Amaya is passing by, waving her fan slowly, her hair has been pulled up into a Maiden's Tail, but sweat still dampens the nape of her neck. The kimono was light, summer silk, but still she missed the thin, flowing desert garments that would have been deemed completely unsuitable by the Rokugani natives, but were notably more comfortable.
She noticed the divination booth, and drifts closer, curious. She studies the Clan mon the woman wears, but
doesn't recognise it.