Above, two other people watched Tatsu. They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t really like each other, so that was just fine. The fact they were doing this at the same time was annoying enough as it was.
“I hear the little girl is Isha’s,” said the woman donned from head to toe in cloth. It was dark blues and black. It bound her up so well you couldn’t see much of a shape other than to claim humanoid. Her voice was muffled by the fabric which both clung and hung freely in front of her face. Maybe if one was lucky, they might see her eyes between that and what hung down from her forehead.
Perhaps that was unlucky.
The other person standing with her was an older woman, silver hair brought to a bun at the nape of her neck. Her cloak was inconspicuous, hiding her body which wasn’t as frail as one might think for her nondescript aged age. She sipped at her tea, looking down below.
“Isha’s, huh?” She watched Tatsu move off the field. “Does she know that?”
The obscured woman leaned further over the railing, staring down at the girl below. What she was looking at was Tatsu’s face, her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Sure about that? Try again.”