Arcade had to admit that he was pleased to have found at least marginally engaging conversation at this little soiree. Without holding a much longer discussion with the Zora, he couldn't say that the man was an intellectual equal to himself, it was however clear that at the very least he appeared to be a step above the common dredges of pseudo intellectual rabble that he was so often cursed with entertaining conversations with. It was a rather... refreshing change of pace one might go so far as to say.

A feathered brow arched slightly and a small smirk played at Arcade's features with the Zora offered a hand. He extended his own malice-free hand and gave a firm shake for an appropriate length of time — 1.7 seconds — before withdrawing with a little nod. "From even this brief conversation, it seems reasonable to believe that certain topics that pique our interests overlap. And so it's equally reasonable to assume that we will run into one another again in some place and time." Variables always made for fascinating shake ups within any experiment, and this Zora seemed as if he was a walking variable. Was Arcade a calamity? Perhaps. But something told him this Zora could very well be one himself, should he so choose...

Some people were open books, some only showed a few pages. Arcade was... difficult to get a read on. He clearly held himself with collected and confident air, but it didn't seem to be arrogance. His roving eyes scanned the guests of the room, but didn't seem as if it was with cold calculation. He showed little in the way of overt emotions beyond a slight smile or a pondering furrow of the brow. To say he was unreadable wasn't entirely accurate, but it would certainly take time to read between the lines.

When a flash filled the two's vision, Arcade didn't even flinch, only blinking for a moment when his pupils dilated and returned to their normal size, that golden gaze trailing over to the source of the light with a bemused smirk. "Ahh. The author of the Rumour Mill too, if memory serves. Charmed." the 'mage' replied, dipping his head in greeting in lieu of shaking the Hylian's hand. As Traysi began to ask for an interview, she not only cut her question off but Arcade's reply. Interest piqued, the man followed the trail of the woman's hand. For a brief moment one might notice the Rito's pupils dilate and constrict swiftly before he let out a soft chuckle into his free hand. "Well, far be it from Her Highness to miss an opportunity to partake in an event seemingly designed to lift spirits. Optimism seems to be one of her two most constant companions." he mused as he glanced around, finally spotting where the Queen herself was loo- Is that?... What was the swordsman wearing... The Rito furrowed his brow and cupped a hand to his beak in silent contemplation for a moment before shaking his head. "Ahem. As for the request for an interview, I cannot speak for my acquaintance here, but I myself would not object, depending on the content of the interview in question. However it seems that someone a touch more... famous has caught your attention. So perhaps after you've had the chance to speak with the Queen, mm?"

The man listened, his hands clasped in front of him. The tattered ends of the cowl fluttered in the wind, his long head-fin protruded from the back of the hood and was probably the brightest color on his person aside from the green gem that hung from his neck. The flat, matte surface of the ebony squares appeared carved, and if one observed more closely one would be able to see some kind of writing bore into the black surface of the necklaces, but it was so tightly packed it was easily mistaken for the ridges of the points. His posture was slightly slouched, adding to the imposing air of the costume. The robed Zora raised his gloved hand, pressing his fingers against his concealed face. The wry smirk curling on his features were hidden by the cloth and leather. The wide brim of petasos seemed to unnaturally darken his face, in that one could not pierce it to discern his identity. His chin moved as his jaw instinctively clenched.

The bird's words were familiar. They were much like the words he carried in his youth. It was a dismissive, almost dark denial, of one's own cruelty as one viewed their actions as a chance to observe the forefront of society's corruption through an unbiased lens. That was him once, a long time ago.

A time he has long forgotten...

He held out his hand. "A sentient Calamity." His voice coldly rumbled with amusement. "I must say it is quite the opportunity to meet one. It is too bad we are to conceal ourselves for the purposes of these festivities or I would have requested your name, something I am rarely wont to do." Of course the Rito needn't take his hand, it was merely a coded custom learned from Hylians he couldn't quite shake, even after all these years.

Afterwards he brushed his gloved hands down the front of his robes with a dulled sense of urgency. Crossing his hands in front of him, the Zora leaned forward slightly. Though he couldn't get a sense of the bird's identity, he definitely wanted to peer into his magical competence. Whether he could gauge the bird's skill or not was wholly circumstantial. He wasn't sure if the Goddess' Blessing even had any bearing in this time, or if she was completely forgotten by the stampeding worms that seemed to exist in this time. One his icy treats were done the man debated on picking up drinks. This era was full of unusually tasty things, but it was difficult to pick on just one. He heard there were drinks available, but he had been sober for millenia and didn't want to betray the promises he made to his late wife. His gaze drifted to the side, followed by his head before he leveled with his stiff shoulders, slouch aside. He wasn't fond of bright lights so had to resist taking a step back in search of shelter. He wasn't going to find much in an open ballroom. Grumbling the wizard tugged at the lip of his hood, making sure his eyes were perfectly shrouded.

"...how gauche." What ever was he looking at? Regardless of what it was he wouldn't have offered his hands in any case. That was reserved for the most elusive of prey. The man watched as the reporter jumped from topic to topic. He was gladdened to say that not everything has changed despite the flow of time. He followed her gaze, wondering what had her a titter. He then spotted it as well. "Well, well — who would have thought she'd show up....?"

Sipping one of the dangerously sweet cocktails as she entered, Alyson took a moment to marvel at the architecture, with its grand pillars, its curving balconies crowded with musicians who played in perfect sync, its intricately carved marble tiling stretching outwards. This entire hall alone had to be twice the size of Tarrey Town. That was, unless the smoke and stars swirling around merely created the illusion of extra space.

It all overwhelmed her with a sense of... Otherworldliness. Magnificence. Wrongness... No, no, that wasn't the right word to describe it, even as she wondered what it would do to ancestors who had suffered through the Calamity if they could see everyone here, revelling like everything had been fixed as magically as the theme suggested. Should she and the others even have given in to the appeal of whimsy and wonder? Shouldn't they have pushed for the funding to go towards rebuilding the rest of Hyrule?

Her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. Those weren't Feyranger thoughts. Or the thoughts of anyone remotely grateful. Wasn't this, after all, a celebration of the leaps and bounds the kingdom's recovery had made, a fundraiser for orphanages and schools, a chance for the once-divided people of Hyrule to mingle? Weren't the hosts the same people who were furthering Ashley's career, hence supporting his and Mabel's journey, by making clothing requests? Tonight, they were all meant to have fun, now that such was possible on a wide scale. She wouldn't be the one to ruin such a once-in-a-lifetime night for her friends.

"Anyone want to grab one of those raffle tickets?" she asked, forcing cheer into her voice. "Can confirm that Hebra's a pretty good vacation spot, despite its reputation." She scanned the bunny-costumed staff standing at the walls - only for a new arrival to catch her notice. A Rito-looking woman, with Hylian limbs and elegantly curled hair, had blinked into existence at the bar.

"Did ya see that?" With an awestruck grin towards Mabel, Alyson gestured towards the barkeep, who moved around in a blur of afterimages as if she were some kind of phantasm. If anyone would be fascinated at the sorcery that permeated the place, it was Mabel. "That's one useful trick! It'd sure come in handy on construction sites, instead of having to haul planks around." Maybe, just maybe, she could sweet-talk this staff member into spilling her secrets, using flattery techniques she'd learned from a certain other Rito bartender.

A sudden yelp drew her attention away as Axel unwittingly caught himself a fish - or, more precisely, a flustered Zora with colourful membranes flowing from her head, arms and hips, who'd quite literally stumbled into his path. "You both alright?" Alyson called, rushing over. Thankfully they both seemed unhurt, but the atmosphere of awkwardness reached new heights as Collin gave Axel a knowing look that visibly perturbed him, judging by the dawning realisation in his eyes and the abrupt turn of his head.

Huh, did this have anything to do with the gossip she'd heard from Ashley, about a tiff between Axel and a certain fashion student? In any case, it wasn't her place to inquire into the meaning of those glances. The situation was already uncomfortable enough for him and the Zora alike. Best to leave him to it as he turned his focus away from Collin and his teasing, back towards his soon-to-be dance partner.

"Well, that's one of us who's accomplished their mission!" With a swish of her frilled coat, she headed back towards Ashley and Mabel. "Now for the rest of us to do the same! But first..." She downed what remained of her drink, the alcohol leaving a pleasant warm sensation in her throat and dulling her underlying doubts. "Top-ups are in order."

With that, she followed Mabel to the bar, where the half-Rito stirred drinks that smoked, crackled and glimmered in... rather distinctive ways. Alyson's steps halted. Even though these particular ones appeared new, experimental, she'd recognise sky fruit based beverages anywhere. She knew exactly who delighted in making such, who gladly accepted ingredients she foraged from the floating islands, who often got her to sample the results.

Her eyes grew wide as her gaze rose from the beverages to the bartender. "Sable?!"

---

"Hurry up, will you? The enchantments here don't extend to making food serve itself, you know!"

Grimacing, Micah set to arranging the steaming rock roasts and rock sirloins on cast iron trays as fast as he could. "Nearly done!" High temperatures had a tendency to make Hylians irritable, as he knew from some visitors to Goron City, but the shouting from the other chefs didn't exactly calm his nerves. Once he'd hurriedly sprinkled a dusting of salt and volcanic ash over the grilled snacks to bring out their flavour, he took a large tray in each hand and ducked his head as he stumbled out of the kitchen.

He should have known he'd be stuck doing odd jobs all night - so much for a kitchen assistant role. Eyeing the Blupee ears the other waiters wore, he wondered if he'd get strange looks for his informal clothing and his breaking of the theme. Oh well, work experience was work experience.

He wove through the crowd - no easy feat for someone much taller and rounder than most people gathered here - taking utmost care not to step on any hems of dresses or capes as dancers whirled all around, or get ash on any costumes. Somehow, he made it to the table without incident, setting down the trays with a sigh of relief.

Not that he was out of the Badlands woods just yet. Going anywhere empty-handed would get him glares and possible yells from other staff. Grabbing a smaller empty tray - the food was already disappearing fast - he stacked as many used glasses as he could onto it and headed towards the bar, only to sharply veer to the side to avoid crashing into a Hylian woman clad in a frilled, ribboned coat who made a sudden stop.

It was one of those moments that seemed to stretch into slow motion as every last one of the glasses slid from the tray and exploded into smithereens across the tiles.

"Oh no no no no!!" Micah dropped to a crouch, gathering up the shards, his frantic stare darting around. A chorus of cheers rose up, accompanied by clapping, from a bunch of raucous youths, as if the mishap hadn't attracted enough attention already.

"Is everyone alright?" he called above the noise. "Nobody got hurt, did they?"

Had he really expected everything to go smoothly?

"If that's what happened... It would have been nice if he'd been honest, but I can't say I hold it against him either." Claria took one more look into the distance, where blackness swallowed up the fronds of the forest and anything else that lay ahead. As worrying as it was to find themselves reduced to a trio, both for the Rito's safety and for each other's, they'd all stumbled into more than they'd expected from the start. His having gotten out while he still could was the best possible scenario.

In any case, all the three could do now was focus on their current task. With a nod towards Gao, she tucked her water flask and leftover rations in her backpack, stood, and set to securing the flap of her tent. As Gao busied himself packing up, his attention shifting between his belongings and Sinnie with whom he chatted, she shuffled to the side of the tent, surreptitiously taking the lotion container from the pack and massaging more of the substance into her chafing hands, rubbed even drier from the ropes. Although still set on hiding her discomfort, if she ignored it only for her fingers to start bleeding during a climb or a fight, that would do nobody any favours.

Sinnie, of course, still showed no sign of any such trouble, his sand-coloured scales as healthy as ever. Which, now that he'd explained his origin, made sense. She'd guessed him to be of Ujua descent, but a Zoran resident of the Gerudo Desert? To say that had thrown her would be to put it mildly. It was a testament to his toughness that he could survive in such an arid and unforgiving area, where few of their kind ventured.

"When you say ancient weapons," she said, donning her backpack as she emerged from behind the tent, "are you referring to Zonai ones?" Her words were less pointed than they had been the previous day - if he'd planned to betray her and Gao, he'd have done so while they'd slept - but she kept her distance nonetheless. The zealous messages inked in scarlet all over his scales, as well as the disparaging remarks he'd made about her kind, still set off her sense of caution. As did his casual comment about using deceased enemies as bait. Yes, some level of ruthlessness was necessary for any warrior, she knew that well, but the way this guy spoke... It seemed like he was spoiling for a fight.

Just what exactly did he want those ancient weapons for?

Claria rolled her eyes. "Let's avoid any such encounters if at all possible." Which was rich of her, the living beacon, to say, but at least now they knew where some of the nearby camps were, they could do their utmost to steer clear of any more Yiga shenanigans. Assuming the ninjas weren't doubling down on their vigilance due to two of their soldiers having gone missing, that was.

Attempting to push thoughts of worst-case scenarios from her mind - with limited success, given yesterday's events - she glanced towards Gao, who kept up his air of cheerful confidence. "I'm good to go." The spots running along her arms and head-tail dimmed in their brightness, as did her tightly-folded fins, casting just enough light to see by. "I'll try not to draw attention."

Meanwhile, outside in the Courtyard...

...Malanya was fishing in the fairy fountain.

Or... well... a muscular bear of a man DRESSED as Malanya was there, crouched over the gleaming marble structure and all its shimmering waters. In one large, calloused hand - laden with gold rings and chunky bracelets - he waded a fishing net, careful thought in his slow motions as he observed the numerous wish-slates clinking against its grasp. The assortment of vibrant colours reflected across his painted torso and bulging arms, the dark skin taking on all hues of the rainbow. But he wasn't admiring that.

The amount of slates was sizeable. But was it enough...?

A grumble thrummed in his throat, echoing against the large wooden mask tied over his face. The Beaumonts had been very particular in their request not to hound any of their guests to participate in the events on offer, but that was only if they didn't want to - what if some had forgotten? It seemed odd to Mr.Malanya that something as harmless and promising as casting a wish had been neglected by a substantial amount of the ball's guests.

But then again... given all Hyrule and its people had gone through, maybe it wasn't that farfetched to realise that romanticism was all but dead. Even if some WANTED to make a wish, perhaps caution had stayed their hand: paranoia is how many people survived after all.

BUT-! Just if-! Just maybe even just a handful of guests had simply gotten swept up in the current events and all its magic and had just forgotten, he figured it was worth spreading a reminder.

...

........Somehow.

With jingle and jangle and clickety-clank of various woodchimes attached to his waist-sash and as hair ornaments, Malanya stood upright with a sigh. Manicured talons scratched at his neck, absently clawing at a few of his many scars over a cumbersome, collaring necklace.

A large portion of these old wounds were completely on show and told many a harrowing tale of close calls and scathing blows - with monsters diverse and countless. While the usual bodypaint Gao wore had been modified to match Malanya's tastes, he'd discovered that as a whole that was the general effort of his entire costume uniform: altering his usual wardrobe habits with just a few tweaks.

Comforting, but arguably shamanistic knicknacks had been swapped out for more gaudy trinkets. His mane of dark but silver-streaked hair still wore braids, yet they were fewer and his hair was worn looser, demonstrating the extent of its full length. Instead of a Sheikah garb robed with animal hides, more colourful patchwork textiles flowed from his hips, draping over loose harem pants and straw sandals.

...Gao wasn't sure how he felt about his usual aesthetic being so close to that of the wickedly-humoured but widely-admired horse deity, Malanya. ...But that was a reflection for another time.

There was little time to brood anyway, as an obnoxious telltale squeak-squeak of tight green rubber over chafing, stocky thighs was creeping up on him from behind. Malanya turned to see the middle-aged man in his skin-tight onesie grinning at him, an air of oddly unnerving joviality to his rhythmic mannerisms.

"Weeeeeell, Mr.Malanyaah~? How goes your spoils, hrmmm~?" Tingle clapped his hands together and squirmed with excited delight, attempting to peer around the silhouetted titan of a man who stood in his way. "Many a rupee? Lots of wishes? I see LOTS of tasty, yummy, delicioussss colour!"

"...It could be better." Gao admitted, grimacing a little behind the cover of his mask. By Hylia's grace at least the fairy-fanatic had the decency to cover his well-defined crown jewels with some undergarments. It would've been hard not to stare.

"Oh well now that's not gooood~! Oh dear me... Not good at all." Suddenly Tingle drooped and those ripe red cheeks deflated with him. "I'm not doing so good either, Mr.Malanyaaah. Tingle's sales are very poor - poor indeed!" Shoulders heavy, back hunched, with a squashed lil choked sob - that Gao couldn't tell was genuine or not - he threw his head into his hands. "The raffle ticket sales are BOMBING! KA-BOOM!!! SPLOOOOSH!! Right to the bottom of the Necluda Sea!"

Well now Gao just felt bad.

Chest tightening with a twinge of guilt at judging the man so harshly - and on such surface details - Malanya extended a hand and hesitantly gave Tingle's quivering shoulder a few tentative pats. Ew. It was damp. Why was it damp? Had he fallen into one of the ponds while trying to catch the mechanical fairies...? That'd explain the brief ruckus he heard a few minutes ago. Odd, how even the machine variants of the magical creatures avoided the man.

"Don't give up yet, mate." Malanya encouraged. "Have you tried heading inside? That's where almost everyone is now." Spare a handful of doting, affectionate couples who he grimaced in second-hand embarrassment at the thought of Tingle harassing. "Who knows, maybe some of the other staff have already collected a bunch of ticket sales. Besides, with a few of your usual tric-...magic shows, I'm sure you'd catch some eyes.

"C'mon, let's head in together."


Meanwhile, inside the Ballroom...

The heavy, philosophical conversation Nex and Arcade were absorbed in was abruptly interrupted by a BRIGHT flash and a mechanical whir of turning gears. As if that wasn't distraction enough a giddy little yelp of delight followed.

"Hehe, fan-TASTIC! That Lady Purah really is a most generous genius. What a wonderful contraption!"

It was an-... Octorok?

Bouncing atop an inflated, camouflaged head bobbed a rusted treasure-chest. Assumedly it was empty, or at least a hollow cast of one...? Nonetheless two goggly, blue eyes lollygagged every which way, as the young woman's true hands clutched between dangling tentacles a peculiar, chunky box fitted with a large lens.

"Brilliant!" The Hylian exclaimed once again, almost jumping on the spot. Looking up now at the two memorable guests she promptly leapt right into complimenting their outfits, "As if your ensembles weren't already creative enough to add to my article, this tense discussion you were having really brought the picture together - what a mysterious composition it makes! Ooooh the questions! It'll really get my readers' thoughts racing.

"Oh, that's right! My name is Traysi, by the way! Leading Journalist and Head Editor of the Lucky Clover Gazette. I'd shake your hands but they're a little-... full." Protectively she pressed the pictograph box to her chest. Plus, as enthralling as her company was, she wasn't particularly fond of the idea of touching Malice-infected feathers or ominous scales - even if they really were just costumes. It was important that a professional kept some professional distance after all!

"Perhaps though, you two fine gentlemen would be open to the idea of an intervi- OH!!! WAIT!!! IS THAT-?!!" Almost squawking with shock, she jabbed a dramatic finger directly between Nex and Arcade. Riiiight aaat..... the Beaumonts? No. Not quite. The saccharine couple had parted ways after the conclusion of the first dance. Now they had different partners.

"No way..." Traysi pressed a glove to her lips, hushing her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not seeing things, right...? That IS-"


Meanwhile, upon the dancefloor...

"I must say, Your Majesty, I was rather surprised by your choice of outfit but you wear it beautifully." Honey-sweet but gentle, the Countess teased the regal vai in her grasp as she spun her in waltzing circles. Through all the glitter of golden embroidery, the swirl of luxuriant silks and glistening scales, it was almost as if - for a second in an observer's rampant fantasy - Dinraal had captured a princess of her own.

"Thank you." Zelda humbly accepted, blushing a little above her royal blue veil but taking it all with ease and grace. "Admittedly I was concerned that it would be-... inappropriate. But Chief Riju assured me the complete opposite."

The Queen paused then, remembering with great fondness the innocent excitement which had possessed the Gerudo monarch in that moment. It felt cruel then to rob her of an opportunity to just enjoy being a child, troubled over peaceful trivialities like attire or what lipstick to match with this necklace. The weight upon Riju's shoulders was immense, and she had exceeded the expectations placed upon her with remarkable strength. But still... she was so young. As easy as it was to forget that at times, the bedroom full of sandseal plushies was a stark reminder. "She prepared this outfit for me herself." Zelda elaborated. "It is a joy to have an opportunity to wear such beautiful garments. I have always admired Gerudo culture."

A thoughtful hum chimed against the Countess's smile. Her Sheikahn eyes glinted with a sharp wit of mischief. "...Is that truly all?"

As they swept through another series of twirling strides, she gave a pointed glance towards the direction of her husband and his new partner. The shorter than average soul was also sporting a Gerudo garb, and given their flowing blonde hair and the billowing curves of the fabric's structure... it would be easy to mistake him for a Hylian vai as well.

Queen Zelda cleared her throat, collecting herself.

"I-... Well, yes. In truth I did make a special request of Link."

The Countess perked an eyebrow, restraining the urge to laugh as the monarch in her grasp fought valiantly to maintain a noble countenance. She gave her time, instead distracting herself with amused adoration as she watched Count 'Farosh' teach the Knight the dance's steps. Stiff as the Hero was, awkward for lack of practice, he was not at all clumsy and appeared to be learning quickly. The skilled footwork of a championed warrior was no doubt coming in handy. And for all of the Count's hearty guffaws, it was clear he was taking the endeavour of teaching just as seriously.

"When Chief Riju told me of Link's... adventures in Gerudo Town, and the challenges he overcame there, I admittedly wanted to see the outfit for myself." The Queen sighed a little then, perhaps with regret - should she really have risked Link being ridiculed by the public like this...? - but the Countess gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"-So you decided to keep him company with a show of camaraderie." She concluded for her.

Zelda smiled. "Yes. Precisely that."

The Countess then spied - from the corner of her crinkled eyes - a peculiar Octorok squirming through the crowds, wading this way and that, before popping out right above only to swoop down below. BUT-! With a deft hand and quick turn, she ruined the journalist's next shot. "Well I, for one, think he makes a very pretty vai." She laughed, the sound rich and deep. "As do you, Your Majesty. It warms my heart - truly - to see you both able to enjoy this ball in the way it should be enjoyed.

"You both more than deserve tonight."


Meanwhile, upon the orchestra's balcony...

...A golden fox of a man had manifested, nimbly sweeping through the neatly organised chairs and stools of hardworking musicians. Ink-dipped tails wove between plucked strings and pounding drums, the clacking rhythm of his tall, wooden geta blending in harmoniously, until eventually he found a suitable spot in which to settle: directly behind Carmine.

The lutist Rito had found an empty stool positioned within a group which-... had no group. While much of the orchestra had banded together with familiar companions, the area in which Carmine was employed comprised of talented individuals who were accustomed to more solitary performances. To his left sat a Gerudo elder with bejewelled hair as tall as her years were many, knobbly fingers expertly fingering the wooden wind instrument they called a pungi. While to his right a middle-aged man, comfortably clad in the insulating furs popular amongst Stable staff, whistled into a horse's popular favourite - an ocarina.

Seiran was not here to play music. In fact, the only noticeable 'instruments' upon his gleaming-gold person were two very obvious - but sheathed - swords. One was much larger than the other, and the Sheikah habitually adjusted them as he took a seat in the back, largely obscured by Carmine's plumage and proud stature but still able to overlook the ball's festivities with relative ease.

"Excuse me, gentlemen and gentlefolk," The Keaton whispered, throwing them a dashingly sharp grin. "Do not mind me." His crimson gaze was already scouring the crowds below. "...I just need to rest my feet for a while."

It wasn't time yet.


Meanwhile, down in the Beaumont Estate's kitchen...

...Malanya popped his head around the furthest back doorway.

He had managed to lose Tingle amongst a group of 'fashionistas' who had a lot of pointed inquiries about his "impactful" outfit, notebooks ready and all, the poor sod. (Or perhaps, poor them.) Given the heavy mushroom inspired theming of their own costumes, they were no doubt part of CeCe's crowd. He was pretty sure he had spied the lady herself not far from them, sporting a more luminous Depths-inspired ensemble while in rapt discussion about beetles or demi-train worms or something...

Regardless, the kitchen was alight with Din's fire, running at full power to continue churning out freshly cooked plates to replace countless emptied ones. Blupee waiters weaved in and out as if gliding across a racecourse of ice, dropping off dirtied dishes, inquiring after the status of pending orders, and then swiftly collecting what had been left ready to whisk back out to the hungry masses. As predicted, the easier to eat finger foods were a popular favourite. Despite the fumes, the heat, and all the swarming bodies with their raised voices and sweaty palms handling both cast irons and blades, these soldiers worked together like a well-oiled machine. A machine Gao really shouldn't interfere with huh...

Stuck between the pangs of nostalgia and odd sense of longing, it took the man Malanya a moment to recollect himself and get back to work elsewhere. Besides, Micah was in there. And by the looks of the steaming slab he had been stationed at and the pile of assorted rock dishes beside him, the Goron was hard at work himself. Gao grinned to see him so much in his element, ablaze with sincerity and dedication.

Where to now though... that was the question.

He had initially struck off approaching Miss Sable, as her bar was already collecting a crowd. Yet by the looks of things, he didn't really have many other options did he...? At least the familiar faces he spied at her counter were unlikely to recognise him. Especially considering the light scar he'd obtained from that Yuletide Festival was thoroughly covered by his loose mane.

...It wasn't possible to recognise a man by his chest, was it? It wasn't as if Gao was topless in his usual day-to-day life. Besides, even if Claria was also on the staff payroll tonight, their allocated jobs were so drastically different they had never been briefed together.

Regardless, he chewed upon a licked lip and braced himself with a deep breath. Manoeuvring through the crowds he eventually got where he needed to be, making sure to stand off to one side and wait for an appropriate moment to interject his own request to the barwoman. Even if the very capable businesswoman - and her intriguing interpretation of a half-Rito, huh - didn't recognise every member of staff, the vibrant, sky-blue handkerchief tied around his bulging bicep would clue her in. All the Blupee waiters wore one also, though usually as a cravat or a bowtie. Apparently some of the silvered Beaumont family crests upon them had been hand-embroidered by Ciel Beaumont herself!

"Sorry for the interruption, Ma'am." Gao whispered, purposefully lowering his voice as he leaned across the counter for extra privacy. He had no reason to shield his mouth - given the giant horse mask already obscuring it - yet still he habitually did. "Could I make a request...?

"I'm after a large platter of-... hmn, palette-cleansers." He decided after a thoughtful pause. "If you need any extra ingredients or help in general, let me know though. The last thing I want is to overwork you if things are already too busy as well." Briefly, his liquor-red eyes swept across Claria, Ariadne and Mabel, only to quickly avert his gaze back to Sable.

Gao grimaced at Claria's remark, lips twisted into a wry but resigned smile. Ekik had been on his mind too: one of many imagined culprits whenever he caught wind of a strange sound throughout the 'night'. The Depths echoed with a myriad of peculiarities, the stagnant and hollow environment magnifying every rustle of weed, tap of iron or shuffle of loose rock. He'd heard the distant whirring of a Yiga's aerial machine, but no clicks of talons or a flutter of feathers. At least, not while he'd laid awake.

"I don't blame the guy," The Sheikah remarked, chewing on a piece of the offered dried kelp. The taste reminded him of home. "In fact I'd rather his absence be out of choice, not-... any other unfortunate circumstances."

Gao wasn't one to reprimand someone for prioritising their own self-preservation. Unless - or, Hylia-forbid, when - any evidence of foul-play was discovered... or their own safety put at jeopardy as a result. It did leave him with a tinge of regret that such an interesting individual had only been with them so briefly though. An intellectual sort too. Their discussions could've been very enlightening.

"We'll keep a look-out." Though the instant those words left Gao's lips his voice faded, nostrils crinkling. He'd just remembered the mushroom-addling incident from their initial encounter: ...surely the fungi wouldn't STILL be affecting the Rito... right? That was a troubling thought. Many a wagoner had been warned against steering while drunk, but what about FLYING while under an influence...

Gao shook his head free of such concerns.

Clearing his throat and taking one last hearty swig of water, he brushed away some crumbs and began packing away what rations remained of his breakfast. He'd happily have demolished far more than what he had, but who knew how long they could end up down here for.

"Since neither of you feel strongly either way, let us head South then." He decided for the group, standing up with a heave and a ho and a dramatic clap of his thighs as if to punctuate that statement with some authoritative gusto. He was becoming more like his old man by the minute, eh. "Better the evil you know, and all that." Gao threw another lopsided smile at his companions, but it was a smile nonetheless.

In truth, there had been more to the decision than that. Strive valiantly as she did to cater to her own physiological needs when her current means were so meager, the scholar had nonetheless noticed Claria's growing discomfort. Not that the South was expected to hold some vast oasis, but he'd rather not dehydrate her further with another - unnecessary -  taxing climb. (You wouldn't catch him dead speaking that out loud though! He knew well a warrior's pride.)

Sinnie was another story however. One which made a whoooole lot more sense now that some more background had been shared.

Despite carefully observing him, the hulking and unusual specimen of a Zora had shown no signs of deterioration: on the contrary he almost seemed to be thriving in this rugged terrain. Given that he hailed from the Gerudo Desert of all places, the Depths probably felt like a casual stroll. Ha!

Odd, yes, for a Zora to be native to that region of all places. But Gao believed it. In fact, Gao had a LOT more questions to ask and a whole notebook to fill on the subject while he was at it. Given his active occupational interest in studying unique species (broadly referred to as 'monsters'), the Sheikah's curious intellect had been thoroughly piqued by this revelation. Not that Sinnie was a monster.

But... maybe he'd pry another time. It had taken a great deal of effort, time and patience to squeeze out even that information. (Though Gao suspected, from the Zora's choice of language, that there had simply been some sort of communication error - laughably.)

"I hope for your sake, Sinnie, that our expedition unearths some treasure of your own too - assuming you're still willing to tag along the whole way." He rambled on, shuffling then over to his tent. After collecting a handful of items and a much smaller backpack in which to stuff them, he began tying down the doorway. "I suppose that spirit's halberd was the wrong sort of ancient, eh."

Was he after some Zonai arms...? Some hero - or heroine's - lost, loyal companion? A historical relic told in tribal tales? A golden gleaming treasure bejewelled with riches? Or did the Zora just simply not use halberds. Gao chuckled a little to himself at that last one.

Sharp-toothed, he threw a grin back over his shoulder. "That'd explain why you never did actually rob us. I don't think our equipment is quite that spectacular." An accusation? Perhaps. But the bear of a man just laughed it off in good humour as he continued buckling himself down and strapping up. As if it was ridiculous to even seriously entertain that thought. Unlike some situations before, this statement had not been a veiled or testing threat. Funny how actually knowing was far less concerning than not knowing anything. His imagination had run WILD. But a treasure-hunter or tomb-raider? Ha. Sinnie was welcome to it all. This Sheikah's riches were very different in form.

"Right then," Gao turned back to his company, standing tall and ready: hands on his hips and one last piece of jerky rolling between his teeth. (He couldn't help it, OK? A snack for the road never hurt anyone!) "Are we all set to depart? I should be able to move quicker - and quieter - now that I've dropped most of my load off."

Those hands were something. Yuru observed Micah holding the set of chopsticks Papa Collin had provided, taking stock of just how massive those knuckles were compared to his own, and the fingers with a circumference that could cage a grown man's head to squash it as easily as an overripe hydromelon.
A baker's wet dream, a pair of mitts like that, with kneading dough properly being as physically taxing as it often was. It was a stroke of luck that this particular Goron gave the impression to be as gentle as they came. 

The order of sunny pumpkin by Collin specifically for him set Yuru on edge; had the horse not gobbled the sundelions up quick enough for its owner to not catch on after all?
The Yiga would have to be more prudent in his wording, the remark he had made carelessly about the Gerudo ice house a clue to the true identity of the Sheikah with the typically Hebran pitch for the more perceptive individual. But one would be hard-pressed to detect that realisation in Yuru's still relaxed demeanor as he chuckled at Gao's attempts of quickly correcting himself to come off as less crass, or something.

The enthusiasm these two presented around the prospect of making bread was vaguely endearing.

"A cave might work just fine. We won't know until we give it the old scholarly try." Yuru answered Gao, and then turned towards Micah, tickled by being called a connoisseur. The first c-word he'd ever been called in a friendly manner!

"Don't worry, I'll hold your hand every step of the way. With both of mine if I have to," he assured the Goron with a grin.

They'd need to acquire the ingredients first though, and Gao's mention of not getting to eat bread very often possibly spelled trouble.
Did Lurelin not have ready access to flour?

That was not an issue new to Yuru. Nothing would grow on the slopes of Mount Drena, nothing suitable to grind up for flour at least, and his old man would regularly make the dangerous journey to where the Rito roosted and stock up on Tabantha wheat.
When Yuru had come of age, he had eagerly taken that particular part of the family business onto himself.

As lush as the jungles surrounding the seaside settlement were, it was not unthinkable that wheat was hard to cultivate in such a climate.
Yuru was not about to make his tablemates wise to the bunches of bananas that grew rampant all over Faron however, or the concept of banana bread.

He echoed Micah's question aimed at Gao.

"Wheat hard to come by for Lurelin natives then? I figured most anything would grow around here, lush as it is."

Just then, the server returned carrying drinks and assorted plates piled up high with a wide selection of dishes, and set them out onto the table with practiced ease, though Yuru could not resist helping her out with the task.

"Oh look, it has a tiny umbrella," he said as he elbowed Collin in the ribs and motioned at the glass before the Hylian when everything was settled, and turned to the server and shot her his winning smile,

"Thank you, Lani. It looks great."

Girls like that were easy.

Carmine was just getting the hang of the song, the serene rhythm beginning to flow as smoothly as Violynne's, when it proved itself to work as stated. A Hylian rider astride a russet and white horse approached, the mount craning its neck and exhaling with curiosity. As he dismounted, the newcomer minced no words in making his opinion of the tune known.

"He likes your song. But this hardly looks like a scene where such a laid back tune is fitting."

With a click of his beak, Carmine paused his playing, holding back a caustic comment of his own. Best not to render the scenario any more fraught than it already was, no matter how set on doing so this guy seemed. Besides, someone else was quick to call him out on his unneeded sass, a young teal-haired Hylian woman who emerged from the tent and surveyed the damage.

"On the contrary, it's just the song for the situation," Carmine replied, extending a wing towards the horse, putting up the assertive demeanour he used to de-escalate incidents with troublesome spectators. "As you can see, it goes down well with audiences of the equine variety - appears to attract them, even. Which is what you want if you're searching for a horse that's up and bolted."

Violynne, giving another weary sigh, turned her head towards uncle and niece. "If you're wondering what happened, monsters happened. We were lucky to get out unhurt, and our Breezer should be good as new in no time, but our horse, Quaver, is still out there somewhere."

The stablehand by the wheel looked up. "I'll be honest, fixing it up won't take too long, but good as new may not be the most apt description. This old thing looks ready to fall apart if the wind so much as picks up. You sure you don't want us to build you a new one?"

Mastro gave him a stare of pure horror as if he'd just uttered blasphemy. "Whaaaat?! How could we even consider such a thing? Our Breezer is just as much a troupe member as any of us! It's priceless! Irreplaceable!"

While Mastro continued his fervent defense of the rickety old wagon, Violynne let out a soft groan and shook her head, the exhausted slump of her shoulders even more pronounced. "We're good with just the basic repairs, thanks. Anyway..." Her eyes turned back to the blue-haired Hylian, her expression growing hopeful. "You know a thing or two about horses, so you wouldn't be able to help us out if you have the time, would you? We'll recompense anyone who finds her."

"If you're up for that, company's always welcome!" Carmine chimed in. It'd make the whole not-letting-the-troupe-down thing a whole lot easier, especially if said company had experience with horses... so long as he didn't make any more uncalled-for quips. "Grey and white, black mane, red and black saddle. I'll keep a look out overhead." He adjusted his lute strap and resumed strumming Epona's Song, making sure he'd memorised each note.

Eustus, once he'd plucked the final arrow from the weathered planks of the Breezer, shuffled over. "Here, this should make things easier." He reached into his jacket pocket and held out a swift carrot. "Between her favourite song and her favourite snack, approaching her shouldn't be too much of a challenge."

With a flourish of her pen, Mabel marked the location of the latest cave she and Ashley had explored on the map spread out before her. She did so not with the little heart symbols she liked to dot her script with and that she had gotten really good at drawing on account of all the letters she had sent off to Kakariko over the years, but with a frowny face. Well-deserved, she thought with more than just a little indignance.

This exploration had turned out a dud, just like all the other caverns they had ventured to explore. So far one could still count their number on one hand, but Mabel recognized a pattern when there was one, unlike her twin. Who was a tailor. Fancy that.

Ashley was adamant that there had to be a kernel of truth to the rumours he'd picked up along the road from his fellow fashionistas, and insisted they would have to keep checking out every single subterranean monster den or forgotten grotto they would come across.

If those fabled treasures indeed were hidden in gloomy, dank caves all over Hyrule by some legendary thief, shouldn't there be a way to tell them apart from the regular gloomy, dank caves?

Mabel looked up from her ponderings, glancing at the siblings' travel packs sitting expectantly against a beam in a corner of the roadside safe haven. She reminded herself not to forget to take their swimwear off their make-shift clothesline before they hit the road again.

Bloodleaf Lake had made for a welcome diversion from musty caves and red herrings -herrings being saltwater fish after all- the day before, but the impromptu pool party was ended by a massive thunderstorm rolling in from the east. Akkala's weather had proven to be terribly temperamental. Zzzap!

A vague annoyance drove Mabel to fold up the map and stand, and she wondered just how long he was going to make her wait. She wasn't about to go and look for him just yet.  How far could he have gone, anyway?
Shortly before Ashley had gone missing from the stable, he'd been animatedly chatting with some other traveler staying at the stable, and it wasn't unthinkable they had gone for a stroll together. Possibly the aforementioned traveler knew something about Misko, and was pointing Ashley into the right direction. Something like that. She respected her twin's privacy.

While she waited for Ashley to return, she set out to pack up their swim clothes and moved from the Stable's tent onto its outside premises, only to be greeted by the aftermath of some mishap involving the Stable Trotters and their wagon.

A Rito decked in rufous plumage and carrying a lute was engaged with... Uncle Lin?! Although his back was turned to her, it was unmistakably her family member, even if the big butt of his beloved Fox standing beside him almost obscured him from her view. As she approached her uncle to languidly slink an arm over his shoulder, she interjected into the ongoing conversation, taking care to keep it out of earshot of the troubled troupe. She had caught that thankfully no one got hurt.

"I know you're not their biggest fan, but was that really necessary, unkalin?" she muttered, taking stock of the damages.