Homesick

[Morene Fellon]

The way the Emperor spoke to Masahir dug into Morene’s skin. As Ra’tima-dro suggested everyone take their leave, she noticed the knight-errant’s lips twitching, desperately trying to hide her disgust. Shaking her head, Morene couldn’t keep quiet at that point.

“Don’t apologize, please, I now deeply regret having put my weapon away.”

Masahir felt her heart drop a few inches in response, worriedly staring at the huntress. Morene exhaled, immediately acting as if she was completely calm. The dancer nodded.

As Masa worried about the quiet whispers from the strangers servicing her a few minutes ago, the knochten comparatively could not care any less. Draping herself in a damp towel nearby, Morene had walked over to her armor, thoughts racing as she focused intensely on the gentle glistening of water gently falling down her armor standing on the far end of the room, white tiles surrounding her from all sides. None of the mumbling from the spa employees seemed to remind the huntress that she wasn’t alone, too annoyed to care.

Running a hand down the pauldrons of her armor, Morene looked up, coming to after zoning out again. She wished she had more time to think about telling Ra how utterly terrible of an idea working with this man is in any capacity if her daughter’s safety was priority, but remembering that Demetri was nowhere to be found forced a growl from Morene’s lips.

In an obvious sense of urgency, Morene got dressed in less than a minute. Slipping her arms in both vambraces of her armor, her gauntlets then fit onto her hands with ease. While the back of Morene’s cuirass closed, Iris was still sitting down to watch from below as the plugs of her suit of armor slid into the shallow sockets of the huntress’ back and spine. It was intriguing as it was slightly nasty to the android, so much so that she was immediately surprised when Morene turned her head to face her, speaking.

“Iris, did you notice where the thief ran off to?” She asked, under the assumption that the android would have easily detected Demetri sneaking away. Just as quickly, Ra was actually the one to respond.

“Slowpaws went to the room he had bathed. Ra’tima notices his little feet even now,” she looked up to emphasize, contempt in her voice that he decided to slip away completely whilst every woman present had to deal with Wolfe’s abrasive lack of manners. Morene didn’t hesitate to storm out the room, the stomping of her sabatons sure to alert Demetri as she rounded a few corners, but he had nowhere to run anyways. Beyond that, the huntress herself was sure he wasn’t trying to, given that he was still rummaging in that room he spent most of his time in.

In less time Demetri himself could blink as he was rummaging through drawers, Morene had already stepped into the room. He could hear her, of course, and he didn’t care to be walked in on, likely to quip about it. Morene interjected before he had a chance to speak, though.

“We’re leaving. I’m going to have Enugi show us our rooms, come,” the knight-errant ordered, much more politely than the thief had originally anticipated. Shrugging, the man looked to the side and gave a smug, brief smile.

“Don’t tell me I’m growing on you, now.”

Morene scoffed. “Barely, I just want us to leave this cesspool without as much of a hitch.” The woman didn’t make eye contact with the man once, putting emphasis on how baseline her concern for the thief’s emotions were. For now, she knew how much the man wanted a decent meal. She couldn’t blame him, either.

. . . ​

Enugi himself was nowhere to be found.

It had been a considerable amount of time after the entire group previously aboard Iris’ ship were together and looking for him around in the temple, but the guardsman was obviously busy, or missing entirely. No idea suggested as to where the man could have gone implied anything good. To make matters worse, there was a commotion outside. Not a panic, strangely enough, not many screams or cries were heard, but the noise was unmistakably loud.

Eventually, Iris’ crew made it to the front entrance of the temple, hesitant in their every action. The android herself spoke up, turning to the rest of her companions.

“We gonna look outside? Everyone’s looked up and down, can’t find the guy anywhere,” Iris let her words hang, worried and waiting for a response. It didn’t take long for the eldest two women in her crew to take charge; Masahir’s mother nodded in reply. She walked forward at a brisk pace.

“Follow,” the khajiit's words came out simply. Lifting her hands, Ra let her sleeves roll up to her elbows as she leaned forward, heaving upon the large metal gates with relative ease. As the doors cracked open, dim lights spilled in, and Morene’s height let her see the clearest of anybody as all five of the party looked onwards.

Immediately, Morene had noticed a sea of Dwemer only a single block away from the temple. Her first instinct was to assume it was a parade, but only a single moment more of inspection would cross that idea from her head. Every single denizen out on the streets now were moving all in a single direction, cramped, barely any room to move or breathe. As the gates opened further, the noise became more immediately evident, but still, everybody in the crew could hear no panic. Children were heard howling out occasionally, but only for tiny moments, as if they were accompanied by their family. Wagons and strange vehicles full of household belongings, clothes and food could be seen carried out by every tiny group amongst the crowd.

It was at that moment everybody at the gates of the temple remembered that the city was built in the middle of an active volcano. Masahir was the one to make the callout after connecting the dots.

“Everyone has to be evacuating, right?” The dancer’s mouth was wide in shock, her stomach plummeting at the thought and immediately contradicted by how slow and mournful the air was. Iris nodded back.

“Yep,” the android answered, “we gotta go, now.”

Despite how sudden everything was, the group felt a slow, heavy weight in the air that wasn’t tension. Everyone was walking at a brisk pace, seeming to follow Iris and Ra’tima, both very concerned about getting everybody on the ship. The android who piloted the spacecraft was hoping that it wasn’t stolen, moved or damaged in the time this evacuation had happened, which seemed to have been ordered earlier than Iris was comfortable with.

For everybody else, it was quieter than expected. Morene couldn’t recall living in the city long enough to evacuate from natural disasters, meanwhile the dancer and the thief were at the back, trying their best to not get lost. Of course, Demetri was more intrigued than concerned, to which Masahir’s body language did not hide that fact, but they all followed the crowd all the same. Masa in particular was thankful about how much her entire circle of friends and her mom stuck out in the city like a sore thumb, otherwise she’d have been lost.

Still, the dancer couldn’t help but feel off. Very, very off. Despite being a performer, Masahir ironically wasn’t good with crowds. Being in front of one was fine enough, but those closest to her tended to not expect her getting grumpy or antsy while in the middle of a massive group of people.

What if she did get lost?

Worse yet, what if the volcano erupted before any of them could board a ship? What if Iris’ was gone? In a grossly vivid daydream, Victor Wolfe himself could have walked out of any of the alleys as she passed them, and suddenly, the commotion of evacuation was drowned out and put in the back of her head as her absolute last priority. It felt deathly.

As those terrible thoughts ran through Masa’s head, her breathing became tighter, like her ribs were constricting on themselves. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything. She knew what was coming as soon as she felt the tips of her fingers go numb, and she knew she’d tell herself to be calm, but she knew that this was going to hurt. She just wanted to leave, she just wanted to go home. For another second, she realized again that she didn’t have a home right now, and she may never have one again at this rate. The performer was fearing for her life, and as her panicked breaths came out like an overloading broken pressure pipe, she tried desperately to focus on anything. Her head kept turning, along with her body, trying to find her friends, her mom, anybody she knew.

Finally, she could hear the faint voices of Ra’tima-dro and her bodyguard Morene. She turned to them for a split second, their figures registering as no more than amorphous colorful blobs that really did stand out against the visibly annoyed Dwemer moving past them. As their presence calmed her for a slight second, another invasive thought entered her mind as she realized she was making a scene, and a crippling wave of embarrassment had tears streaming down her face.

She tried, she really did, but she couldn’t help but violently flinch as both her mom and her friend tried to hold onto her. She couldn’t see it, but Ra’tima looked at Morene as she nodded at her, signalling to the mother that this wasn’t new to her.

“Come,” Morene said gently, close enough that Masa could hear, not loud enough to alarm her. Through hyperventilated breaths, she eventually let Morene’s massive gauntleted hand gently push her shoulder, walking by her side, making sure she didn’t go anywhere. Even then, Masahir felt like she was going to die, and her body could not accept company right now.

Soon enough, Masahir was guided off the streets. At the corner of her eye she could faintly see Morene opening the door of what was obviously a now abandoned shop of some sorts, still very obviously Dwemer, which was certainly less worrisome than the temple or any one of the Emperor’s buildings. As the huntress guided her, she quickly walked over, taking a seat near the closed window.

Dim light fell into the room. Masahir still couldn’t feel her arms or the inside of her chest, but she could feel something at least. That’s what mattered, and she held onto that as Morene sat down next to her.

Fortunately enough for Morene, it seemed like Masa wasn’t as fidgety anymore; only a few seconds had passed until she was only in the company of her friends and family, taking a massive weight off her heart that was only a touch away from breaking. The knochten saw this and made an offer, outstretching her hand and letting it rest on her knee in case Masahir wanted to hold onto it, moreso to remind her of the woman’s presence.

“Breathe, sweetie,” Morene spoke as serenely as she could. Sniffling, Masahir finally spoke, finding herself physically able to, but still barely listening to her bodyguard’s advice.

“I-I’m sorry,” she trembled, sniffling harder in between choked up whines.

“No need, just focus on your breathing, aye?” The huntress asked of her employer, still very much so in danger of herself. Masahir shook her head, trying to ground herself in reality once again, but it was difficult, and Morene knew that as she watched. “Here,” she began again, “breathe in. Count to ten, then exhale.”

Shakily, the dancer eventually did so, her fists clenching as she nodded along with the numbers in her head, finally releasing the air in her lungs that felt like it was trapped. As she let out a slow breath, she did feel a fraction of the weight in her chest escape suddenly, then build back up again. She knew she had to repeat this process, barely bringing herself to do it. Morene’s voice reminded her again.

“Good, good, now continue with that. I’ll be here,” the knochten affirmed, still keeping one of her hands out. Eventually, Masahir did place her gentle palm on top of Morene’s cold gauntlet.

Standing beside both of them, Demetri knew he could escape now if he wanted to, but again decided against it as soon as he thought about what to do if he actually accomplished such a feat. Besides, he was impressed with Morene’s patience.

Iris was looking out the window briefly, keeping an eye out in case anything happened outside. Meanwhile, for the first time seen by everybody with the exception of Masahir herself, Ra’tima-dro appeared to be very obviously worried. As much as she tried to hide it, the feeling of watching a stranger tend to her own daughter better than she did in the instance of emotional support was as heartbreaking as it was embarrassing.

Still, all Ra truly cared about was seeing her daughter feel better again. If there was a doubt in her mind as to whether or not Morene was the right pick for this job, this served as the final nail in the coffin as to whether or not this lady would get hired again. Ra’tima-dro shook herself out of that thought, focusing instead on her daughter just now recovering from a panic attack. Morene turned her head to face the khajiit woman for a brief moment, nodding her head. Then, Masahir eventually spoke out, slowly.

“I’m--... Okay, now,” she paused, keeping her eyes closed.

Morene raised her brow at this, knowing she was still clearly not feeling well. “Certain?”

“Y-...Yes. I’ll make it,” Masahir barely let out. A moment of silence passed as the knochten gently held onto her employer’s hand. Advancing forward, Demetri made his presence known, raising his hand as if to make an announcement.

“So, we gonna head out anytime soon? I find it a bit -- how to put it, weird that nobody else is worried about drowning in magma.”

The huntress couldn’t help but squint at the man, so obviously invested in his own self-interests that Morene initially thought he was doing some strange joke as a means to brighten the mood. She sighed, replying. “As much as I want to tell you to read the room, you’re right in the fact we should be heading out.” She looked again at Masahir. “Dear,” she continued, “are you sure you’re ready to head off?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. For a brief moment, Morene knew that she’d have to discuss this with her mother, but again, that thought was interrupted by Demetri seeming to bring most of the group’s concerns to the forefront.

“Where is this palace we’re supposed to be going to, anyway? That is our plan, right?” He then crossed his shoulders to emphasize, rather impatiently. Iris replied instantly, her voice coming from the other end of the room.

“Mesa Roja. That Gilgamesh fella has not been very quiet about it; he doesn’t seem like a subtle guy at all!” The android quipped, turning her head with a slight smile. Masahir chuckled softly, knowing for sure that was believable. Demetri squinted.

“Where exactly on Mesa Roja?” He asked, to which Iris shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out!”

Another silence passed, and Iris reached to grab the door that would lead them to the streets. Ra nodded her head, looking at the window that only brought a speck of light into the shop whose family left only moments ago.

“We leave, then.”

 

[Masahir N'air]

Masahir had fidgeted the entire trip to Mesa Roja, changing into and out of several outfits before giving up with a huge and dramatic sigh. Only at the behest of her mother did she finally settle on her favorite, a simple crimson off-the-shoulder, empire-waisted maxi dress that flowed in tiny felled pleats. The way the dress gathered in front with a tiny bow had always struck her as adorable and flattering.

She glanced down at her phone, a disgusted pout growing on her face.

(1) New Message
Victor Wolfe​

The dancer sighed and rolled her eyes, plucking her phone up and swiping the message open. "I have sent you the coordinates of a city we picked up on the scanners...." her dark eyes skimmed over the message, unease yanking her stomach into her chest. She grimaced and looked away from the screen at the mention of "getting all the good viewing angles" of Sutor's body. Honestly, she was squicked out by his constant, invasive sexuality. Recently he had gotten worse- at least based off of what she knew beforehand. Her mother was right, he had a reputation as a sleaze that vastly preceded him, but at least before that first personal meeting he’d been somewhat more reserved. Her brows furrowed together as she forced herself to look at her messaging app once more.

"Sorry, we're already here... We'll be at those coordinates soon...." She started on her response, asking him- She? Them? Whatever- if they planned on meeting them at the aforementioned spot. She slid her phone into a cleverly hidden pocket in her dress and turned to Iris. "Victor sent me the location, I forwarded it to you. Looks like we beat them to this place... He said it was a city we're going to- do you know anything about it?"

The snowy-haired android pulled the information up on the screen in front of her, idly chewing her bottom lip as she pondered. "Yes, those coords’ look like they match up to a city called ‘Uruk’.”

“Uruk? Is there any more on this ‘Uruk’ you can tell me?”

The Synth pursed her lips, “a Gilgamesh fellow set it up as a safe haven- apparently he’s looking for powerful heroes. He called himself the King of Heroes in the notice~” A chuckle played across her mouth, but Masahir was barely listening at that point.

“Gilgamesh? You’re... You’re sure about that?”

“I’m positive about it. Called himself King Gilgamesh and everything.” She pulled the notice up onto the holographic screen so Masa could see for herself. The diva studied it carefully, scared sick that it was nothing more than a cruel joke. Her phone buzzed out an alert- probably a response from Victor- she silenced it quickly, batting away a man- what did he say, he was some sort of goddess now?- a so-called-goddess that was rapidly becoming a nuisance and discomfort in her life.

~ * * * ~​

“Ma’am,” Morene crossed her arms, studying her employer, “might we talk about important matters?”

If the huntress was being honest with herself, something about addressing Ra’tima-dro in a professional manner put a knot in her stomach. Of course she wouldn’t show it, leaning against the kitchen unit’s counter top.

The Khajiiti woman pushed the fridge closed, ice clinking against the sides of her glass as she stared at the knochten with piercing blue eyes. “What important matters are we discussing?”

“Perhaps this isn’t a professional inquiry as much as it is a personal one, forgive me, but why work with this Wolfe individual in the first place?” Morene asked, not bothering to sugarcoat the question.

Ra took a sip of cold water, “because currently it is the best option.” Her response was tart, terse and to the point with very little frills.

“I don’t doubt that,” the huntress continued, noticing how quick Ra was to respond, “I think you two have some sort of history, no? I get the feeling you don’t like the man much at all.” Morene knew if she pressured the woman she’d get snapped back immediately, and it wasn’t her intention to pressure the lady in the first place.

“Ra’tima-dro does not like Lord Wolfe, no. But Ra’tima-dro has lived all her life toiling under powerful men who keep that power to themselves. This one used to have that fire in her heart, but it is naive, it rewarded her with nothing more than an empty stomach and wet fur at best.” She paused for a moment, meeting Morene’s eyes. “Ra’tima-dro has learned to play the game, and she refuses to lose it.”

“I won’t criticize playing things with a bit more tact, but,” Morene paused. Looking ahead, the knight-errant let out a very short sigh, preparing herself to put a little more pressure on this conversation than originally intended. Looking back at the khajiit, she continued eventually. “I don’t know if it’s wise to keep your daughter around the man. That being said, I trust you’ve noticed already, aye?”

The furry little woman gave a sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, yes,” she rasped, “trust this one when she says she does not approve of her sweet tal being in the company of such a vermin. Ra’tima-dro is wise enough to try to keep her daughter away from the danger, but she is young, and her head is led by her heart, and her heart is full of dreams and fancies.”

She continued, “you will have to trust this one when she says that Masa’s interest is curiosity at best. A... how would you put it... a celebrity crush, no? Ra’tima-dro trusts that she will become disillusioned shortly, when she sees past his fool’s gold skin. Wolfe is too brash and forceful. She will not like him.”

“You know that’s not always where that ends, though.” A beat of silence fell among the two women. The khajiit knew that Morene was well aware of what happened to her daughter. The grisly and stoic expression on Morene’s face as she looked at Ra spoke of genuine concern, but more importantly: contempt for the Emperor.

Ra’s grip on her glass tightened, grey fur hiding what would have been tense white knuckles as her eyes narrowed. “That was different.” She dismissed quickly, her ears flattening. “Morene would be wise to know that Ra’tima-dro will not allow such... such an injustice to repeat itself.”

“I know that man would be dead in seconds if either of us caught wind of the slightest intention from him,” Morene finished briefly, laying off Ra for a moment in an attempt to not escalate things further. As much as the knochten knew she had every right to push the khajiit about being more careful, caution was her utmost priority as she pointed the topic of conversation in a slightly different route. “If it’s not too invasive, how competent would you say Masahir is in regards to defending herself physically?”

The feline snorted softly, “she is well trained in the art of Khaj Rawlith, this one made sure to pass all her secrets onto her daughter. Why?”

“Might I have permission to teach her my methods, then? I’m completely unfamiliar with the art you speak of, but if you allow me, I’ll show her how to topple opponents similar to even my stature,” Morene nodded, clearly brightening up her voice as she proposed further. “You can watch, and it’s not necessary I charge either of you for it. Sincerely.”

Ra’s demeanor softened, taken aback a little by the knight-errant’s generosity. “This one would appreciate it very much, though she thinks you should mention it to Ma-”

A rapping at the door interrupted the mother right before Iris poked her chipper little head in. “Hey, just wanted to let you two know that we’ve landed.”

Morene’s head swiveled to question the pilot, “already? Masahir got a hold of those coordinates for you?”

“Mhmm! It’s a huge city by the name of Uruk, that King Gilgamesh guy everyone seems to care about is the one in charge.”

Ra cast a genuine look of shock at Morene and set her empty cup on the counter, practically sweeping the bodyguard- along with the android- out of the kitchen with her sudden enthusiasm. “What a pleasant surprise for this one- come, Sharpclaws, let us feel the warm sands beneath our feet once again! This one can wait no longer.”

The room fell silent as the door slid shut behind the two women, save for a tiny crisp snapping as the lone glass splintered down its side.

 

[Masahir N'air]

Masahir stood in the exit way of the ship, doubled over and gently clutching her stomach with one hand and clinging to Morene's arm with the other. It'd easily been at least five minutes since their spaceship had landed planetside, on the outskirts of the large and developing Uruk, yet she still felt her stomach rolling and churning from the descent. Not that Iris had done a poor job, but-

"Aha, I see you haven't earned your 'sea legs' yet! Or would 'space legs' be more apt?" The stowaway rogue poked fun at the diva from his seat, earning himself a stern glare from the Knochten and a queasy glance from Masa. He put his hands up and raised his eyebrows, giving a dramatic resignation. "Alright, alright- I get it. No jokes around here." He grumbled quietly to himself while fussing with his seat harness. There was a certain, incredibly subtle bounce to his gait that was not lost on Ra as he walked to the row of lockers lining one wall. The khajiiti woman blinked lazily, squinting against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the sand dunes in the distance. The wind whipped at her robes and face, stinging her eyes with its bittersweet kisses.

For the first time in what felt like years... She was finally somewhere closer to home. How long had it been, since she'd seen those beautiful arid blue skies over Rimmen? How long since she had walked the streets of Rawl'kha, or prayed at the Do'Krin Monastery for the guidance and moonlight of Jode and Jone? A dull ache rang through her chest, nearly strong enough to knock her from her feet with its resounding pain. It had been over a decade and this strange land never ceased to rip out the rug from under her feet. Were the gods punishing her for her crimes? No... She brushed the thought from her mind. Where ever she was, whatever hostile foreign realms she found herself in... She knew she must be vastly far from home.

She pulled herself together with a single inhale of breath, before moving to comfort her daughter. Her small hand squeezed the back of Masa's arm lightly, "come now, tal. It has been too long since we've been home, no?"

The diva straightened up slightly, and gave a weak but sincere smile, "yeah, it's feels like ages since we've been somewhere so warm and familiar..."

Iris peaked her pale face around one of the landing ramp's braces and cleared her throat to catch their attention. "I spoke to the guards at the gate and asked them to pass your message onto the king, Ra'tima-dro."

"Yes? And tell this one what was said? Did the King respond to Ra'tima-dro?" Her voice rasped, and Morene realized just how much the course rattle of the feline's voice sounded like the hum of sands shifting past each other.

"They told me that the King was otherwise occupied, but recognized your name, ma'am. He has made a request of you, here-" Iris shuffled onto the ramp, giving her titanium alloy skin a break from the beaming noon sun and biting sands, and handed Ra a small holographic device. Lithe fingers soon figured out how to navigate its smooth surface and prize it into cooperation. The message quickly flickered to life, a blue hologram bust of King Gilgamesh's face and shoulders addressed them, doling out a short list of requested tasks that would help him and Uruk out greatly. His visage finished the short address and ended with a curt bid of farewell before the projection automatically shut off.

Masahir glanced between the three women standing around her. "So... He wants us to look at what, imported food?" Her tone was tinged with disappointment. She was a dancer, not a merchant. Of all the gifts her mother sought to pass onto her, economics, trade and math had never managed to stick the same way she'd taken to acrobatics or social engineering. She could already imagine how dreadfully boring it would be to spend the day in the market doing brain-numbing quality assurance under the baking sun.

Ra batted her small hand with an air of impatience. "No, child. Not 'just imported vegetables'. Wait and listen to your mother. The King wishes for us to check the importing merchants and look into the types of show acts that are arriving. This one sees a clear option, Ra'tima-dro and Iris will check the merchants while Morene and Masahir investigate the performers."

A scoff sounded from further up the ramp, in the main bay of the ship. The feline twitched an ear, already knowing who it was. "And you, Slowclaws. This one has no use in babysitting a prisoner. Unless the thiefling wishes to stick around and help, Ra'tima-dro thinks it best he figure out his own from now. She reads that Karim is full of smugglers and bandits and charlatans alike. Perhaps Slowclaws can find a line of work there, and out of this one's fur."

"Wow, talk about dismissive." Chided the thief, almost sounding disappointed in his tone. He tsked, clicking his tongue with a mischievous energy. "You're going to send me off without a snack or even a bottle of water, and in this desert? What a cruel kitty."

 

[Demetri Malius]

Though the thief gave protest against his release, in truth he was rather surprised. Whoever this Gilgamesh seemed to be held some sort of respect for the feline and her companions. As much as it piqued his interest, he did need some fresh air.

“No need to tell me twice. I would guess you don’t need my contact information then?”

Ra’tima simply gave him a look before continuing her preparations. A slight nod came from Demetri before he suddenly slinked off.

“Are you sure we should just let him go like that?” Morene questioned, unsure of the reason for his release.

“Dull-claws will only slow us and bring trouble, he has the look about him. For now, we must see to it that we accomplish our tasks.”

“Harsh,” came a call from where Demetri gathered his belongings.

Iris pondered for a moment, wondering how everyone was doing. With the thief leaving, it would mean they could focus more on Masahir while they join this Gilgamesh. By now, much of her functions had returned, though she could feel that she would still need to get repairs on her damaged weapons. The android could not help but feel a hint of worry in the back of her mind as if something was watching her.

“Well, let’s get started!”

Hearing her own voice felt alien for a moment. Since meeting Morene and coming aboard the ship some time ago, Iris felt this creeping feeling in her mind. A relic of who she was before. Something seemed to be stopping such a thing from reaching her completely, though what it was she couldn’t be sure. She just hoped this wouldn’t cause trouble later on for her new friends.

 

[Morene Fellon]

Morene took note that Iris was trying her best to assert herself in regards to moving things forward, letting the woman finish her turn to speak. Opening her lips to speak, the knight-errant looked over the now dormant spacecraft and onto the hazy horizons of Mesa Roja, stopping herself when she realized the situation wasn’t nearly as urgent as it was a few hours ago. It felt off, like all of the tension with the Emperor suddenly dissipated only to appear at a far more unfortunate time later, but the knochten could do nothing but let those feelings go for now.

It was a bit jarring to not only be tasked to help Masahir with something like performance auditions, but letting the thief go also didn’t seem like a good idea. Still, Ra’tima was correct that there really wasn’t a need in holding him as some pseudo-prisoner. Demetri didn’t hesitate more than a moment to turn his back on the group and begin walking away, raising his hand to signal his-- only slightly dramatically dejected, farewell.

“You guys sure you don’t uh, need me around?” The thief didn’t bother to look back, maintaining his composure of unphased stallwark cool-guy.

“What good can a thief with no ship and no crew do for this one~?” Ra’tima’s rhetorical question chimed with dismissal as she flicked her tail to the side. “Go, make yourself busy in Karim now.”

Iris piped up, surveying the rugged desert outside of the ship. “Don’t worry, we’ll get in contact with you when we need to!”

Demetri gave a quiet, barely audible sigh-- whether of relief or disappointment, no one could be certain. Still, he kept walking, only a slight bit shaken up by the implication that Iris could keep tabs on him whenever she liked. Eventually, the rest of the girls turned their back on him, walking forwards to the outer walls of the city that Gilgamesh ruled over. Fortunately for the four girls, the guards that eventually recognized the guests of honor had been helpful in giving general directions to both the bazaar within the city and then the audition tent. Again, that jarring feeling loomed over Morene, but there was a bit of a walk to get to the aforementioned tent anyways, giving the woman time to let this sudden change of pace sink in. Finally, she spoke out.

“We separate here then?” Morene inquired, turning towards Ra. The feline gave the knochten a nod and a flick of her tail. Without a word more she, and her android companion, slipped seamlessly away into the crowd. Morene watched the two leave, waving to Iris who offered the same gesture in return. Then, she tilted her head towards her partner, deciding to get a move on.

“Well,” Morene prompted, “shall we get to the tent? I can’t exactly remember when the last time I’ve judged stage performance auditions before, so you’re going to have to give me a crash course or two on the way there, miss N’air. Doesn’t this take actual qualifications?”

Masahir couldn’t help but smile, a laugh jumping from her lips. “Anyone can be a judge~ Though... I will say that it’s much better to know about what you’re judging.” The brunette dancer paused for a moment, delicately pushing the flaps to the tent open. She eyed her bodyguard up and down with an amused expression. “I didn’t really figure you for the type to know about casting, acting or talent scouting, no offense bonita~”

“Aye,” Morene drew out, “it’s less that I consider myself tasteless and more you’re a celebrity entertainer. That could get anybody nervous, no?”

“Sure, if you have stage fright~ performers spend every day of their lives putting themselves in spaces where they hafta prove themselves. You get over it eventually- if you’re good~”

“Couldn’t be much worse than a fight or flight survival situation, but perhaps I’m mistaken on that,” the knight-errant teased, taking her time to duck her head under the opening of the tent that Masahir presented, getting a good look at the rather dull and empty look on the inside. The only thing that was present was tables, chairs and a sizable stage floor. It was to be expected given the work-in-progress state of the rest of the city, but the two ladies certainly did not have much to handle. Not as if Masahir minded, taking her turn to respond.

“Well, mama taught me all about hand-to-hand fighting, and I grew up on the streets...” She took a moment to contemplate her answer. “It feels different, but the same, I guess? There’s a rush when you’re up there performing, but I wouldn’t say it’s the same as when you’re thrown into defending yourself from some loonie thief trying to gut you in an alleyway.”

“Adrenaline is a peculiar thing; the closest thing I’ve gotten to acting experience is when I was relearning how to be socially adept again after… losing myself without human contact for a few years,” Morene paused, rolling her eyes as she remembered her old days of being an actual hunter-gatherer that never needed to speak. She opened her mouth to finish her turn to speak, sitting down in a folding chair that could surprisingly hold the weight of her and her armor. “A lot of it’s just faking it until you make it as the saying goes, forsooth?”