Princess and Pariah

by Taialin

Conflict and Consonance

How did this get so complicated? This was just supposed to be a research trip.

I know it's a foregone conclusion—whenever my friends are involved, things always get complicated. I wasn't even sure if Tempest wanted to come, and I'm sure she wasn't anticipating this. But now, belly deep in the swamp of foreign politics, she's not backing down from the challenge in front of her.

That's one thing I've learned about Tempest—among many things—on this trip. She has a profound sense of justice, not a little bit of empathy, and dogged determination to see things through to the end. I always knew she was more than the world destroyer she presented herself as during the Storm King's war, but even while rehabilitating herself in Ponyville with me, I didn't see this side of her. I tried to keep her away from conflict, understandably, but there really is a part of her that comes alive when faced with it.

She's not "happy," per se—or maybe she is? It's always hard to tell.

For as much as I could stand to be doing, I'm actually not doing much right now. I'm out of things to research, and my main area of focus is in Rain Shine's hooves (not that I could do much more with it in my own). I have a few dragon-fired missives from Canterlot, asking me where I am and why I'm not back yet, but governing is the last thing on my mind right now. I'm just fretting. But Tempest is busier than I've ever seen her since the war.

She's been interviewing the kirin of the village, writing notes, and drafting plans. I'm just tagging along most of the time. True, I've had to intervene a couple times when her plans grew too close to conquest—she wanted to have "backup plans," ones to which I disagreed vehemently—but she's quite proficient in peacetime negotiations, too. And very organized, enough to impress even me (and that takes a lot). I’ve always had little doubt Tempest deserved to retain her title of Commander, and moments like these confirm that.

Rain Shine is none the wiser, at least I don't think she is. She's been courteously distant, as most kirin in the village are. I hope she's still working on the translation—I haven't had the courage to ask, and Tempest doesn't seem interested in asking at all. It is what's keeping us in the village and her palace, though, and Rain Shine appears in no rush to evict us.

Today, we go to the mouth of the actual Stream of Silence, mainly for me to do a little investigative work myself. Tempest doesn't protest.

It's not far from the village, but the path there is riddled with fallen trees and other debris making it difficult to travel. While the kirin finished cleaning their village a few days ago, they've taken longer to clear this path and others. So it's surprising that when we arrive, we're not alone.

"Zaoshang," Rain Shine says, turning around as we approach. That's one phrase we've learned in our short time in the kirin village from those who speak.

"Good morning," I respond, offering a bow. Tempest does not nor does she respond. I hear my own voice too clearly.

The Stream of Silence is a stream of rushing water—it's babbling over rocks and switchbacks—but the sound of rushing water is missing. So is the wind. And the birds, and the animals, and the plants. My voice breaks the wall of void, riding the air but bouncing against nothing. As soon as it escapes my mouth, silence follows behind and eats the sound as soon as it can. It's a miracle Rain Shine can hear me at all and I her.

This place unsettles me. That old pony riddle doesn't hold up here. Here, sound doesn't want to exist; it has to fight to make itself known and travels only with great effort. It's even a bit physically uncomfortable: the silence exerts a pressure against my ears like somepony stuffed cotton into them. I can tell by her twitching that Tempest doesn't like it either.

Rain Shine only smiles lightly, ignoring or not noticing Tempest's disrespect. "What brings you to our Stream?" she murmurs musically. Her voice, too, carries only far enough for me to hear it.

"I just . . . wanted to see what the magic around here is like," I say. It's not really a lie. "And to take a sample of water. If you'll allow me to, that is!"

Rain Shine nods and returns her eyes to the Stream. "It is a sacred magic," she says. "And a sacred water. Water is normally a universal solvent that will assume the form of whatever falls into it, but this water will not. There is no pollution in the Stream of Silence. It is always pure, and it has always remained pure."

Besides my being taken aback by Rain Shine saying "universal solvent"—I don't know where she learned that from, but she's correct—the connotations of everything else she says are clear.

"Like fire?" I say.

"Especially fire. There is no water more effective in extinguishing fires than this one."

Tempest steps forward and gives me a slight nod. After a moment's hesitation, I nod in return. I don't know what she's planning except that she plans to enact it now. And I can't tell her not to act. Especially now when she has more purpose in her eyes than I've seen since the war. That fire would be impressive if I knew more about what it was trying to burn.

I really hope you know what you're doing . . .

"You talk about the Stream of Silence like you'd like to throw your whole village back in. Purify them."

Oh no . . .

Rain Shine controls herself better than the last times, but I can still see her pupils flash in anger. "I would not take away the voices and music of my village so soon. They deserve to express themselves. So long as they keep the peace, they may speak and banter and sing however they wish."

"'However they wish'? What if in using their voices, they don't praise your every decision? What if they challenge how you govern them?" Tempest says, a bit of acid finally making it into her voice. Of course with her, "a bit of acid" is quite a lot. "Is this how you keep the peace, by hanging the threat of a return to silence over their heads?"

Rain Shine blinks, slowly. When she opens her eyes, they're eerie facsimiles of what they were before, appearing as voids with no pupil or iris. Even then, her voice remains even. "I am happy to hear the voices of those who believe I can lead the village to greater prosperity."

"Then that makes it convenient for you that well over half of the village won't speak at all."

I look at Tempest worriedly. This is not how I schooled her to speak with others—you don't make friends like this. I've never heard her bleed so much vitriol, ever. Tempest might be fierce and rude, but she's not a bully. Tempest is honest and utilitarian with words. She could have just said she noticed that many kirin don't seem to speak regularly. This fact is not convenient for anyone, and Tempest has to know this.

"It is a choice whether one wishes to speak, and some choose to maintain the peace for the good of all kirin who appreciate it."

The silence pervading the area makes it hard to hear, but . . . is she lisping?

"And what about Autumn Blaze and others like her? She very much chooses to speak—she brought speech back to your village—but she also very much chooses not to when you're anywhere nearby. No kirin does."

"It is no act of evil to inform those who speak that they must do so respectfully."

She's definitely lisping.

Tempest narrows her eyes. "What does respect mean to you? Have you ever even spoken to your village? No, because they won't speak or communicate at all in front of you, or else they only discuss the weather or the most trite of topics that mean nothing. They do not respect you, Rain Shine; they are afraid of you."

Rain Shine closes her pupil-less eyes. "Tread lightly, pony. You know not what you are doing."

I'm getting nervous now, too. "Tempest? Maybe you want to back off a little?" I whisper, trying to give her a nudge.

She doesn't back off. If anything, she grows bolder. "I follow leaders. One who rules by fear and does not prove her worth is not a leader. Do you know who also made that conclusion?" She points to me with her head. "The Princess. The pony who originally sent her own friends here to fix the problem you caused. The pony who expected nothing in return from you except good faith that you'd respect her good intentions."

I force myself not to step back, and I hide my trepidation under an expression I hope is staid enough to pass judgment. This wasn't part of the plan either. She didn't tell me she planned to bring me into this argument. It's not that I won't support her or that I don't agree with what she's saying—I agree with her arguments in principle—but I honestly thought that I would be her fallback plan, even if she didn't know it at the time. Here comes the stubborn Commander who's a bit too belligerent and not very tactful, then comes the Princess who smooths things over with treaties and diplomacy while largely espousing the same goal the Commander tried to achieve. It's a story that's been told a thousand times.

But now, Tempest is writing a story I've never read before. I'm a protagonist in her story now, and I don't know how it ends.

"Ni ne?" Rain Shine's eyes are still closed, but I feel her presence grow against me. It's . . . terrifying.

Fear.

Fearless or foolish, Tempest does not stop. "We've talked to your village. Do you know how many kirin know what friendship is? Zero. Even Autumn Blaze, the most talkative one, barely knew the word in Ponish or Kirinese. It's an old word that's fallen out of use, she says." Tempest takes a step forward. "Friend. Pengyou. Do you know what either of those mean?"

I look at Tempest in shock. How in the world did she know that?

"I would hope to be on good terms with all the kirin of my village."

"And that means you are friends with none."

The Cutie Map works in mysterious ways. My friends and I never purported to have resolved everything on the missions we went on—we only resolve the immediate problem for which the Map identified and called us to resolve. The problem in this circumstance was that the kirin didn't speak and categorically couldn't form relationships with each other. Now they can—but will? It's evident now that there's still quite a lot left undone.

Rain Shine breathes in sharply. It's the only warning I get.

"And what would you know about friendship?"

All of a sudden, the world changes. The presence I felt against me grows tenfold and expands to pressure everypony around, including Tempest. The air grows hot and bright like we're standing at the mouth of a volcano. I shield my eyes. The oppressive silence the Stream enforced disappears, and a sound assaults my ears in its place. It's not flames snapping the wooden beams of a building; it's not water cascading over a cliff; it's not the screech of a bird in great pain; it's some terrible combination of all of those. In the wake of silence, the sound is deafening.

When I open my eyes, Rain Shine is gone. In her place is a creature made of fire and ash. Its eyes are voids of white, not lacking in expression, but filled with rage. Its mouth is bearing a set of terrifying sharp fangs, longer and sharper still than that of the changelings. Its mane and tail have been replaced by a dancing inferno of blue and purple, radiating such heat that the grass at its feet shrivels and blackens in seconds. Its horn has turned into a crest of flickering unworldly white energy, so unreal as to look like an illusion, but so hot as to sear any flesh it touches, save its own.

It stomps a hoof, and a pillar of black fire erupts from the ground. It doesn't burn my eyes like normal fire, but it unleashes a blast of heat that forces me back. I know I'm sweating, though from the fire or fear, I'm not sure. I light my horn, readying myself for a fight should Rain Shine turn violent. Taking a look beside me, though, Tempest doesn't seem bothered. If anything, she's smiling a little.

If Rain Shine was the vaunted empress of kirin, this one is the underworld goddess of nirik. As a kirin, she commands the authority of her village, but as a nirik, she commands a level of power even I'm not confident I could overcome. Not when the very air speaks to you and says, stand down, little pony. You are powerless here.

When next she speaks, it's with a voice deep, dangerous, and distorted. "Tempest Shadow. Hoof of the Storm and Scourge of Seaquestria."

And in a moment, that little smile disappears. Tempest, so confident and fearless as she normally is, takes a step back. "H-how did you know—"

"Do you not think I am not aware of those who threaten harmony? Are you so blind you do not know the infamy you live in? I knew who you were the moment you stepped into my village."

Tempest looks about ready to rebut her remarks, but Rain Shine ignores her entirely, turning her cold eyes on me instead. "Twilight Sparkle. Princess of Equestria, so new and blind to her role leading her nation that she nearly let this one destroy it."

"Wait, I . . ." I can't think of a riposte. She cuts straight into my heart.

They're words that might be construed as an off-hoofed remark, but they're obviously well-researched and disable me better than any blade. Even if the heat of her body and the pressure of her presence didn't steal my breath, I couldn't argue her point. She said exactly the words that I fret over in my constant struggle to prove my leadership. I've never come closer to failing Equestria than I did at the hooves of the Storm King. And for the moons when all of Equestria's princesses were either imprisoned in stone or had gone missing, I did fail.

"Both of you know nothing. Your only recourse from just retribution for your audacity is your ignorance. So let me dispel that for you, Tempest Shadow and Twilight Sparkle. Let me tell you about the Vernal Equinox Tragedy as it happened."

The heat emanating from Rain Shine cools, but the flames making up her mane and tail grow larger and seem to consume the rest of her body. The only thing left we can see of her is her featureless eyes and the angry white crests above them. They scatter to form a ring of fire around us as Rain Shine's corporeal form becomes one with the flames.

The flames around us do not close in, but some tendrils escape and form defined shapes within the ring. The purple and black flames turn red, yellow, and brown, tightening into the trees of autumn. Two flickering forms of white fire appear in the center that look almost like kirin. A single green spire sprouts between them, taking the form of a ginkgo tree. Rain Shine's distorted voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once, reverberating all around us.

"It is a tragedy that has since passed into kirin legend, one that all know but few believe to be more than legend. Overcast Light was lost at the hooves of Heavenly Fire and those he brought with him in his cursed argument."

The kirin forms take color, one grey and blue, the other sunset red and orange. The grey one appears a bit slimmer and shorter than the red, but they're otherwise indistinct, painted with fire as they are.

The red one accosts the grey one, stopping her under the tree. They speak with a tongue of fire, gesticulating aggressively. The grey one only shakes their head, over and over, not returning the red kirin's words. Suddenly, the red one rears up and, with a pyre of fire that extends to the sky, transforms into a nirik of black. The grey one takes a step back at this, growing smaller.

Wisps of wind, blue and white, bring embers of nut shells onto the ground between the kirin. There's a beat when nothing happens between the kirin under the ginkgo, the nirik across from her, and the tiny brown specks that began it all. We don't get to see what happens next; the blue and white wind blows harder, turns orange and red, and engulfs the entire scene.

I shield my face from the flash of heat. The story is brief, but it's just about like how Autumn Blaze told it. It was a tragedy that Overcast Light died in the argument, but Rain Shine was there when she told it too—she knows that we know all this.

As the heat dies down once again, I open my eyes. There's only one kirin form left—the grey one, spread on the ground, not moving, pinned under the blackened husk of a tree. Another form enters, and it's a very familiar one. This one is taller than the previous two and wears a fire of sandstone and aquamarine. This one leans down to the grey one, bringing her muzzle to sniff at her. This close, their resemblance is unmistakable.

"Kirin leadership passes from mother to daughter, father to son, adopted or natural. It is a leader's greatest duty to groom an heir to be their successor and ensure the well-being of the village they rule. When the child comes of age and the former leader chooses to pass their Diadem of Dynasties to their successor, they inherit their power and authority, allowing the former to enjoy the fruits of their labor and leave this world when their work is done."

"Then, Overcast Light, she was—"

"Yes, Twilight Sparkle. She was my daughter. Fresh and bright and without a blight of anger or negativity in her heart. She would have brought our village to new heights of prosperity. She would usher in a new age that bettered mine in every way. I was eager to see her plant her ideas in the ground and see them grow. She was ready to take my place."

The form of Rain Shine raises her head and howls with a voice of black fire. Overcast Light crumbles beneath her, becoming one with the ground. Once again, only one kirin is left in the scene. That number falls to zero as that black fire comes back down to engulf Rain Shine, leaving her a nirik of black and blue and purple. She howls again, and her voice of fire becomes other nirik forms, arguing with her, each other, and nothing at all. They run, and the trails of black fire they leave in their wake consume the scene once again.

When the curtain lowers again, the other nirik are gone. Only Rain Shine is left, keening towards the sky. Around her is an featureless expanse of black ashy embers, replacing the yellow and orange trees of flame that encircled the scene before. Nothing is left.

Slowly, the ashes disappear, absorbed into the form of Rain Shine as she grows and grows in size. Once all the ashes are gone, Rain Shine herself steps out from her own false form, the real flames licking about her body replacing her conjured ones.

"Grooming an heir for leadership begins far before they wake in this world. The loss of Overcast Light echoes far beyond herself." Rain Shine's voice is well-controlled once again, but her nirik form remains and with it the unnerving distortion in her voice. "She was more than an heir. She was my daughter. She held my every skill, my every tool, my dreams for a greater kirin society. She was the key to our future. And she was proud to take on the mantle of leadership and see these dreams through.

"I was not supposed to lead into this generation. The current leader of the kirin must lead for as long as she holds the Diadem, and she cannot relinquish it until a willing and capable heir presents themselves. For however long it takes. She cannot step down, cannot become one with her village, cannot truly live until the transfer of power is complete.

"Do you understand, then, why the nirik are so dangerous? They do not just threaten their neighbors, but their neighbors' futures, and their destiny as a society. The consequences are beyond what you ponies can possibly imagine. A single kirin has the potential to change the world—and a single nirik has the potential to destroy it. Uncontrolled speech will inflame tempers and bring nirik to the fore. If the kirin must speak, they will not risk this. They will not risk their destiny."

A nirik's expression is hard to guess—their eyes lack personality, their fangs are always exposed, and the flames constantly flickering around them makes reading body language very difficult. A nirik is always angry, and Rain Shine certainly is—but if I could read her, I'd almost guess she was sad, too.

"The circumstances that led to Overcast Light's tragic loss must never happen again. That is my decree."

"I . . ."

Rain Shine glares at me with transfixing eyes, both stopping me from speaking and daring me to continue. Either way, I don't know why I said anything at all: what could I possibly say? I've been fortunate enough that none of my family have fallen ill, but with my friends . . .

"Do you know what that reads to me, Rain Shine?" Tempest says, seemingly unaffected and uncaring of the anecdote she just heard. "That you'd jail your entire village at the hooves on one long-gone kirin only to make yourself feel better. It doesn't help Overcast Light that you're making these decisions now—she's dead. And I imagine that—"

"Silence."

The quiet utterance makes itself heard above everything else. Her eyes flash briefly, and in that flash, I stopped thinking, and Tempest stopped speaking. Even the world around us hears her command, the sounds of fire from Rain Shine's nirik body falling silent even as the flames about her burn hotter. I can feel the unfathomable magic of Silence infusing her voice and the air around us, as if the Stream itself was a geyser and it erupted, cloaking the air around us in a mist and holding us by its effects. It's authoritative and effective as any spell. The only thing I can hear is the echo of her command, still holding my mind and telling me what must be done. Stop your errant thoughts. Pay attention. And for your ancestors' sakes, do not speak.

It's evident now that this isn't the first time she's done this. I shiver with fear again.

Rain Shine turns her eyes to Tempest, similarly bound by the effects of her captivation. White-hot embers escape Rain Shine's mouth with every breath. The crests of flame above her eyes are angled in an angry "V." Tempest, bound to silence, nevertheless returns the glare with impunity.

Rain Shine's voice is unemotional, but it seems to only bely the emotion in it, like there was no tone that would properly show the anger she wanted to express. "Your temerity is boundless, O Tempest Shadow. You would be audacious enough to attack my character, suggest the decisions I made were short-sighted. You speak as though you have the wisdom to mentor leaders who've experienced more than you ever have. Like you are more virtuous than I."

Rain Shine points at Tempest, fetlocks dancing flames and hoof a bifurcated sharpened sai. Percussive crashes break the silence as Rain Shine's bone-white horn crackles with lightning, issuing miniature thunderclaps with every spark.

Instead of being shamed by her words or intimidated by her actions, Tempest tightens her jaw. She lowers her head just a bit and paws a hoof at the ground.

She can't possibly be thinking . . . can she?

But before I can warn her, there's one more tiny thunderclap, this one from Tempest. It's the only one she can produce from her horn before she winces in pain and breaks eye contact with Rain Shine.

"Tempest Shadow, the one who forced an entire species into hiding just so they could avoid your anger. Tempest Shadow, the one who killed countless and was responsible for the deaths of countless more. Tempest Shadow, the pony who never had a semblance of scruple in her heart and was willing to see nations destroyed only to further her own power."

Tempest clenches her jaw again, but she doesn't raise her fetlocks. She takes a step backwards, refusing to make eye contact.

What . . . what are you doing? I've never wanted to see Tempest dragged through the mud for her past sins, but it's inevitable that of all the ponies she would meet, some of them would insist on dredging them up. And in my experience, no one has been better at defending herself than, well, herself. She doesn't always choose the friendliest option for defense—the humble apology has never been high on her list, even when she left my tutelage—but she's never rolled over and accepted defeat, either. It's just so unlike her.

"Tempest Shadow, one with so much power that she used only for ill. Peace prevails, pony. And you have failed, whether you will admit it or not. Seaquestria has returned. Equestria is whole. You have accomplished nothing, and you will accomplish nothing here. Despicable." For how hot Rain Shine's flames burn, her eyes are so very cold.

Tempest takes another step back.

I don't condone Tempest's challenges—most ponies don't need the kind of conflict that she so often brings. But I understand where she's coming from, too. She's a Commander—she doesn't accept defeat without fighting first. She's always challenging herself, and challenging others. And you were challenging her just moments ago. What happened?

"You bandy your slander to incite war. Yet your army has fled. Whether by your own hoof or by your humiliating defeat at the hooves of Equestria, it matters not. But I see that your lust for destruction has not diminished. If not through might, then through civil war, you would try to incite despair again. I will never know your motives for death and anger and fire. But you will fail again, Tempest Shadow, as long as I defend my village, my species, against your evil."

"No . . . you don't understand . . ." Tempest mouths. She retreats yet again, sliding backwards in the dirt and ash underneath her belly.

I know it's not, and she doesn't understand. Tempest relinquished her desire for conquest long ago. I've had moons with her to make sure of that. Tempest, you had a plan, a plan to save the kirin!

"I question the delusion Twilight Sparkle is under if she is complacent in your plan. For however incompetent she is at leadership, she stands for peace, as I do. You are the antithesis for those forces that hold the world together. You use the word like a weapon against me, but what do you know about friendship? What business do you have to lecture me in the subject when your existence stands to rip it apart? You have never been a leader, but you pretend to know how to lecture on leadership."

Rain Shine takes a step forward. Tempest can retreat no more, her hind hooves lapping at the edge of the Stream of Silence.

"Your purpose in this world is destruction, Tempest Shadow. You know this as well as I do. So you must also know that the world no longer has need for a pony like you." She comes closer still and raises a hoof as if to step on her. "Tempest Shadow, you are worse than a villain . . .

"You are useless."

Tempest lowers her head, a bow elicited not through respect but shame. But just before Tempest's head touches the ground, the world comes to a stop and I realize why Tempest won't defend herself.

She can't.

She's a Commander—she won't accept defeat without fighting first. And if she can't fight . . .

Violence shouldn't be the first resort, I've told her. I've wanted her to resolve her problems and arguments with others without violence, and for the most part, she's succeeded. But there have been close calls—there have been a lot of close calls. As is, even during the Storm King's war, Tempest showed the most confidence when she was on top, when she had might over her victims and could force them to listen to her. It was also, perhaps ironically, in those conditions that Tempest was most likely to come to a peaceful resolution.

Now, she's been forced on her back hooves in a situation where might means nothing. Tempest no longer uses violence as her first resort, I know—it's why she wanted to talk things through with the kirin and Rain Shine in the first place. But as a Commander, where action speaks and words are cheap, as a pony who bred herself to be invincible, might is a powerful tool. There was always a plan B. Something safe and dependable and familiar to fall back on when all else failed.

That plan is gone now, and with it, Tempest's only defense. For perhaps the first time in her entire life, she's been forced to the ground, forced to surrender.

No . . .

No!

I made a promise. I made a promise that I would never give up on her! Tempest might be a Commander, but I'm a Princess.

And a Princess always defends her subjects.

I'm still here, and I'm still standing. I'm her friend, and her mission is mine too. She's been intimidated, and she's been overawed, but she hasn't been defeated. Violence isn't the answer, and it never could be. There's still so much she has to say, so much I want to say.

But for as much as I wish I could, I know I can't fight for her—I don't have the experience. My only experience with leaders is with Celestia, Luna, and Cadance, and they've all been nothing but kind to me and just to their ponies. And my experience negotiating with foreign leaders is even sparser—I've barely begun at this job, after all. It might be my responsibility to appear confident and self-assured in my decisions like Celestia did, but it's a mask. I can be diplomatic. I can put on an aura of calm. I can even incite peace when it's necessary.

But Tempest's experience is far different, and for that, she has very strong feelings about what a just leader should be. And she is—was—not afraid to speak her mind or even cause offense if it would achieve her goal. For whatever Rain Shine will say, I know that Tempest had—has—good intentions in speaking with her and truly saving the kirin from themselves. She wants them to know emotion. She wants them to know friendship.

Because it was something she never had in her childhood. Because it's what I offered her in truth. Because it's what Rain Shine isn't giving to her people.

Because it scares them all.

But I'm her friend. Her mission is mine too.

No more masks. No more diplomacy. Tempest stands for friendship, and I do too. I can't stand on the sidelines any longer, waiting for something to go wrong and calling for me to fix it with squirrelly words or worthless concessions or whatever peace is. That was never Tempest's idea, and it can't be mine, either.

I was worried a foreign nation might opt to start a war if we were too rude, and I wanted to stay out of that. But no, we are in a war, a war for the future of kirinkind. Tempest took it upon herself to command this fight, a feat I couldn't do myself. She is the tip of the spear, but I'm the shaft—she can't succeed if I'm not behind her all the way.

Tempest has always had a plan B. She will fall—but she'll fall into something more safe and dependable than she could have ever known. I might not know leadership yet, but I know friendship. Better than anyone else.

Time heaves forward once again, and I take action.

---

Comments

[Frazikar]

Hmmm, two points against Tempest, one, Harmony started that friendship mission and two, everykirin agreed with Rain Shine's solution at that time (including Autumn Blaze). Of course, Rain isn't totally right about Tempest's current 'viewpoint' either ...

[protator]

11719194
1. How is your first statement a point against Tempest? It could've been Santa's second cousin who sent them on that mission, it wouldn't have changed a thing.
2. They all agreed? We don't know that; I think it's more likely that in their Nirik state not a single one agreed. The only thing we do know is that Rain Shine ordered/forced them to step into the stream - although it seems reasonable to assume that that was just the nice folktale version of the event and that in reality, after loosing her child, she was even more pissed than she's right now and simply grabbed and threw them into the stream one by one herself.