Scene #7125: Return to a Mansion's Shrine

Owner	Pose
Tamamo	Tamamo has, once more, invited Lilian to her room. The initial impression is much like the last. The door is surrounded by a mass of charms, their placement seemingly haphazard, but the effect a strong compulsion toward respecting that herein stands a boundary between worlds. It's not quite like a toadstool ring, and it's not just a standing torii gate, the effect similar but distinct. It's not a barrier, either, though perhaps that's because Lilian was invited. The door opens easily. As before, the paper screens block off view of much of what should be a large room, flowing lines of ink across the paper vaguely evocative of a pastoral scene, most likely overlooking a river valley. The air is a touch warm, regardless of the weather outside, but not stuffy. It could stand to be a little less dry, but the bonsai forest is doing well. It's not unlike some hobbyist's model in its detail, but for that every twig and leaf is alive, and doing so well as to begun blooming, the size of the blossoms highlighting the discrepancy of scale. Fires like a will-o'-wisp float lazily in the air, providing just enough illumination so one's eyes wouldn't ache to be looking directly at Tamamo no Mae, sitting there on a cloth-covered dais, the fur of her tails and ears not just glowing, but the shape flickering at the edge of vision, as if the mind can't determine whether they're solid or made of steady flames. They're not quite so bright as to wholly distract from Tamamo's eyes, the outline of narrow as she smiles. As before, tea is prepared. Unlike before, she asks no questions of Fate. Instead, the obvious subject of her invitation is the parcel that sits by her. A gift, her invitation has mentioned. It's much too large to be a box of jewelry, not long enough to be a sword, and too rounded-soft to be most things, though that could be simply from packing it with something like paper instead of cardboard.
Lilian Rook	It's a rare occasion that Lilian enters this room. Or the reverse. It's just not a sort of home environment that entails that kind of thing. Even moreso, the guest room that Lilian had originally given Tamamo on a short basis, though is now glad to let her keep it indefinitely rather than finding some Paladins sponsored housing, is a certain sort of intimidating in its own right. Well, perhaps grandiose. Demanding more respect than a wooden door, even locked. It's almost a formal occasion to go past that boundary. Having heard the call, Lilian takes a little time to prepare herself. The last time had been to talk about some complicated and heavy subjects that were obviously of great importance to Tamamo. Dressed from some semi-important excursion of some sort, like the ubiquitous lunch or dinner meeting for 'networking's' sake, feeling she's as ready as she's going to be, Lilian takes a deep breath and crosses over. She could swear that the inside is somehow even more exotic than before. More 'mystical'. She tries counting the number of floating foxfires along the short way, reexamining the paper screens, glancing to the well advanced bonsai. When her eyes fall on Tamamo, though, her gait slows almost to the point of a hitch for several steps, finally kneeling down in that sort of uncomfortable way that the kitsune seems manage effortlessly, unable to take her eyes off of her. "Wow." is all she says for a moment, a smile flickering on and then off her face. "Is this like that glow at night? Something you're not suppressing? That's . . . impressive, to say the least. And a sort of beautiful. I suppose you really weren't exaggerating when you were laying down the difference between an Earth kitsune and a bunrei kind." She waits a moment. Then two. She glances down to the package, then back up, hands in her lap. "No questions? No heavy subjects on mysticism?" she asks, an odd mixture of disappointment and hopefulness apparent in her voice. ". . . Is this the thing you've been working on all this time?"
Tamamo	Tamamo gives a questioning, "Hm?" with a tilt of her head, an ear flicking, before she straightens with an "Ah," and responds, "you surmise correctly. I have recently put forth some effort that did call upon my true nature, and so, those signs remain. It is not quite like fatigue, but more as if... allowing one's heart to calm after exertion. It is most comfortable to allow such to occur gradually, no?" She takes up the parcel, without moving from her seated posture, "Please approach, and accept this. No, no questions upon mysticism will be necessary tonight. I should instead be most glad to hear your own thoughts upon this work. It is not often I may practice such things, and so I must discover through experience, rather than peer into the future for answers. I should be further gladdened upon you finding some use in such gifts."
Lilian Rook	"That makes sense as an analogy." Lilian decides right away. "But trying to imagine what made you exert yourself so, mmh, that's interesting. I've seen you do plenty of very impressive things before. It's hard to conceptualize." Granted, the previous examples had all been one-offs, but that's only something Lilian will theorize about, rather than put forward. "Well now you've gone and got me excited~ Because of that, but also because nobody ever gets me gifts." Casually dropping that one, Lilian gets up and takes the gift as offered, not really having the whole context for polite gift refusal, and too excited to see it regardless. Hesitating over the parcel as if loathe to cut into a perfectly elaborate cake, it takes her a few seconds to finally get her fingers into the wrapping and begin peeling it away, bit by bit.
Tamamo	The parcel is wrapped in paper, though it's not commercial wrapping paper, whatever it is. There's no tape, just folding. Something is unevenly packed inside. Opening the package reveals a number of things, several of them large pieces of cloth, but folded so tightly that it's difficult to immediately discern their shape, with cloth straps coming together in a wide, X-shaped knot to hold it all, temporarily, together. Not held against those is a smaller box, this one jewelry-sized, giving no noise when jostled only for the paper lining within it. It does contain, as one might expect, several pieces of jewelry, but there's hardly even the usual felt padding inside, the space having instead been necessary for containing not just earrings, but rings, filigree and thin chains, the total length on the tighter side, and some small enough that they might only fit comfortably around one's wrist. One and all are made of gold, save some of the fittings, most of it strangely warm, and hard for its weight and apparent purity. The flower designs may look familiar, from the work of that shop in Yamato, with lilies chosen most prominently. Those flowers, specifically, have had their petals rendered in white gold, strongly colored by the alloying, though the peonies were were kept as-is, identifiable by their shape rather than mix in rose gold as another color. Not everything mentioned on that shopping trip is included here, though there's nearly too much to wear at once as it is, depending on how one feels about stacking. The Yamato Urban Center-made pieces use easily idenitifable gems, but some are more foreign. The earrings are actually mismatched in color, both using that self-warming gold in their main body, fitted with jade, but one is deep like the ocean's depths, and the other clear like an alpine sky. Though the atmosphere of this room-turned-shrine is so suffused with the mystical that everything appears more than it is, this pair is perhaps the most discernibly, obviously magical, if only while the two earrings are held at the same time.
Lilian Rook	Lilian has never been one for overdramatic looks, pronouncements, or exclamations. The sort of trite reaction of unremarkable housewives to domestic remodeling on reality television is something she looks down on with sincere derision. The art of accepting things, whether good or bad, politely, professionally, with confidence and without concern or seeming impassioned, is one that one does well to learn and master early in these circles. Even if something does genuinely catch her by surprise, she has those rehearsed responses, and all the time in the world to feel calm about it. But she doesn't feel the need to exercise it. Not here, in this room, with this person. Opening up a present like none she's ever received, including both in the fact she'd seen little bits and pieces come together, and especially to the point of being elaborately and professionally hand made, Lilian gasps quietly, and then her breath catches in her throat. "Oh my god" is barely a murmur, at both the sheer quantity and the breathtaking craftsmanship of what was packed into that singular parcel. She sorts through the jewelry so delicately it's as if she expects it's made of sugar glass, instead of the incredibly rare and robust material it is. The slightly inane statement of 'it's warm' that Tamamo no doubt knows slips out, and then she begins the process of tracking down all the flowers that Tamamo had bought. Immediately sensing something special about the two jade earrings, Lilian carefully replaces her own with them right away, sorting out the box on the parcel paper just to see it all laid out. Considerably curious about the clothes though, she picks them up in the crook of her arm so she can unfold them without half-draping them on the floor (as clean as it no doubt is). "I'm amazed you found the time to do all of this . . . it's just . . . gorgeous."
Tamamo	Tamamo does seem quietly pleased with Lilian's reactions thus far, whether for the surprise and implicit evaluation, or because Lilian is being so familiar as to let those reactions show. She watches with keen interest, from her seated position, as the young woman goes through her gifts. A careful search will find that the forget-me-nots and sunflowers were included--together, in fact, a bracelet-sized chain connecting forward to finger-rings for each. Tamamo does not explain any symbolism for that pairing right away. Most, still, use the white lilies, followed by the untinted peonies. The clothing has to be untied and unfolded to discern its true form, and turns out to be, as one might expect of Tamamo, a Japanese-style outfit. At least, very close to one, in that the outfit she was summoned in was very close to a shrine maiden's outfit. In fact, this is very definitely some kind of shrine maiden outfit, granted the more modern additions like 'a skirt,' 'thigh highs,' attaching at the shoulders with criss-crossing threads instead of properly attached sleeves, and including the kind of material elements on the underlayer Lilian would be familiar with from her own combat uniform, as if merging some of the latter's defensive function with the full aesthetic of a fantastical young Shinto priestess. White and red are the principle colors, of course. The whole thing is smooth, soft, lighter than maybe should be possible, and using multiple kinds of silk, should one look very closely, and be able to recognize that provided by a jorogumo versus that exported by the Gerudo. The former, at least, can be expected to live up to the famed strength-per-thickness of spider-silk in general, youkai in particular, while the latter is remarkably breathable. Gold-colored thread that might actually be very thin threads of gold embroider several places, though these are positioned as if they were meant to be hidden, placed around places the clothing folds against itself, where the body wouldn't need to flex the small sections made stiffer with the metallic additions, each spelling out something in tiny, archaic characters, each one distinct from the rest, should one actually attempt to match the sentences against each other. These don't feel immediately magical so much as 'potentially.' Tamamo's smile doesn't show any teeth. Her lips are certainly closed, and not even her jaw moves. Nevertheless, Lilian hears her voice, somewhere between a conversational tone close by her side and a whisper in her ear. "It is not so unusual to find jade of many colors, but here I found a 'black jade' that was used for communicating with gods and demons and thought, 'would it then be used to call upon myself?' And this so-called blue jade, near-white though it is, found use in those artifacts that sense thoughts. 'Might it not hear thoughts, and make them known?' thought I to myself. And so I fit them within gold purified and blessed by the Sun, and so made an artifact 'to call upon me.' We have used other such devices, but this is more... personal than those modern contrivances, no?"
Lilian Rook	Lilian isn't nearly so ethnocentric as to not know a shrine maiden outfit when she sees one, even if only just from popular media. From there however, it's just a litany of surprises, one after the next. The outfit is so intricate as to bear many examinations over, resulting in Lilian briefly losing her place in the effort of looking it over enough times to appreciate it fully. While she'd never quite considered herself the zettai ryouiki type of girl, Lilian can't help but laugh a little as she holds the thigh highs to herself below the skirt, at "How'd you get these perfect sizes? That's actually very flattering~" Likewise, she examines the shoulders against her own, tracing her finger over where the partially detached sleeves would bare skin. Pinching the fabric between her fingers and rubbing it between, she adds "Oh wow. It's so light. Almost sort of breezy. But . . ." she pulls on it twice experimentally "Really tough, actually. No wonder you were trotting all over for these materials." The inner layer doesn't go without appreciation. The suit material at its most basic level is pricey but not exotic, only available to Enlightened types, of which Tamamo certainly fits a high class bill. Likewise, the 'circuits' of the gold/salt/mercury mixture are novel in the sense of a seamstress doing them, rather than a computerized printer, earning a surprising, almost giddy little sound at the realization. Even then, she's up to fingering the gold inscriptions, checking all over for the places she can find them. "Are these . . . do these store a charge? That's an incredible idea. I had assumed you were making something pretty of course, but this is all so . . . thoughtful!" And then there's the voice in her ears, from the yin and yang of earrings, water and air, sea and sky. In her growing fashion of not bothering to veil her feelings in upper class style, Lilian startles mildly in expression, raising her fingers most of the way up to an ear, then trying to think through them herself. 'It . . . it really is. The style, the feeling --the thought behind it-- I love it. I'd say something about them probably being far more durable, but I wouldn't let these get damaged for the world.' At that point, she can't really contain it any longer. Even if it's inappropriate to do so, given the difference of seating and stature the room is meant to convey, Lilian takes four steps forward and throws her arms around Tamamo, squeezing in an appreciative way that is clearly completely and totally unpracticed; not only unrehearsed, but rough around the edges in a way that can only come from having seen someone do it before and being partly guided by emotion. "Thank you! This is the best present I've ever received! I can't even imagine how much work you put into this. Every little detail . . . it's fantastic. Now I still feel like I'm never going to be able to catch up to all the attention you've been showering me with. I'm probably spoiled now~!"
Tamamo	The clothing fits perfectly, with no explanation of just how Tamamo did get Lilian's exact measurements. ------------------------------------ The space beyond one of the paper screens is better for sitting down face-to-face. If the initial entry area were a throne room, this is a meeting room, if arranged in cozy miniature by again sectioning off the original guest room. There is a nonzero chance that the total dimensions of the space would change if it were desanctified of its shrine-like atmosphere, but one would have to actually see past each divider to be sure. This area has mats at the same level, surrounding a space for tea to be poured from the present clay pot into a pair of cups. The green tea is, so Tamamo claims, good for one's health, though this is merely pleasant rather than magical. Tamamo seems to be in excellent health, though her glow has faded to near-human levels, becoming more figurative than literal with her divinity not so clearly displayed as when Lilian had, that bit earlier, walked in. The space seems suited for a semi-formal meeting, but for the moment, Tamamo is more contented by sitting right next to Lilian, rather than across from her. This poses no issue with the pouring of tea. It does leave less room for her to work on her bonsai, the round pots nearby with their miniature landscapes and some large-handled clippers indicating at least one hobby that's been keeping her busy, and suggesting the custom-made nature of the taller works seated about the raised dais. "Lilies," Tamamo begins, "are a symbol of purity, as you know." She touches the jewelry, tracing the design. "That was my first aim in granting you a gift. Something that might preserve you, even should I become unable to reach you in the moment. A guard against corruption of the body, the mind, and the soul. A reassertment of the purity of the self against disease and malady. I have committed some... most potent, if portable, magics for this purpose, that they may act of their own accord, in your moment of need." That leaves much else still unexplained, and she goes on, tracing over what seems to merely be cloth, but on the inside, where Lilian looks, she'll find those tightly written characters woven into stiffer stretches and near seams, forming what are most definitely magical circuits of some kind, but currently empty. "These are here to draw in enchantments from elsewhere, to make the clothing at once part of your other gifts. However..." She moves on to the peonies, together the two most prominent flowers. "While these are symbols of bravery, bedeckings of warriors, there is a piece of the puzzle that is missing. If completed, one would be granted blessings and powers as befitting the whole, the good fortune of artfully arranged Fates, and protection against the night, banishing it with the Sun's light. This final piece is only 'an agreement,' but one that may only be made in full knowledge, and so it cannot be merely 'a gift.'"
Lilian Rook	Lilian is in a good mood. An unbelievably good mood. The best she's been in ages, unrelated to one stemming from satisfaction at some large undertaking completed. She even overstepped the timing on something she'd planned to do and shuffled it ahead, which almost never ever happens. To be here. To extend the time she can feel this way as much as possible. Of course she's put plenty of the gift getup on in the intervening time she's 'wasted'; it'd be ridiculous to save it forever after she'd gotten so excited, and the first thing you do when getting fancy clothes as a present is go off and try them on for a little twirl or five, or an outing. The lilies do seem to have been her favourite, followed by the peonies, using a sidelock clip and more substantial jeweled comb for a less western updo, gravitating to them naturally, as well as the earrings. Completely relaxed, a great deal of green tea no doubt having helped, she hangs on Tamamo's full explanation, glad to hear it after so much anticipation. She lacks even the 'tension' to properly giggle, kept to a sort of barely audible chest fluctuation at that point. "You just keep one upping how thoughtful I try penning this whole thing as. At some point, I'm going to have to imply you're worried about me~ But should I just take it to mean I'm your favourite 'mortal' now~?" She glances down to Tamamo's fingers highlighting the chosen characters. "That's interesting. I had meant to ask more about those. I'd expected they were some sort of blessing in their own right, but . . ." "Mm, what sort of agreement are you talking about? I suppose this has to do with the, well, eastern equivalent of 'sacred geometry' we were talking about before, right?"
Tamamo	"Oh, yes," Tamamo says, easily enough, "for wherever could one find a mortal for whom I cared more deeply? Or do you mean to suggest," she tilts her head, leaning onto Lilian's side to a degree just over the line of publicly acceptable decorum, and glances sidelong with hints of a smile through the concerned look, "that you are too far from 'mortal' to need such worry?" Nevertheless, her explanation continues. She touches the one item with forget-me-nots connected over to a sunflower, including a thin chain between them. "Of these flowers, there are words for them in the East, but they are not of the East, and so the names are translations of such as you might know them. The first part of this one's name is written 'the direction of the Sun,' or as one might say, 'the day-turning flower.' The Sun does, of course, shine over lands from one compass point to another... but place those details aside, and consider its place only within a single language. You can guess the first reason I should choose such a symbol, no?" She traces over the chain, thinking back. "'Sacred Geometries,' as you say. If it is not agreed upon, it remains a symbolic power. It is agreed upon because its power is tangible, or else, its power takes form because of the agreement. Is a sight created by one's eyes, or by that which is seen?" After getting increasingly esoteric, she returns with the second name, "Forget-me-not. The one flower refers to the Radiant One, and the other, a promise. The one, a fire, both a true fire, and one of passion, growing to turn its face toward that light. And the other... stands for 'true love.'" Even Tamamo seems--not quite 'embarrassed,' not quite 'apprehensive,' but as much as she leans against Lilian, steaming nearly-empty tea before her, having spent all this time in satisfied contentment together, still moved to some emotional concern, a point of uncharacteristic uncertainty. There's always a chance that the future seen will not come to pass. There's always a chance that something unforeseen will tarnish a tale. No matter how sure, there's always something too important to consider without imagining the worse but-what-if. "This last 'agreement' is one that binds the wearer, acting as, shall we say, the shrine maiden of a Sun goddess, to that goddess, herself, and so to act on her behalf. Only then could the blessings, protections, and powers to destroy her enemies be so granted to another. Such a thing cannot be given freely. It would still protect one from curses and illness, but these other items would function only if I asked, of you, a price, written within the magic of the enchantments themselves. I did think upon this matter as I worked my craft, and came to this." Tamamo's voice takes on an unusual tone, not 'dramatic,' so much as 'speaking on the matter of import,' and clearly enunciated to a fine degree. "Would you vow to serve no divinity but myself and to keep your word to me always? As Tamamo no Mae, I offer this to Lilian Rook, a perpetual blessing should a vow be kept and, in proportion, a curse should it be broken." At some point, Tamamo had clasped Lilian's hand, and locked eyes. There's nothing of that earlier, unconscious manifestation of divinity in the form of a warm compulsion to trust and be drawn to her just from her touch. From her earlier words, it's safe to guess that she's consciously suppressing that particular talent, making herself appear closer to mundane, if only so far as an otherworldly, divine beauty can be.
Lilian Rook	Though it might be a little sappy and saccharine to say so --certainly to the point that Lilian wouldn't in public-- the setting affords her enough privacy and confidence to let that particular guard down, and for Lilian to laugh immediately at the comparative obviousness of the other two flowers. "That cross-language literalism. I love it~ It's almost strange to say it though; of course I wouldn't put you out of my mind. I doubt I really could even if I wanted to." The words 'true love', though. Those are heavy. Those are words Lilian has heard plenty, but couldn't possibly understand what they mean. Not intuitively, at least. But . . . "That's something you're looking for, right? Or rather, hoping to understand. The Question. Is that something like a wish, then? Committing it to paper, so that it's eventually drawn towards you. Or in this cause, beautiful jewelry?" But the last part is the heaviest. It's the one where the warmly contented smile slowly slides off of Lilian's face. She looks into Tamamo's eyes, and the glow is gone. She can tell what that means straight away. She doesn't remove herself from Tamamo's contact, but it's clear that she couldn't possibly, in any universe, reply to something so easily. "Sixth Code." she begins hesitantly, with the feeling that she's leading up to something. "'Power bled for is powered earned. Power bargained for is not.' That's how it's supposed to go, but . . . I think just this one time, it's not about power. If you just asked me that as a promise, of course I'd say yes. Why would I want to serve some god? Why would I lie to you? Or go against my own word? But . . ." Thoughts of the jorogumo flash through her mind. That walk back. That moment she had forced herself to suppress something when confronted with yet another side of Tamamo no Mae. "Well, you can understand if I'm a little intimidated by a curse, right? Especially after you described that . . . last one. It . . . feels a little weird, having a gun like that held to my head. Less sincere? Or maybe it's just a bit frightening. Not that I'd expect you wouldn't be angry if I broke my word, so . . . what . . . kind of curse?"
Tamamo	"Oh, my Lilian," Tamamo says, still saying it like that. 'My' Lilian, and not as if she were gaining her, or even bargaining for her, but because it had, entirely before this conversation, been established as such. As if she wished to offer reassurances, but the issue at hand was an unavoidable circumstance. "No, as you say, it is not a question of power. No plot of mine hinges upon your answer. 'A price must be paid,' but it is not to my profit." She looks about to go on, but, "Ah, how to explain such mystic matters, when your line eschews such techniques in entirety?" She shakes her head, pained, then latches upon the much easier question. "'In proportion' to its blessing, a balance of ill fortune following fair. A karmic retribution I should expect to never be addressed, but of which, warning is requisite. The blessed find that Fate's threads work in their favor, and the cursed struggle against the opposing tangle. The one finds wells of energy as they are driven to great deeds, and the other suffers despondency. Neither is truly permanent, for so long as one continues to walk forward, another section of the tapestry of their Fate shall be encountered." That sounds less bad. She makes it sound not so bad, at least, seeming less concerned than before. And it's not anything that would end in someone exploding. Still, "I would not have you deny yourself, even to the benefit of my Question." She says it like a knight of ten or fifteen centuries ago might speak of their Quest. "And it is, though not in the manner you might think, perhaps. My wish...? Yes, to speak far, far too plainly, my wish is not for I to bind you to myself, but for you to bind yourself to me." At that, she does look embarrassed, whether for having been unable to couch that in something more indirect and flowery, or some other reason.
Lilian Rook	Obviously, Lilian hadn't really expected to hear another horrible curse of death, but as Tamamo explains it, she does visibly ease. She lets her breath out a bit at a time, allowing her posture to slacken and lean against Tamamo slightly once more. "Regardless, that's reassuring." she admits, again, not trying to keep many of her thoughts to herself like usual. "It's not as if I anticipated hearing something truly horrible, but saying the words helps." "So, the mechanics of fate, hm?" Lilian, after saying so out loud, stops for quite a while to contemplate it. Think on it. Perhaps, actually, genuflect. "We did speak on that before. I remember. As similar as it is though, it's not my purview by far. Of course I'll take your word for it." Finally, a smile, even if a small one, returns at the thought of the Question, the verbal capitalized emphasis understood right away. Lilian turns to Tamamo, as much as the seating arrangements make able. She lays her hand on top of her partner's, letting her fingers fall between hers. "Then of course that's a promise I'm prepared to make. I don't feel any more reservations about it. If it puts your mind at ease, and you'd think it'd keep us together, then of course~! I can't think of any reason in the world I'd want to go some other way."
Tamamo	Tamamo warms, that rigid control beginning to relax, the mundane again beginning to be suffused with the divine. The purposeful suppression lifts, however much because it's no longer needed, or because she's distracted in the moment. "And so we promise. For truth, faith, and faithfulness, we shall see the blessings of fortune. And as you bind your fate to myself, so shall my I be likewise bound to you." Tracing the connected rings and the flowery symbols, beginning with the sunflower, Tamamo says, "I shall so enjoy seeing how you grow from here on. Oh, but for all that your youth attracts my interest, be sure that I do understand you a woman grown. I mean only that your potential holds greater mystery than my own." Even if Tamamo is the only one who would regard her own growth as lacking in mystery. Her age is arguable, yet likely unwise to argue. 'Agreeing' seems to have been enough to actually activate the magic, in a way that's almost immediately obvious. The exact mechanism is hard to trace, even for someone magically attuned, if not subject to specific skills, but the fact that the magic is doing 'something' is clear. It moves through the outfit through the inlaid characters, forming enclosing circuits. It charges the peony jewelry, giving a sense of energy that yet lacks direction. There is a degree of intuitiveness to some of it, like realizing one had an extra group of muscles all along, unused but capable. "Fate," Tamamo says, "bears many opposing views. I speak of threads that weave, tie, and bind, in a tapestry that continues as long as time. The thread of one life winds around another's, but may yet leave it." Lacing fingers to Lilian's, Tamamo gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "Lives move according to will, but wills do oppose. To touch upon Fate with one's own hands is not so different from enacting that same will, but upon the world that is yet to be, to reach out and pull the threads together, or else, to drive them apart." Her explanation ends with, "May your Fate be as you will it."
Lilian Rook	Of course Lilian is attuned to the flow of magical energy, or certainly enough to recognize the activation of a spell, as esoteric as it is for her not to have seen or felt any particular lead-up. No focus, nor ritual, nor anything of the sort, where Tamamo had even been expressly suppresing the signs of her power. She looks down at the elaborate outfit, hands hovering an inch above the fabric, making some sort of softly unintelligible sound at the workings of it, then pinching and feeling it once the process is finished, then lightly fingering the jeweled flowers. "Wow. Just a verbal agreement? That's . . . impressive. I can't quite figure it all out." Lilian admits in hushed tones. "You really did put a lot of work into this. This has to be the third time I've felt a little humbled in this whole exchange." she says, trying to laugh it off a little, but still positively glowing. "I feel like the less mysterious one right now for certain." "But, mmh, that's all true about fate, I suppose, but at least from here, I can't see something like that happening. I want to figure this out more than almost anything, and I'm always very serious about getting what I want. You'd best count on that~"