Scene: The royal quarters of the Kaveri. A faint river breeze stirs the blue wool, carrying a whiff of sandalwood.
Taruni enters, pauses for a silent moment. Her eyes light up. Her friend, Yamindri, sits nearby, frowning at a tangled, lumpy mess of sky-blue wool in her lap — a knitting needle held like an unfamiliar weapon.
Taruni: I've been looking for you. The quartermaster said you took all that northern wool. I was curious—
(She steps closer—then stops, staring.)
Taruni: Currents preserve us—what is that?
(Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded)
If that's a fishing net, you've failed spectacularly. The holes are all wrong. Or—wait—maybe is this the River Guard's new weapon?
Yami yelps, trying to hide the mess behind her back.
Yami: Oh, for—! It's nothing! I... I was just... keeping my hands busy. Thinking.
A loose sky-blue strand slips free, sliding over her shoulder and dangling like a limp, unraveling ribbon.
Taruni tilts her head, eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.
Taruni (Advancing, scoffing):
Thinking. Hm?
Let me see.
(She strides forward and deftly plucks the scarf from Yami's hands.)
Yami, this is genius. A masterpiece of tactical innovation. Look at that... unique constriction in the middle. Perfect for... single-handedly choking an enemy sentry.
Yami (strangled): No, It's a—!
Taruni: And those deliberate, uneven lumps? To apply pressure points during close-quarters combat. And the holes! A masterstroke! They provide minimal warmth, with maximum finger holes for knife work. You've outdone yourself. The Council must see this.
Yami snatches it away, clutching the messy wool to her chest.
Yami: It's a muffler. For... the cold. You know—when the wind blows. Winters. That sort of thing.
Taruni (Scoffs):
A muffler?
(After a moment, half-smiling she spoke)
Ah, so you're making a muffler. But why Yami? We live in a delta where frost is a myth. Unless... wait—has the Council assigned you to the Himalayan front? Did they? (She gestures to a carved sandalwood chest.)
Besides... You have a chest full of silks and shawls. You have more winter gear than a mountain bear.
(Taruni's eyes narrow, following the trail of blueberry stains from the basket to Yami's fingers. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face.)
Taruni: And since when are you so fond of blueberries? Trying a new diet? (She leans in, still confused) You're not eating them, are you?
(She plucks a berry from the basket, rolling it between her fingers thoughtfully.)
— Or you're using them as dye.
Yami's cheeks flush a deep, telling crimson, almost matching the red strands in the wool. She put her gaze down to the scarf.
Yami (softly muttering): It's for someone special.
Taruni (teasing): "Someone." I see... sure, I can feel the warmth from here... does "this someone" know their muffler can also serve as a modern art piece?
Yami doesn't look up, her focus entirely on the wool in her hands Her fingers trembled as she fumbled for the next stitch.
Taruni (Her tone shifts from teasing to genuine, warm amusement.) Oh... Yami.
(Scene ends)