Regrettably, the average lout might not be too able to explain why Lianlian is here, though they alcohol might turn them to more philosophical ponderings of why the world is here, at large.

Over a cup of unidentified, but soon deeply regretted brew, they will boisterously share the legend of Anurr, taking turns in hailing his virtues. The inking will continue throughout, somehow not lessening their cheer — neither will Xie Lian's persistence that peace might end what years of conflict could not bring to conclusion.

"There is no common ground to be found with dead who aren't of your people," one man will mutter, spitting on hard floor. It is unclear if he has understood he resides within the approximation of a household that does not require human watering.

Xie Lian will be cordially invited to sit with him — and, should he accept, to prepare their paint pigments, or even partake of a tattoo himself.