Miko's thoughts are a jumble right now! In no particular order:

1. What in the world just happened?
2. If this is the Celestial Mountain (and it can't not be the Celestial Mountain. it can't.), why does she hurt?
3. What is that smell? Alcohol? Foreign alcohol?
4. Seriously, what in the world just happened?

She reluctantly opens her eyes.

(Note: Miko's icons have been updated to include an edgy red-and-black color scheme. One can pretend they were always drawn that way.)

She's looking up at a sneering Northern-looking man in armor, who is, reciprocally, looking down at her. "Good," he says, not sounding like he means it. "So you're not completely unconscious. You drunks dis..."

He trails off, his contempt fading to background levels. "You're bleeding."

He's right. The dyed leather makes it harder to see on her skin, but she's lying in a small pool of blood. (It doesn't smell right. Paladins get used to the smell of blood; this isn't it.)

For a moment, she seethes. How dare this Northerner accuse her of drunkenness? But—

Her hands go to the place where it hurts: her chest.

(Her more recent memories resolve some more, leaving her thinking that shouldn't the pain be lower? But she can't dwell on that right now. She can… pray. Once she's alone.)

There's a hole there. It's been very competently stitched together, but... there's something beneath the skin, something hard. As her hands touch it, the pain flares.

Speaking of her hands: on each of her wrists, there's a beautifully engraved platinum bangle. They're inscribed with zodiacal circles, and they feel important.

"You haven't died yet," Hulrun notes. "Even with that kind of hole in you. That probably means you'll survive long enough to get to a proper healer, which I'm not... but, here. Cure light wounds."

His hand brushes hers, and fire spreads through her from that point of contact. It's not a lot; maybe seven hit points. Not enough to really mess up her day. Even in the condition she's in.

Gah! Her hands flinch away from her chest wound like a hot stove. Something else to ask the Twelve Gods.

Seeing the inscriptions on the bangles, she feels hope for the first time since… earlier. The Twelve Gods sent her here. Which means that, even though she wants to ask how far she is from Azure City and in what direction, what she needs is to stay put and listen for their guidan

Gah again! This person's Cure spell appears to be broken.

"Thank you," she says. "I can heal myself the rest of the way."

She lays on hands.

Works fine.

(Well... her chest still hurts. But it doesn't feel like a wound, really. And she's not bleeding.)

Hulrun's eyebrows shoot upwards, and he raises a gauntlet to his chest. "You're a paladin? I apologize for my insinuation earlier, your armor confused me... how were you injured?"

"I accept your apology."

The armor is confusing to her as well, honestly! At least it isn't beige and grey anymore. That… that was almost as bad as everything else she lost. And… has regained? Yes, of course. There's no other explanation.

"There was…"

She can't call it an accident. She made her choice deliberately, even if it turned out that she had been mistaken in deciphering the clues sent to her by the Twelve Gods. But anything else feels… also wrong. She reframes:

"A war, in my hometown. I destroyed something valuable to prevent it from falling into enemy hands. The explosion… I was not expecting to survive; the Twelve Gods must have spared me."

She almost asks if he knows what they sent her for, but—maybe he'll come to the correct conclusion and tell her on his own.

Hulrun sucks in a breath. "My sympathies. Some manner of artifact? Could have teleported you, or cast you through the planes... well. You know already you're lucky to be alive, but I'll say that I'm lucky to have another battle-hardened crusader land at my feet. Gods know I need as many as I can get."

… Well, they are Gates. She's pretty sure that there's a difference between the Gates and the spell Gate, and that the gods normally want to stay away from them rather than sending valuable paladins through them, but… it's the best theory she's got.

She doesn't smile at her fellow battle-hardened crusader, but she feels warm regard anyhow. A feeling that… reminds her of how Greenhilt reacted to the dirt farmers. Irritating.

"I'd be happy to lend aid," she says. "What do you need?"

A woman comes into view. Her hair is silver, her ears pointed, the air around her cooler than the summer heatwave-shimmer.

Miko isn't Detecting Evil from her, that much is clear. But she's Detecting something - something overpowering, like staring into the sun. This woman is more than she appears.

"Prelate," the woman says, amused. "Are you trying to recruit this poor lady before she has had a chance to wash the blood off her armor? At the festival? Do I need to put some kind of sign on you?"

The Prelate startles; he hadn't noticed his apparent superior's approach. "Milady, please. I am trying to do what is best for -"

"Hulrun," she says calmly.

He stops.

She turns to Miko. "Young paladin, what is your name?"

For a moment, she's too distracted by… not fear, but awe… at the elf. (If she really is only an elf, going by those speech bubbles.) And then at the demeanor she holds towards Prelate Hulrun. It reminds her of how Shojo used to be.

She inclines her head politely towards the elf.

"Miko Miyazaki, milady," she says, taking a cue from Hulrun.

"Oh, please don't call me that," she laughs. "If Hulrun starts a trend, I don't know what I'll do. I am Terendelev, protector of this city. And I am as glad as my Prelate that you are here, but I think we can set aside the crusade pitch until you've had time to get your feet under you. Why don't you have some fair food, get the blood Prestidigitated off you? In the morning, we can speak of what you can do for us and vice versa; until then, please, enjoy the festival."

Hulrun grumbles quietly. (Not entirely unlike O-Chul.)

Miko is heart-achingly endeared (well, on top of the more physical heartache) to both of these fine people. The Twelve Gods have been… kind.

"All right, Lady Terendelev. If the matter is not urgent I suppose I can wait until morning."

She doesn't particularly want any food, actually. Maybe these bracelets are like Rings of Sustenance? Another kindness from the gods.

"It is no more urgent than it has been for the last hundred years," Terendelev says, in that tone of voice that only someone who has lived through each of those hundred years can affect.

Then she sweeps away.

Hulrun grunts. "Well, you heard her. ...I hope I don't have to tell you not to let your guard down. If the demons come today, they won't care if everyone else is having a lovely time."

And he goes off as well.

… Elves.

She nods.

"I agree. But I'll try not to alarm any innocents before that happens."

(Hopefully Lady Terendelev won't take offense to that if she can still hear them.)

All right, she's on her own now. She does want to clean up, and maybe find out what country they're in and what the festival is for. But first:

She starts walking, looking for someplace she can take a moment to herself and pray.

There's a lot of people in the town square (an alley off which she woke up in), but there are still quiet corners. Places where the crowd doesn't flow, whether because of natural fluid dynamics or because they're specifically set aside for calm and comfort.

There's a tree of the latter sort, some kind of silver-barked deciduous specimen surrounded by flowers, with another elf sitting underneath. This one looks much younger, not even fully grown, and she's covered with dreadful burn scars; her eyes are closed, and she's humming under her breath as her fingers trail through a patch of poppies.

(She's got the same quality as Terendelev, much more faintly; a sort of luminosity, oddly soothing but still setting Miko's teeth a bit on edge.)

… There are a lot of elves in this city. Although… maybe this isn't a young elf. Miko attempts a Will save against the mysterious effect. And…

Detect Evil?

Nada.

Not "nada" as in "the elf detects non-Evil", though.

"Nada" as in "she abruptly comes to the realization that the sensory modality she's been trying to access has been on since she woke up, and instead of Detecting Evil, it's been Detecting this, which is, to reiterate, definitely not Evil."