Mother Knows Best

[Demetri Malius]

Iris dashed forward, her blade coming up as she approached Morene, who quickly drove her sword down to deflect, continuing her push by thrusting her shoulder forward into the android. A hand was thrown behind her in response, kicking a foot up as she tucked back into a flip and slammed a foot into the side of the knochten’s helm. Both took a moment for a breath before coming together for another exchange.

“You guys are doing great! Great charge, Morene! Good flip, Iris!” Masa cheered from the side of the dusty field that her two bodyguards sparred upon, the wind softly blowing away the everpresent layer of topsoil as well as the dancer’s hair, giving her a look as if she were in a photo shoot.

The knochten slammed her fist forward, feigning a punch before grabbing the android’s defending sword, gripping it tightly in her armored hand as she brought the pummel of her weapon down on the android’s headgear, before then sending a kick to her chest, sending her flying.

“A most impressive display!” Masahir jumped up, excited by the brawl, yet also concerned for her android friend.

“Ow, that always makes my head ring.” Iris spoke as she sat up and dusted off, her headgear retracting into its less bulky form. Her sword-arm followed suit, retracting into her arm and replacing it with her biosynthetic flesh.

“It’s good to always be prepared for it. I am glad to know that I can keep a step ahead of your combat chips.” Morene held out a hand, helping Iris up before taking off her helmet.

“Right when I think I have you figured out, you change it up! So unfair!” Iris pouted, giving Morene a squinted look.

She chuckled after taking in a breath of fresh air, smiling. “It comes with experience, you often don’t find yourself facing the same opponent as often as a sparring partner. I imagine you can change your tactics as fast as I can in a real combat scenario.”

Iris pondered for a moment before taking the complement and nodding.

“That was great! It’s hard to keep up with you two sometimes.” Masa swung her legs from the shaded rock she sat upon in the shade, gracefully hopping down and giving a stretch. “Let’s go stop by to see Mamá at the shop! She wanted me to help out today, and you know how she gets if we’re late.”

Both of her guards gave nervous smiles. They didn’t need to be reminded. The past few months of helping them make a living and fending off thieves was no small task. Iris had come a long way since her initial rebooting, and no longer had too much issue with common interactions with regular people. She still had some issues with alcohol processing, though as long as Morene and Masahir kept the bottles away from the android, they needed not worry about it. Their routine was steady, though they did wonder what became of their stowaway after his departure.

“Well, let’s head out! Maybe we can stop by some of the markets?” Iris piped up cheerily.

“How long has it been since our last visit?” Morene questioned.

“At least seventy-eight hours, forty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds!”

“I suppose we can stop by, just try not to cause any trouble, sometimes I wonder if we need to head over to Cevanti to see if you need a tune-up. Even I can't make heads or tails of your technology sometimes.”

“Don’t be mean, maybe we can find a specialist at the port sometime this week! You never know who is going to visit the city!”

“Iris does make a good point. Tomorrow let’s head to the port and see if we can find anyone interesting!” Masahir was always keen on meeting new people, especially when they looked at her with starry eyes.

Morene gave a soft sigh. More times than not, ports and markets were the cause of making work for her, but she couldn’t help but look forward to the smile on Masahir’s face seeing everything. There hasn’t been anything they couldn’t handle so far, so a visit wouldn’t hurt.

 

[Masahir N'air]

"Masahir N'air Bin Muzdahir Tarīq ʼUsṭūl Saghir!"

Masa couldn't help but wince at her mother's usage of her full name. She already knew she was in so much trouble, just from that alone. She shot an uneasy look at her two bodyguards, Iris and Morene, as if pleading for their help. Iris just sorta shrugged as if to say 'oof, sorry about that', whereas Morene simply furrowed her brow and gestured towards the front door of the sandstone brick shop. If she had to guess, the knight-errant would only prattle on about responsibility and accountability. The Diva grimaced and shyly stepped inside, praying to the gods above that she'd be able to slip into the store and miraculously avoid Ra'tima's notice in the dimness.

Real fat chance of that.

"Masahir, come to this one right now." She froze, feeling the glare of the feline on her back. She turned around casually, trying to act as natural as possible. Blue incense smoke curled through an elegant golden censer and upwards through the air, carrying with it sharp and earthy scents.

"Ah, hah- hey Mama," she waved meekly. Ra'tima's gaze never faltered. The small khajiit stood behind the wooden counter, draped in muted green and mauve silk-muslin robes. Any passerby could easily swear that all that fabric threatened to swallow up such a diminutive woman whole, any moment now.

"What is it with this one's daughter? This one says work starts at one o'clock, and yet Masahir finds it most reasonable to arrive thirty minutes late."

"Oh- I'm not thirty minutes late-" she paused for a moment and glanced back at Iris, "Am I?" The android glibly informed her that it was indeed twenty-five minutes and four seconds past one o'clock in the afternoon. The Diva scrunched her nose up and rolled her eyes a little bit. So much for a bail out from the robot. The small khajiiti woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her wide, flat nose with her lithe fingers and resting her other hand on her hip.

"Masahir, this one got you a communication device for this reason. As sleek and fabulous as Ra'tima-dro is, she will not be around to coddle you forever! You must be more responsible. This one is trying her best to teach you..." The older woman continued her lecture, droning on about work ethic and how beauty fades from everyone but effort and hard work were skills that stuck. A wooden radio hummed softly, narrating the events of this year's 'Death Game': Dante's Abyss. The two bodyguards slid in behind the dancer, but they didn't escape the five-feet-of-fury's warpath for very long either.

"And you two!" Ra nearly hissed. Iris innocently put her hands up as if in surrender. "Ra'tima-dro does not pay for sloppy work! When this one says that her precious tal should be somewhere at a certain time, she expects her daughter to be there on time!"

"Mama..." Masa whined, pushing her lips into a slight pout, "can I please just get to work? What if a customer walks in? I doubt you'd wanna scare them off with a lecture... right?"

The little woman let out a deep, raspy sigh and waved her paw flippantly, dismissing the trio as she turned around to continue her inventory and stocking work. "Iris, verify the stock lists, Morene..." The feline cast a glance at the steely woman and flicked her tail at the door, indicating that she expected Fellon to stand guard in the store and look menacing, as always. Finally, "Masahir, you will help this one with the till, unless you wish for her to sweep you out the front door."

 

[Broly]

It had been two weeks since he had driven the car through one of the city gates. He had found a stable with a yard and had bartered for a place to park the car. He had managed to acquire a tarp and covered it up, taking the keys with him. Uruk was a massive city. Not even the capital province of Khitai was as large. It had taken the man several hours upon arriving to arrive at the palace. A royal advisor had taken the spice mélange, written Lucien’s name down, given him directions to the nearest barracks, and with a thank you he was ushered out of the palace and back out into the streets.

The city was very unforgiving for people without money. Lucien’s armor was in tatters. He had stripped most of the loose fabric away to craft the makeshift tent for Imogen. The only part of his cloak that remained was the hood and the face mask. He had sold off various parts from the car and several of his tools and equipment for enough money to get around. The New Babylon barracks were nicer than your average housing. They provided food, places to wash, and a bed to sleep in.

Everything had been going okay until one day he had left his bag in the locker area and when he had returned from washing it was gone. It had not been the worst thing in his life now. His stab wound had become infected, and he had run out of his pills. He was sure it was something from the water, but he could not be sure.

***​

The sound of the morning wakeup call descended upon Lucien’s ears. He turned over in his bunk, absentmindedly putting weight on his wound. The sharp pain had him quickly slamming his head into the bunk above him as he bolted awake. Closing his eyes, the werewolf sighed and swung his feet out from his blankets. The other soldiers and guardsmen were all going about their business gearing up for the day. Taking the key from around his neck, Lucien unlocked his footlocker and, while it was mostly barren, he noticed a sizable pouch had been placed inside. Taking it out he tugged it open before immediately pulling it shut.

Silver.

In the least, it was a relief to know he had gotten paid. By the weight of it he could get some new clothes and the stuff he needed to treat his stab wound. He pulled at the cotton bandage the barracks medic had given him and examined the progress it was making.

Well, if it were not for the infection and the silver this thing would be on its way to being healed. At least I can move my arm somewhat.

With a sigh he removed the dirty bandage and tossed it on his bed. Taking a fresh one from his footlocker he tore open the packaging and placed the cotton to his arm, making sure the adhesive was firmly pressed against his skin. With a tired grunt he got up and proceeded into the locker room/armory to get his equipment.

“Oi, Lucien. You get to patrol one of the merchant districts today. Check the duty roster to find out which one.” The Serjeant-at-Arms shouted from down the hall.

He began calling out assignments to various people as the werewolf put on his desert armor piece by piece. Lucien had thrown out his still suit days ago. It was useless as armor and its function had been destroyed by a knife. They had given him a short sword for use in his duties. Wrapping the belt to the scabbard around his waist he tied it tight and headed out the door into the streets.

The sun had barely crested the roofs of the nearby structures as the Werewolf proceeded into the street. Taking the map of the city he had gotten from the armory he studied it for a moment before heading down a main street towards one of the many merchant areas. He had remembered to take the coin with him.

I could get some stuff while I’m out there. What fun.

Lucien had double wrapped the bag of silver in some cloth he had acquired. While he could technically handle pieces of silver in the swift exchange for purchasing goods, the metal made him extremely uncomfortable. Through the years he had learned how to control himself around various silver objects for the sake of keeping up appearances, excusing himself when he could to safely put distance between him and vile metal. His discomfort with silver had also manifested itself in a strong dislike of merchants. Peddlers that were not quick with their exchange or took too long aggravated him. The faster he could get the silver out of his hand the better.

***​

It was just about two o’clock in the afternoon and Lucien was enjoying the free time on his lunch. He practically had nothing to eat, but at least a canteen of water hung from the side of his belt. This morning he had rushed out the barracks and in his haste forgotten to take something to eat, save something for his new companion, a black wolf pup he’d taken to calling Mangonel. This lack of snacks wasn’t really a problem for the well built man, his werewolf physique kept him going a lot of the time. He smirked and ruffled the pups head as Mangonel playfully nipped at his fingers. The little pup was secured snuggly in the makeshift sling Lucien had fashioned around his chest, with his front paws draping over the fabric that kept him in place.

Everything was normal in this specific merchant district until his moving gaze caught the appearance of a woman moving around one of the various shops. She was insanely beautiful, like no other woman he had seen. He found himself enthralled in watching her move around the shop and perform various duties. She was extremely easy on the eyes. He felt himself yearn for an introduction or at least the chance to get to know her. It wasn’t until someone had bumped into him did the man realize he had been staring.

I should probably go.

Though he needed to continue his walk, he felt compelled to enter the shop and talk to her. Shaking his head, his gaze fell to a heavily armored woman standing outside of the store. She reminded him of the phalanx back in Argos. Heavy armor and fiercely tough. Lucien moved across the center of the street, being stopped by the woman at the front.

“Leave the blade with me.” She ordered.

Lucien smiled and quickly untied and handed her the short sword.

She can keep it. Thing could barely be called a sword.

With a nod and small yip from Mangonel, Lucien entered the store. The smell of incense filled his nose and as his eyes adjusted to the light he lowered his hood and pulled down the mask covering his face. Masa looked up from her duties and smiled warmly.

“Hello! How can I help you?” She said, brimming with energy.

Lucien met her gaze for a moment before taking a list from his belt.

“Hello, Miss. I’m looking for some butterfly wings, columbine, and cleansed water. Also if you have a mortar and pestle I could buy, I recently lost mine.”

“Oh? What happened?” She asked, another smile flashed her perfect white teeth.

“Some unfortunate business in the deep desert left me without most of my things. I’ve only recently started work at the palace as a guard.” He explained, placing a hand on his pup's head.

Mangonel was excited to see the woman standing before him. His tail started wagging and he playfully yipped for attention.

“Oooh what a cute puppy! What’s his name~?” She shifted her weight and leaned back from the counter, moving to look through the shop’s collection of alchemical ingredients.

“Mangonel. He’s a rescue. Some circus had him locked up with barely any food or room to move so I just...rescued him.”

With a soft smile he patted Mangonel on the head.

 

[Masahir N'air]

"Aww, how brave of you~" Masahir cooed. "I really wish circuses treated animals better. To see them locked up in tiny cages and starved on scraps of food just breaks my heart..."

She placed the ingredients and a marble mortar and pestle set on the counter and let out a little sigh before reaching forwards to pet Mangonel. The dark pup pushed his nose into her hand and covered her palm in puppy kisses. She glanced up at Lucien through her thick dark lashes and gave a playful smirk.

"So, is this all you need today or...? You said you lost all your stuff in the deep deserts..." She pulled her hand back and wiped it off with an unseen cloth under the counter. "Don't you need supplies or like, a bag even? A canteen?" She leaned over the counter once again to point at a display across the room that was cluttered with variant water and wineskins of all sizes, her more-than-ample bosom easily visible from her red blouse's low neckline. It only helped add to her substantial cleavage situation, which at this point she was certain he'd at least noticed by now.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she caught Lucien's gaze dropping from her face, color springing to his cheeks before he quickly fixed his eyes on some irrelevant product on the wall to her right. Her heart fluttered, a pang of longing followed by a fuzz of slight embarrassment. She couldn't help but find his awkward and flustered blushing cute. And besides, it was hot being desired.

The man blinked a few times and coughed dryly, obviously trying his hardest to be a polite and courteous gentleman. Were her eyes flecked with little orange embers, or was the dim shop playing tricks on him? He cleared his throat with a slight rasp, "ehem, ah- yes. I uh-" he rubbed the back of his neck, "need those things as well, do you happen to have any satchels?"

"Next to the waterskins, yeah. You know we also sell some healing potions? Mama makes them in-house. Not to be nosy or anything, I just noticed that those were the ingredients you picked out. It'd be more convenient that way... Unless that is, you're a paranoid type~" She chuckled softly at the jest before quickly adding in, "I'm joking with you, of course."

There was a way she had with talking, her voice flowed with a mirthful warmth deep in its sincerity. It tempted and lulled, pulling any listener further in with the tantalizing notes of a melody whose lilting grace was only matched by her physical poise. The dancer studied the tall, broad shouldered man as he perused for his new equipment. He was certainly a cutie in her book, a total hottie with his chiseled jawline and eerily bright amber-yellow eyes... Not to mention she had a pretty huge soft spot for a well groomed beard. She pushed a coily raven lock out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Are you new to the guard? I don't recognize you, and I have quite a few close connections... and I'm sure I would remember such a handsome face."

I bet he's strong, none of Uruk's guard or militia are push-overs. Errant sensations flickered in her imagination, a caress here- a phantom touch there, how strong and firm his hands were. A half-dozen daydreams unfolded in her brain, each of them silly or romantic.

WHAM!

Masa jolted upright, eyes wide as she spun around to see what the hell her mom was slamming doors for. Oh. Oh. The small felid woman's eyes narrowed on Lucien, her ears pinned back against her headwrap.

"No. Dogs!"

Masahir felt an uncertain wave of dread wash over her from Lucien's direction. "Mom-", her attempt to speak was in vain. The dark haired guard found himself craning his neck down to look at the petite khajiit, and wondering just how the hell she'd cleared that distance so fast. He raised an eyebrow and looked from the grey leopard to the beautiful desert rose behind the counter. Mom? He raised his free hand to placate the fierce cat, but there was something about the way she glowered at him, a slight snarl curling on her thin black lips.

Lucien fought back a frustrated groan. Not only was this lady a merchant who dealt in silver, but she was also a cat. Could she tell he wasn't entirely a man? "I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to cause a problem-"

"Mama, please," the diva sighed in exasperation. "It's just a puppy, and he's not even getting into anything!"

Ra only twitched her tail, completely unflinching as her dangerously slit silver-blue eyes bore into the beast-man. Her hand snapped up to point past Lucien, a sharp claw pointing directly out the door. "The Golden Sands belongs to Ra'tima-dro, and Ra'tima-dro says that all wolves stay outside." Her displeasure only seemed to make her rasping foreign accent thicker.

Masa rushed around the front of the counter, quick to put herself between her mom and the man in order to plead. “Mama he just needs a few things, please... He lost all his stuff in the desert and had his bag stolen.” She paused for a moment to study her mom’s face. She could point-blank feel Ra’s discomfort, her seriousness so sharp it could slice armor, and she could feel it diminish as her mother stared up at her. A soft, brief spark of warmth flickered within the woman and she relented, lowering her arm.

“Tal, you are a bleeding heart. So naive.”

Masa huffed in indiginance. She certainly didn’t feel as if she were some naive little kid. The Khajiit didn’t bother reacting to her sass and instead looked back at the delinquent man. “Pah, so this one had everything stolen? Ra’tima-dro certainly hopes that dull-claws kept his wits about him enough to not have his purse picked.”

Masahir looked back over her shoulder at the man. Well... he certainly didn’t look like a sleazy drunkard with a gambling problem or anything, plus his Babylonia outfit gave her confidence. “It’s obvious he’s in the city guard, Ama. I’d like to think that King Gilgamesh pays his guards a living wage.”

The shrewd woman took stock of his items, both those on the counter and the equipment in his hands. A sturdy woven hemp messenger bag, a bedroll, a mess kit, a tender box and what was worth about ten days of rations and a numerically matched set of torches, a fifty foot length of hempen rope, a leather waterskin, his mortar and pestle, as well as his ingredients. And the first-aid kit tucked under his arm.

The leopardess gestured towards the till as she backed off. “Ra’tima-dro prays to Jone and Jode that this shopping trip isn’t worth his entire salary. Is this man-”

“Lucien Lockwood, ma’am.” He interjected quickly, taking his chance to get a word in edgewise. It earned him momentary ‘airplane ears’ from the mature woman before she continued.

“Is this one actually good for one hundred and thirty-six silvers, or does he need a payment plan?” Her questing tone was dry and flat, very unamused and skeptical.

Masahir shot him an empathetic look, almost as if to apologize for her mom’s tartness. “If he’s not... you could always give him some work around the shop, right Mama?”

The only response her request got was a deep rasping sigh as her mom rubbed the flat of her nose and clicked a claw against the wooden countertop. “Tal... We will discuss this later. Now,” her slit eyes fell back to the customer, "it is time to pay."

 

[Demetri Malius]

“You end up getting drunk and fucking off to a whorehouse and I am leaving your ass behind.”

Demetri rolled his eyes at Girrick, he hoped that his attitude would change in time, or maybe he could afford a better pilot. Whichever came first.

“I said a small visit, not a night of enjoyment. I had plenty of those back in Karim.”

“Yeah, I’m just saying. Don’t keep us waiting.” The merc grunted before closing the doors.

It didn’t take long for the thief to slink his way out of the port and into the city, quickly covering ground as he took to rooftops and alleyways, putting his acrobatic skill to work. It wasn’t long before he was scouring the markets, passing through with his hooded cloak and leather armor, before he noticed a familiar face.

Ah, Morene. The knochten was clearly guarding one of the many shops next to the large market, scanning the area for threats such as himself. Not that he was a threat now, but thieves had a certain look about them, and he fit the description well. He quickly adjusted his movement to blend in with his surroundings, using the people and stands in between him and Morene to get as close as possible. It wasn’t until he was less than twenty meters away before he began to use shadow magic to blend in with some family that was shopping for food. Morene continued to keep her eyes sharp, but the thief was quick to slip his shadow past her and into the doorway.

The shadow slunk behind a low table, listening in to the conversation as he stayed under the radar. A poor guard who couldn’t even afford the essentials? If the city wasn’t careful their underground would be as bad as Karim’s. Perhaps he should donate to the cause.

The thief sprung up from behind a low table with alchemical ingredients on it, bearing a devilish grin as he nonchalantly walked forward.

“A pity that the local guard is less paid than those he is supposed to deter.” Before he could finish his sentence, Ra’tima’s tail had already puffed up and the Khajiit waggled her finger his way.

“No more dull-claws in my shop! Morene, remind this one why Ra’tima-dro pays her to keep a watchful eye out!”

The knochten’s shadow was already looming over Demetri, her presence towering over the thief.

“No need to be rude, if I had come here to actually steal anything, I would have been gone already. I just wanted to drop in and let you all know that if you ever truly need any of my services, you know you can call. I wasn’t bluffing back on Inverxe when I said I knew how to get things done.”

“And what use would this one have of your service’s dull-claws, Ra’tima-dro has no need for drunkards or manwhores!”

“My offer to you when we had our time in that furnace still stands, maybe it might help you relax.” He jabbed, trying to keep some accountability and charm.

“I can take him out on Uruk terms. Just say the word.” Lucien was much more upright and defensive than before, his instinct kicking in at the possible danger.

“No need, dear guardsman. I instead offer this, perhaps next time you should find a better career.”

A pouch flew through the air at Lucien. The cautious guard opened it open to find twenty pieces of gold. “You are giving this to me? I don’t need a debt.”

“Consider it a gift, and an assurance that you might hesitate if we cross paths again.”

“Deal.” Lucien was quick to hand the pouch over to Ra’tima. “I trust you to count out the change.”

With narrowed eyes, the Khajiiti woman checked the coins and stuffed the pouch with change that consisted only of silver.

“Ra’tima-dro is sure that the guard does not mind their change being silver, yes? Gold is easier on the eyes for this one.” One might say there was a smirk on her face as she handed the pouch over.

Lucien put up a wide smile. “Of course not.”

Masahir could only watch with bated breath at the situation. Two handsome men in the same room with her, and both being harassed by her mother. If only there was a way to keep them both there.

“Alas, I have places to be, and people to meet, yadda yadda.” Demetri slunk past Morene, who never took her eyes off of him. He looked back as he reached the door, “The robot has my number, by the way.” He glanced towards Masahir. “Call me,” he whispered, before a sandal suddenly smacked him on the way out.

The Khajiit seemed furious, staring out the door. “Morene, grab Ra’tima’s sandal.”

 

[Morene Fellon]

“Yes ma’am,” Morene replied after a short chortle. As funny as it was to see Demetri being simply unable to win at anything he did, the guardswoman couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort at how Ra’tima was acting towards her daughter, feeling it was possibly a bit too much.

After shoving Demetri out of the door, Morene turned. With a gentle palm beneath her gauntlet, Morene picked up the shoe, walking over to return it, the Khajiiti woman refusing to put it back on in case she needed to hurl it again. Ra’tima-dro was not finished here. “You,” she insisted, turning to Lucien, “Ra’tima wants that dog out of her store. If nothing else, that is all.”

“Very well,” the lycan said as he furled his brow, almost empathetic to her situation. Not to assume based on appearances, but he figured she had that right in the same vein he had a strange inclination against being around silver. They didn’t know that, though. With that, he took his leave, strolling off towards the door before Morene signalled him over.

“Your sword, sir? You didn’t hesitate to give me this at all, you ought to take better care of it.” She handed the blade over, gingerly holding it with two fingers on each hand. Lucien could tell she cared about that sort of thing immensely, something he couldn’t be bothered with given his schedule. She knew what kind of man he was just by looking at him; Morene had always hoped to never carry herself in such a way that would make her appear so drab. Obviously the man had more to him than he showed in his demeanor, everyone does, but the ‘stoic warrior dealing in death’ look is one the knochten has tried her best to stray from. Morene knew this wouldn’t be the last she saw from him anyways.

“Thanks,” he said back, hesitantly expressing the faintest gratitude. Grasping the short sword by its hilt, Lucien sheathed the blade at his side. The werewolf was certainly doing his dues in making sure Morene’s impressions of him were correct; it was better that way. The customer service wasn’t exactly exceptional either; it’d be nice if there was at the very least a sign saying dogs weren’t allowed in the feline’s storefront.

A little specific though, he thought, giving himself the smallest chuckle he could muster. He got what he needed to treat his wounds at the very least, knowing he was going to survive until the next week at least, given enough luck. Still, there was… something about that girl back there, Tal, if he heard correctly? She knew everything he wanted. Lucien could almost feel that she wanted him to stay a while, but he knew better than to assume such. Maybe he could try his luck back here, get better taken care of for a little while by somebody that presumably cares like that.

Maybe, his mind raced at the thought. Maybe. Either way, it would be dark soon. He’d have to go back to the barracks anyway to treat himself before even thinking about coming back, nevermind his hesitancy on the matter.

As the lycan looked forwards, the sun began to set over the horizon beyond Uruk. Things felt tense, and he couldn’t ascertain as to why. Masahir was right; his paranoia is catching up to him.

---

Later that night, Morene had finished helping Masahir clean up shop, something she didn’t mind doing despite it not being covered in her paycheck in any capacity. Kept her busy, made it less likely for Ra to get upset, and she felt she owed something to the dancer she was employed to protect for some illogical reason; Masahir was nice, so she deserved it.

Good opportunity to chat up the place without her employer present as well. A job quickly stops being bearable when there’s no good people to talk to. As Morene finished stocking the shelves, she continued to listen to the dancer’s voice.

“You think Mama’s too harsh on me?” Masahir tilted her head, leaning on the freshly cleaned countertop. “She’s strict, but never to hurt me,” the starlet contemplated.

“A tad; I understand why, it’s just something I worry will escalate to something hard to work through is all,” Morene eventually responded. The knochten curled her lips, thinking aloud. “And I’m not quite sure how either of us would even go about bringing that up to her.”

“Probably… best not to now, right?” Masa mumbled, trying to look on the brighter side of this, especially feeling a tad more confident in her getting a second opinion of sorts when it comes to these sorts of things.

“Yes, I’d say so. I think I’ve met my quota for harsh conversations to have with somebody else’s mother for the time being,” the knight-errant smiled, distracting from the topic. She clapped her hands together, looking around. “Everything good?”

“I think we can go home, yes!~” Masahir nodded.

As soon as the two women were to head off and leave, there was a rapping on the door, low enough that Masa could barely hear it from across the shop. An uncertain knock that Morene immediately drew her attention towards. With a low creak, the door opened, and the knochten identified who it was about to peek through the door.

She kept herself tense; it was the grizzled man from earlier today, the stoic warrior type. In all honesty, Morene wasn’t sure about how to feel about this man, not getting that particular feeling of danger in her gut that told her this man was worth warding off. If not dangerous, the entire situation felt a tad awkward. Innocuously so. The knochten felt uneasy around this man as he spoke, loud enough for both of them to hear.

“Is Tal here? I can take my leave if you’re busy.”