Carefully setting the parted section in his hand to the side, Ochazuke nod to Zaofan as he spored over each scroll one-by-one, falling silent even as his comrade voiced the words of the dream made tangible in the ancient paper scrolls he held now. The Crane he knew, the Tiger and Turtle he was intimately familiar with, and the intertwined roots of the Snake and Dragon he'd begun to decipher through happenstance as of late. Zxu'ro's last letter, however, gave him pause, as if somebody thousands of years old had affixed his gaze far ahead to the future to this moment. Ochazuke did not want to admit it, but he could not help but turn his examination inward before speaking it.
"A declaration of providence, perhaps? Hmm."
He had left the Crane; Kenshiko had reappeared; the Turtle Monks had their hermitage fallen beneath the waves; the Snake fell to legend, perhaps eaten by the Mad Majin.
But the Dragon, that was something that hung over the rest, auspicious in its part in all this. They'd borne witness to it on the Lookout, the shift of fate wrought by Tiamat, but even now they followed Samson Balon in reawakening the thing that was lost and buried.
His reading concluded, poring over the ancient manuscripts from end-to-end, he exchanged a long look with Zaofan and Samson.
"Only Zxu'ro would have the answer, it seems," he said, "but where to meet a man across a span of two thousand years?"