Desert Homecoming [Open]

[Chaosome]

Blistering days and frigid nights, sandstorms, roving Lizalfos. For many, the Gerudo Desert was considered a dangerous, desolate landscape. Those who called it home however knew how to live with the dangers of the land and thrived there. Only the deepest reaches of the desert where the Moldugas roamed, and further beyond into no-man's land, were truly considered completely inhospitable by the inhabitants of Gerudo Village. Almost no one was foolish enough to traipse their way out there, well save for perhaps the Royal Swordsman, but everyone in Hyrule knew Link to be a special case.

Which is precisely why it came as no surprise when a sentry swore up and down they had seen someone traversing their way out of the deep desert they were first asked if it was a blond swordsman, after which they were then given the rest of the day off and ordered to lay off the cactus juice during their shift. But when a second and third sentry later in the day confirmed that, yes in fact, there was someone approaching from the far west, a great deal of confusion was had amongst the ranks...


The journey had been long, and not without its fair share of difficulty. Jamil could certainly understand why the tales of their peoples' exodus was so harrowing at times! There were moments where he wondered if the homeland still stood. But after several days and nights of journey, there it was. A shining jewel in the desert. The young Gerudo breathed a sigh of relief even as their heart fluttered with excitement. It took a few hours more for them to finally make their way to and through the main gate of the village where once more their breath was taken by not only the beautiful craftsmanship or the bustling marketplace, but the sheer weight of history they could feel in nearly every grain of sand. Had the village changed much since their ancestors last sat foot here? Or was this how they would've remembered it? Many questions wandered through their mind as they took in the sights.

Their wonder, however, left them a touch oblivious to the stares — curious or otherwise — that they were receiving themselves...

[Rex Draco]

It had taken many days, but Nex had eventually arrived in Geurdo Town by way of a caravan. The Zora leisurely rode in the covered back with his gear piled beneath him like a rolled futon, reminiscing in memories that were so far gone, they may as well have been vivid dreams riding on the back of a cracked pipe. At his age he could no longer partake in the sagely practices that helped clear his mind from putrescent nightmares that plagued him, but it has been overlong since he's seen such amenities being offered in the back of these old taverns.

The Zora had come in search of Spicy Peppers. While it was hardly an isolated commodity found in select locations, the species that sprung up across Hyrule Fields were mild, at best. He needed Spicy Peppers with a good kick to them: enough power to light the most mild objects ablaze. The best place to find that was the desert, but the Zora wasn't about to go prancing around the hot, rolling dunes of Gerudo Desert for a tasty treat, at least that was what the caravaner had assumed. He felt that if Nex wanted something spicy that the Hylian variants of the plant would do for a quick meal.

In lieu of chasing it around the desert, the Zora hoped someone would bring it to him, so: he set up a stall in the market place. It had been many years since he played shopkeeper, but the role had its uses. The man had covered the sides of his stall with a heavy linen tarp in order to keep at bay the blistering sun. He was lounged back on his supplies, using them like a bean-filled chair. He fanned himself with a spare shoe, as he had nothing else at hand. His stall had numerous pieces of hand-made jewelry for trade. The pieces were made from oceanic coral in a chromatic range of hues from deep red to a vibrant opal. He was dressed in folds of leather, a thick, blue cloak slung across his back with the hood pulled over his head. He was covered in cloth from head to toe, his boots caked with dried sand and mud. On his hip was an old looking sword that was a brilliant pink shade, the weapon's holster a simple clip on his belt.

The Zora raised his cerulean gaze. The strange looking lass wandered about like a fish out of water. "Hey, lookin' to trade?"

[Emily]

By the sun and moon, she served.

Draped in the flowing white finery of their station, Nephthys and sister Iset crossed the sands. They travelled by foot, each step a prayer, each grain of sand a blessing from the goddess. They passed the time in silence, hands clasped together beneath the folds of their gowns. The crossing was a sacred experience, and they observed the dunes and plateaus around them with placid serenity, nothing but joy in their hearts.

By the sun and moon, she served.

Between them, a sand seal pulled an empty sled, upon which they would place the victuals and supplies gathered from Gerudo Town. The sand seal matched their pace, a fully-domesticated creature perfectly created for the sand. A sacred beast, in that its labour joined with theirs in the worship of the goddess, and its body would sustain the faithful. For now, however, it served its purpose in much the same way they all did.

By the sun and moon, she served.

The ancient walls of Gerudo Town rose up before them. Somewhat less sturdy than they had seemed a mere handful of years prior, before the profane dead had risen from the sands and attacked. Divine retribution for the blessed Gerudo, who had turned their eyes and hearts away from her radiance, the desert, and joining in that blasphemous religion of the Hylians. It was upon the appearance of her great ziggurat, upon the discovery of underground ruins and ancient statues, that her sisters had their eyes opened, their hearts awakened. Only their small, dwindling number had kept the tradition, then much deeper in the desert. Surviving off shrivelled weeds and the strange necromancies of those who lived in the wastes.

By the sun and moon, she served.

Two curiosities within the walls today. Once located, her eyes could not leave the strange creature dressed in colourful clothing, like a desert vai. The level of their comfort in these clothes, the tint of the skin, the jewellery. This did not seem to be any Hylian tourist, taken with the warmth and beauty of their landscape. Her eyes flashed. Could this be? And along with them, a cerulean-coloured reptilian, not the lizalfos who infested the region, but instead one of the rarely-seen Zora. Perhaps here to pay respects to the oasis font? With a meaningful glance toward sister Iset, she broke away, leaving them to begin the week's resupply.

"Sav'aaq," she said to them, her eyes on the various jewelled iconography on display. "Greetings and welcome."

[El]

The acrid, sickenly sweet stench of a corpse permeated the hot air: Fajar was meditating. Well, that's what the observing sisters had decided she was doing.

Seated cross-legged with her hands balanced upon her knees, the fossilised sinew of her palms could almost be seen sizzling as they baked in the harsh Gerudo sun. They were faced upwards, a subtle curl of the clawed appendages evoking the cradled basins of oil lamps. No breath stirred her form. Closed were her eyes, though even in their self-inflicted darkness a subtle glow illuminated through the thin skin of her eyelids. Behind her, below her, all around her rushed the noise of flowing water, for she was perched on a high corner of sandstone, like a cursed gargoyle that guarded the southern side of the palace's stairs.

Then there came an errant breeze, sweeping through the palm trees. Her bangles rattled against her shackles. The dangling earrings fluttered against her rotting cheeks. The chickling vai were playing loudly, giggling through the winding streets.

A familiar scent. A rare one.

No, it was not the land-walking fish that made her nostrils flare so: to actively draw in a scent was to enjoy it.

Priestess Nephthys.

A smile played upon Fajar's lips but the boiled skin had sealed closed, the golden lipstick crackling and peeling when tension pulled at the long-slumbering sinew at its corners. Her eyes opened - just a slither - a seeking gaze that appeared to strain against something incredibly intense.

Her efforts were not in vain. There she was.

She was in the midst of a discussion however, her two partners illuding Fajar's recognition. It would be rude to interfere.

Instead the gargoyle's gaze dragged itself aside, a slow and cumbersome crawl about the rest of the bazaar. A wheezing sigh rattled in her chest. Whatever she had sought, she did not find. But she knew they'd be there - somewhere.

With great effort and timeless patience, Fajar began to arise, her bones creaking as they unfolded.

[Chaosome]

Even with all the questions swarming in their head about the past, the present heartened them greatly. To see this place, the center of their homeland, not just still standing but thriving! To see so many faces filling its streets and shops! They couldn't help but to fetch their quill and parchment and begin to sketch and note all that they saw. Jamil had promised to document everything of interest from their homeland and Hyrule as a whole, and what better place to start than the Village itself? They shared similar architecture, of course, and much of the colourful fabrics and little details that helped a desert village thrive also rang familiar. Of course there were differences too, patterns and colour choices differed, some decorative symbols saw more use here than there. Not to mention-

"Hey, lookin' to trade?"

A voice cut through his thoughts like a river through the dunes and drew their attention away from a particularly well crafted fountain nearby. It took them a moment to realize it was in fact they who were being addressed, a look to the left and the right confirming as much. With a bow of their head the turned their attention towards the merchant. He was covered from tip to toe in leather and fabric, but what details did show painted him to be a Zora. A rare sight in their home village, but was it as uncommon here? "Sav'aaq friend, I admit I do not carry much in the way of trade, but I have some rupees yet to spend." Oh... perhaps they should've considered that there might be another currency at play in Hyrule... Either way, their voice was bright and mellifluous, clearly delighted to speak with a native to Hyrule!

They stepped closer to the Zora's stall to get a look at just what sort of wears the Zora had. Many of the Zora near home tended to use a lot of shell and bonework in their crafts, did that differ here? It was then though that another voice added to the chorus. Something about the way the woman carried herself had an almost otherworldly sense of grace and authority. But Jamil couldn't place a finger on exactly why... Whatever the case was, they smiled from behind their veil and gave a respectful bow nevertheless. "And warm greetings to you as well, sister. I am Malika, it is an honour to make both of your acquaintances." They looked between the merchant and the new arrival. Oh how wonderful! Not just a native Hyrule Zora, but someone from the Village as well! What oases of knowledge would quench Jamil's thirst today?

So caught up in their greetings and excitement, they didn't register a third gaze pass over the gathered group. Chalking up the slight chill they had to the brief breeze that rolled through the village.

[LuckyBlackCat]

As Micah shuffled past the stalls of Gerudo Town, anticipation and nervousness welled like a sandstorm growing ever more chaotic.

A stone archway beneath purple awning ahead revealed the communal kitchen, fully equipped with pots and pans. After a travelling Gerudo had told him about a cookery class she used to attend here, led by a Ms. Ashai, he'd had to make this town his next stop. Besides, for a Goron chef who sought to accommodate all manner of visitors, learning of this province's cuisine would be essential, many of the traders who ventured to Eldin's mountains being Gerudo. And in truth, he could use a good nourishing meal himself from the desert quarries, as evidenced by his belly that had begun to shrink from its healthy roundness, his carapace that grew brittle. One could only live on flints for so long.

Hunching his shoulders, he squeezed through the doorway to find a lone old lady sitting cross-legged in the corner, raising her heavily bejewelled head. "Hey... I mean, sav-aahck!" The elegant pronunciation of greetings in the Gerudo tongue eluded him. "Would you be Ms. Ashai? I'm here to sign up for the cookery class."

The Gerudo gave an apologetic shake of her head, the chains in her hair jingling. "I'm Nellie, and I'm afraid that class stopped a while ago. Ashai's so busy with her Voe And You lessons as of late, she's decided to focus entirely on that. But this kitchen's still open to anyone who wishes to use it."

"Goro..." Micah's posture slumped. He didn't blame the teacher for wanting less on her plate, so to speak, but professional mentoring would have been nice, rather than having to muddle through on his own. Still, the public kitchen and its recipe books meant it hadn't been a wasted journey. "Well, that's kind of her at least. Does that include the cookbooks, or are they yours?"

Nellie gestured to the open book on the floor in front of her. "Go right ahead. They're not mine, they're technically hers, but everything here is for public use."

Bending down, Micah picked up the cookbook and flicked through its fragile pages with utmost care. "Aurie Taamu..." He'd heard the name of the famous Hylian chef on his travels, apparently one of the best in the land, but this was the first time he'd actually read his writings. So he would have quality guidance, in a way.

"If you want my advice," Nellie continued, "Fragrant Mushroom Sauté is a good one to start with." A wry smile played across her wizened face. "A completely selfless suggestion, of course. Not that it happens to be my favourite or anything."

Micah's chuckle carried a slight note of panic. He'd just about learned to grill mushrooms without making them too leathery, but frying things without making them stick to the pan was another matter. "I can certainly try!" He set the book back down. "This calls for some stocking up of supplies."

Once he'd bidden Nellie another clumsy sav'aaq, he headed out into the sun-baked street. Stalls under colourful tarpaulins bore all manner of foods, among other products. The many scents rising through the air, sweet, spiced, savoury, would have made his mouth water - he'd developed quite a taste for the realm's various meals - if not for an underlying stench of rot. Discarded meat gristle spoiling in the desert heat? It still dismayed him how quickly most non-mineral snacks turned.

The stall that caught his eye in particular wasn't a food one, but instead displayed accessories carved of a brilliant red crystal he hadn't seen before. It wasn't so much the wares themselves drawing his attention as their vendor. Even with the heavy robes and hood that obscured most of the man's form, Micah recognised the sea-blue scales of his face at once.

"Oh hi Nex! Didn't expect to see you here of all places!" No sooner had he blurted out the words than he raised a knuckle to his lips as if to stop any more from escaping. Just because he hadn't known any Zora to visit Death Mountain, that didn't mean he'd had to go and make assumptions about what environments they could and couldn't tolerate, much less voice them. He mentally scrambled to change the subject. "Uh... That's some nice stonework there!"

And now he'd have to buy something. He couldn't say that and walk away empty handed, even if the rupees he'd earned from his stint as a farmhand in Kakariko Village were starting to run thin. He'd have to look into odd jobs here, or set up a stall of his own, assuming anyone took interest in the few basic snacks he'd gotten the hang of. He inched to the side, waiting for Nex to finish serving the two Gerudo before him.

[Rex Draco]

Nex had closed his eyes and continued to fan himself with what appeared to be a spare shoe. A long, long time ago he had lived the simple life of a merchant. He traveled from region to region, pulled by a haggard horse in a dilapidated, covered wagon. He was not an unprosperous merchant that he traveled in a worn down cart with a beggared horse, but he had wanted for little. All that travel sometimes necessitated having supplies to fend off starvation or burned flippers, so the Zora often carried on his person a spare pair of boots or extra food just in the case he found himself stuck in a deep, dark, and dank cavern somewhere so deep in the woods one could hear the rattling of seeds inside the drum of a hollowed out gourd.

When Jamil's shadow had cast shade over the front of his stall, of course his instincts as a merchant kicked in and he called out to the warm body as it approached. He seemed lost in thoughts, but it was as good a time as any to hail for any nearby persons. Even a stray Sand Seal would have given him directions to a tasty Hydromelon had one stopped by. When the dark-skinned Gerudo stopped and turned their attention to Nex's call, they bid them a greeting and admitted to their wealth.

Rupees.

Nex had never had interest in the shining gems of magic and myth. It was an old proverb of patience that painted a pastoral pastime of cutting grass as one of enduring sufferance. If one spent the time to trim the tall tails of reeds and root, you would be blessed by Farore's fortune to find rupee among the foliage. Since he had no reason to abide by the Wind Goddess' providence he also dismissed the value of the glimmering stones.

Now that wasn't to say he hadn't a rupee to his name. He had what he wanted and needed no more.

"Rupee..." He breathed out and lowered the shoe in order to let it rest on his lap. Bundled up as such he needn't much worry about the desert sun, and his supply of moisture was met by way of his waterskin that he used to support his lower back in such a languid sitting position. "I'd prefer to barter, but if you haven't the wherewithal..." He supposed he could part with a few of his treasures for money.

The coral jewelry was carved using an old technique that was lost to many Zora today, but that was only because the coral he used for his pieces were farmed from the darkest depths of the sea. He was no jeweler, but could decently carve the pieces using a knife and some wire. It kept him busy on long journeys and, to this day, he had never mastered the art. It was a simple hobby that kept his mind roused on the road and his wit as sharp as his tongue.

While he left Jamil to decide on his decision his dark eyes turned to the sisters who greeted with an almost practiced style. The Zora considered the laundry list of lurid responses he could have retorted with, but it was too hot to meddle with the temperament of the local Gerudo. He motioned his hand at the additional arrival of women to his stall.

"...Hm, good day." He wanted to be contrary and rattle the senses of the youths of this day and age, but somewhere along the line he was sure he would have saddened himself were he to wish Nayru's Wisdom upon them.

It was a scarring irony that her Wisdom was both forgotten and lost to this day and age.

"I have wares, if you have something interesting. Rupee would do, but I'd prefer something more interesting. After all these are all rare and valuable crafts fashioned by way of an ancient technique from rare materials from deep in the ocean. You can't find them anywhere else." Not a whisper of a lie on his slimy tongue. 

It was not soon after that a booming voice bumbled in with a rather bawdy comment. Now Nex was self-aware enough to understand how queer it was for a Zora to associate themselves with the desert. Honestly just being aware that some segment of his family's descendants occupied the sands unreasonably infuriated him to no end. They had abandoned the sea for a life on land. They turned their backs to Nayru and the bountiful treasure she had provided for them. But it was something he had to put aside for now, at least until he could locate them.

Today he was but a simple merchant, selling his wares to passersby.

He shrugged lightly at Micah's words. "I had visited the desert in my youth. In fact my daughter is a Gerudo, so shouldn't I, as her father, support her on occasion?" He mused in a flat, deadpanned tone. It led one to believe his words were in jest, at best, and hard to decipher at worst.

[Emily]

Her lady's teachings echoing through her mind, Nephthys felt the chill pass over the assembled group. She smiled to herself beneath the cloth folds. The desert brings life as easily as it brings death. The sun, with all of its warmth and light, brought her sisters within the shrine and without, to discuss and trade and work together on great projects. The night, cold and dark, hastened the young and old inside their homes for protection. The living beings blessed by her lady only need reflect within themselves to see that warmth.

The dead, she knew, were also part of her lady's machinations, though they were tools merely capable of spreading that death to others. It would seem, not only to her senses but also to her sensitive nose, that despite the warmth and light, the dark was always close at hand.

"And warm greetings to you as well, sister. I am Malika, it is an honour to make both of your acquaintances." It was difficult to know for certain, even in a situation such as this, but despite never hearing the accent before, no, because she had never heard the accent before, Nephthys felt a swelling excitement. Was it possible? She suppressed the fluttering in her stomach. No matter what the answer turned out to be, she would have to remain emotionless and serene. There would be hunters.

"The honour is mine."

The arrival of yet another visitor caused a soft laugh to bubble in her throat. Though Gerudo Town saw significantly more Gorons than Zora within its walls, there was no small amount of delight in seeing such a diverse crowd. And though the Zora's coral jewellery was quite pretty, his wish for barter over mere payment was disappointing. "I had visited the desert in my youth. In fact my daughter is a Gerudo, so shouldn't I, as her father, support her on occasion?"

That, however, caught her attention. "A pity," she declared, voice neutral, "we keep few possessions. I foresee your fortune, however. There are many great treasures within the city I'm certain could be traded for your wares."

She stepped slightly away from the group to allow others room for approach, and turned to the Goron. "Sav'aaq, friend. What brings you to the desert?"

[El]

C-CRACK went the ancient tile, splintering in a cobwebbed shatter beneath the hard strike of an emaciated foot. Fajar had not braced herself for impact - she had no need to. No change in posture. No shift of stride. She'd simply dropped, stepping directly off her looming perch in an abrupt plummet.

Unperturbed by the (suspiciously absent) consequences of gravity, the vicious assault on her ears did however cause her to more tentatively rest down the claws of her second foot: completing the stride's landing with laborious delicacy. A withered breath sighed from the recesses of her throat. Mournful, she gazed down upon the destruction settling in her shadow.

A pair of Gerudo soldiers stationed nearby had exchanged alarmed looks, and were in the process of telepathically debating how to handle the situation (via a variety of exaggerated eyebrow contortions and rapid chin jerks) when... she moved again. Downwards Fajar leaned, with a creak and crack and whine of taut tendons and grinding joints. Between her claws she plucked the largest of the floor's shards. With tangible effort she straightened upright once more, lips pressed in solemnity.

"Tomorrow."

That was all she said. That simple word rasping from her deflated lungs and ending the silent debate of panic close by. One of the sisters had finally bit the blade and approached her only to stand there in baffled pause, jerking under the unexpected weight when the piece of tile was passed directly into her possession.

'Tomorrow...?'

The guard glanced up but her colleague atop the palace's stairs just shrugged. And now she was left stood there with a cumbersome chunk of debris in her spare hand, the dust settling in a desert breeze and her mind bombarded by tangled nests of questions. ...What exactly was she supposed to do with this?

But Fajar was gone.

Underneath the meagre repose of the linen-awning's shadow, the architect's eyes lingered aglow upon the plethora of coral pieces spread below. Jewellery? Assumedly. Straining, her stare narrowed but the severity of her expression was softened by a subtle shift of her exposed cheeks' musculature. Something akin to a smile shook free a light dusting of pallid flakes, revealing rejuvenating flesh below the baked shed.

"I shall trade." Fajar declared, crouching down upon her haunches to observe at a lesser distance the unique pieces. A flicker of something fond was dancing in memory across her glazed gaze. "What is your desired treasure, voe fish?"

[Chaosome]

Ah! It seemed that the Zora's stall was a popular one! How good for him, and on top of that it seemed the Goron knew him personally, what happy little circumstances. Jamil hadn't met terribly many Gorons honestly, the mountains back home could be quite the trek especially in the winter, but they were always a friendly people. The Gerudo gave them a bow of greeting, eyes pinching up in a smile before they turned their attention back to the stallkeeper, who was apparently called Nex. "I do apologize, while I have brought with me a small collection of relics, my goal with them is to seek their repair, and to hopefully learn the process of such." Perhaps that was something they should have considered, that some folk in Hyrule would prefer a barter system. But at the very least the familiarity with Rupees was still there!

Perusing the Zora's wares, Jamil's eyes eventually landed on a rather charming little bracelet, adorned with sapphires and filigree of silver. It was always fascinating to see the different artistic influences and how they differed between race to race, but even more so to see how distance could change things. Was it purely an aesthetic choice that carried down through time? Did it have to do with availability of resources? Perhaps a combination of both, one often did find a greater appreciation for a material and its versatility when it was what you had at hand.

Before Jamil could open their mouth to speak however, a feeling of dis-ease sent a chill down their spine as a deep, rattling voice cut the relative silence.

"I shall trade."

A turn of the head caused a pit in the Gerudo's stomach, though they hid it well. The woman was tall even among Gerudo, but the most striking was how emaciated she appeared. There were creatures in some of the dark depths of home that shared many similarities to her appearance. ReDead, they were called. Tall creatures with brown, shriveled skin, and odd masks of wood. More often than not they were found in ruins or deep caverns. And often they weren't quite the friendly sort. But this was not home, and this woman was... presumably... not one. There seemed to be no panic welling in passersby, and Jamil felt no malice from the oddly gaunt woman. Thus they shooed away that feeling of worry that had momentarily gripped them and instead dipped their head in polite greeting while she conversed with Nex regarding trade.

[LuckyBlackCat]

"A Gerudo daughter?" That was just as surprising to Micah as a Zora in the desert, but it confirmed what he'd heard about the Gerudo only ever bearing children of their own race, no matter that of the father. And if fathers truly had up until recently had little involvement in their Gerudo daughters' lives, it stood to reason that they'd brave harsh conditions to make up for lost time. "Very true. Family reunions are indeed important."

He thought of his own father, his own community, an ache welling in his chest. As fascinating and rewarding as his journey through Hyrule was, despite the numerous slip-ups, he'd make sure to drop by his people for a visit soon enough.

He studied the possible souvenirs once more. His gaze settled on a fish-shaped pin, sanded and polished so smooth it glistened as if slick with water, its sunset red colour making it vaguely resemble a Sizzlefin Trout. "Is there anything in particular you'd like in exchange for that one?" he asked, pointing out the brooch. He carried little on his person besides essentials and culinary ingredients, but if Nex so wished, he could cook something for him... or at least attempt to.

One of the nearby women, after politely declining the Zora's request, stepped back and addressed Micah.

"Sav'aaq, friend. What brings you to the desert?"

"Well, you see I'm a chef in training," he replied, turning to the white-robed Gerudo. "And I'd heard there was a cooking class here... But it turns out there isn't, not any more." His mouth spread into a tight smile. "At least there's still a communal kitchen. And plenty of ingredients to choose from." He swept a hand out to indicate the many stalls displaying fruits, mushrooms, and countless other delicacies.

A distant, dry C-CRACK caught his attention. He glanced in the direction of the sound, the view mostly obscured by crowds, save for a pair of agitated guards at the top of the palace stairs. Was everything alright? For all his concern, he quickly shifted his focus away. He was no stranger to accidental property damage himself, and knew firsthand how much worse onlookers' stares made an already embarrassing situation.

Nex's preferred trade system, it seemed, wasn't a common thing, the more colourfully-clad Gerudo expressing reluctance to part with her relics. A new arrival, however, agreed to it, her voice an eerie rasp that sent a shiver through Micah as if the desert's famed temperature had plummeted.

He spun, staggering aside to avoid knocking over a pot, eyes widening as he drew in a sharp breath of rot-tinged air. It was on claw-tipped limbs, scaly and shrivelled almost to the bone, that this woman approached, studying the display with pupils he could swear gleamed violet. Flakes of skin drifted free from the withered left side of her jaw as her lips twitched. One of the living dead beings that Ramella, a trader who frequented Goron City, had spoken of in her recountings of attacks on her hometown?

Yet the new customer's presence didn't appear to perturb the locals, who wandered by as if she were no unusual sight. Micah relaxed, inclining his head to greet her as the brightly-garbed woman did, shame roiling anew in the pit of his stomach. For all he knew, there may be nothing monstrous about the emaciated Gerudo at all. She could simply have some kind of mundane chronic condition, which he'd just gone and been insensitive about. Way to jump to conclusions yet again.

[Rex Draco]

Sav'aaq, Sav'aaq. The language delighted him and their history once piqued his interest. The Gerudo had a way about them that flaunted their independence. They lived far away from Hylian influence and built upon their land an everlasting culture that outlived generations of monarchs, deities, and demons. If such a thing were possible: he would have implored that those Witches turn him into a Gerudo so that he could perhaps, one day, try and bring down the Hylian's coat of arms...

But he focused too much on them. Really his feud was with the Zora and what they had done to his ancestors. He supposed by now the blood had diluted and there wasn't much disdain left in him to chastise JabuJabu's Bloodline, yet he couldn't help but despise everything that engorged eelpout stood for and had literally set in stone for the future generations to follow. He should have ripped that mural from the valley, but who was he to destroy history?

Nex had pressed his forefinger and middle finger to his cheek bone and chin (thumb tucked behind against the edge of his jaw), resting his elbow against the sack of possessions he lounged upon. His cerulean eyes drifted up towards Fajar. She sought to ask him of his desires, the impudence. Did children these days know nothing of the art of bartering? He outstretched his other arm, that hand still clutched against the shoe he was fanning himself with, and moved to lay his wrist over his bent knee. Not a single place of flesh seemed exposed to the air, save for his headfin, which wrapped around his shoulder like a scarf.

"I desire something that can ease my life. Something that would free it from the mundane disengagement of my youth." He mused. "But if you lack that, any old bauble you have at hand will do." He smirked. Did he notice her shortcomings? Well it was hard not to, but if a person was willing to trade, did it matter if they came a few centuries too late?

Nex flicked his wrist and turned his gaze towards Jamil. The words spoken by the bard were interesting. Relics? That was something he was interested in, but dare he not show it lest raise concern and make it seem as if he was there to steal the precious treasures of the desert from its people.

"Let me see. I dabble in the odd relic. I could advise you on this and that if you would like." He almost seemed willing to sit up, but did not.

He'd almost laugh at Micah, but would remind himself the youth was missing half of the story. Maybe a little more than half. It was no fault of his own. Goron did not usually carve their stories into stone, or set upon other races with their ideals of rule and order. They were one of the few races he got along with, despite the desire of others attempting to will a feeling of hate towards them onto his person in the past. They said Goron were violent, destitute creatures that only cared for stone and self. But he has had a few experiences in the contrary that put them above the Zora and Hylian that he had been particularly close to at one point in time.

"Yes, family is important..." He moved to sit up finally.

He eyed the bauble Micah indicated. The old Zora reached up a claw and tapped the hanging piece. It danced against the movement, reflecting the light cast in from the sun. Even just reaching out felt like it was burning his hand.

He didn't belong here and the desert did well to always remind him of his place. He withdrew his hand and sat back on his makeshift seat.

"For you, my young friend, if you give me some of your spices I would be grateful. Ever since departing from your company my meals have been most bland." He crossed his hands over his stomach before eyeing the single maiden, since the other departed. "As for you, if you have nothing physical to give, perhaps you would be willing to give me something else.... What do you know of the desert these days? What makes it tick?" He regarded Nephthys.