janna sits up once more, suddenly compelled to match the strict posture of her host. The warmth though, the warmth is still there, ready to hear whatever Karma has to say.
When Karma speaks, her words carry a weight that catches Janna off guard. "The Grey Lady is too bold for me to consider it an everyday tea," Karma admits. "I have . . . committed myself to the tea of my people. The one that some find simple or tough to swallow." Janna finds herself nodding in agreement, seeing in her mind's eye the tireless rotation of twin dragons.
"Of course, we both understand that the Lady's time is better spent abroad, where she is appreciated by many. Many souls who are made better for the meeting." There's no recrimination in Karma's tone, only something closer to pride. She fixes Janna with a steady gaze until the mage dips her head in recognition. Quietly, Karma slips her hand across the table to lay it atop Janna's. "As for its sweetness . . . ."
Karma's smile softens, the slow break of a storm right at the golden hour. "The time spent apart does well to increase the sweetness of reunion. A day, an evening, an hour spent at your side means more to me than I can say."
Janna digs her teeth into her lip, turning away to the cultured symmetry of the garden. As she looks, feeling her chest tighten in a way it never does, she just catches the glitter of a green tail swishing out of sight, the reflection rock succumbing to dusk's shadow.
"You're gonna make a girl blush," she murmurs, hearing the warmth in her own voice betray her. The hand on hers squeezes gently, then pulls away. In its absence the once-warm breeze nips at her skin, chilled by the full onset of evening.
"It takes more than a few words to achieve that, child, I should know," Karma laughs as she stands. Janna peeks up at her host as she moves to stand before her, hands held out to help Janna to her feet. "Now up with you, let's get you out of those preposterous clothes and into something more your style."
Janna chuckles as she lifts her arms and places her hands in Karma's, her heart light. With a heave she's brought swiftly up to Karma's level, though it takes a conscious effort on her part to not simply float upwards and accidentally knock the other woman off her feet. Now standing, she keeps a hold of one hand as they begin to stroll down the veranda.
"You know what would be nice," Janna hums, a too-innocent note to her voice that has Karma visibly pricking her ears, "A nice, long, hot bath. I always feel like I need to scrub for days until the last of Zaun comes off."
She looks down to her host, just a casual glance, and finds herself suddenly out of breath. The hunger has found its way back into Karma's eyes, raw and unfettered and immediate. It's something Janna never expects, this sudden but very welcome display that she saves for Janna alone.
"The water's been hot and ready since the minute I heard you'd be coming in," Karma says, part purr and part growl. "What did you think I meant by something your style?"
Janna's had her fill of waiting. Effortlessly she lifts Karma off her feet, the two of them becoming airborne in the time it takes to think it. Karma clutches tight with an exhilarated laugh, and Janna fairly thrums with satisfaction. How good it is to be home.