[The fact that he isn’t mocked, or even playfully teased, about the drink is enough to earn D a small amount of approval from Xiao. He waits, watching the man as D studies the crowds. The too pale skin should burden the stranger with a sickly appearance, yet it somehow does not. Still, it does not look natural to Xiao—who finds himself reminded of plague victims and corrupted mortals from home. There’s no reason to read too much into it yet, however; many of the people in this world bear skin tones that Xiao has never seen before. If only his powers were functioning as they should. Maybe then he’d know if…

D speaks. Xiao listens.]

…I too wish to return to where I came, [he admits after a moment.] I make no claim at divinity; it wouldn’t be right for me to decide the fate of my world, reborn.

[Zenith seems to be in the lead, though. That’s concerning. Brows furrowing, he asks the obvious question.]

How many Oracles are there? [A beat, then, voice lowering:] And is there a pattern to their appearances beyond timing?