Desert Homecoming [Open]

[LuckyBlackCat]

While Nex busied himself serving his flock of customers one by one, Micah nodded to the Gerudo in priestly garb, although he inwardly winced at the words "proper preparation" which stuck in his mind as if emphasised. "And food is a great way to bring people together," he added. "It's why I'm learning to cook as many different kinds as possible. Got to provide good hospitality, with people from all over the kingdom mingling more than ever."

Her mention of a great - albeit messy - chef residing in town, among other culinary experts, piqued his interest. "Oh?" His eyes grew wide. "That explains the palm fruit shells I noticed in the water earlier. What's her name?"

Before she could answer, Nex spoke up, addressing both of them.

"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."

A flattered yet bewildered chuckle left Micah's lips at the notion that Nex had particularly enjoyed his cooking. "You're in luck. I still have plenty of Goron Spice." He plucked a few bottles of pungent crimson powder from a hip pouch. He'd need to save some for the dish Nellie had requested, but could part with this much. "How many would you like? Also... If you like spicy meals, does that include Fragrant Mushroom Sauté? Do you know which types of mushrooms work best for it?" He glanced at a nearby stall, which displayed fungi of various shapes and colours. In hindsight, he really should have asked Nellie which kind she preferred.

Something about the white-clad woman's cryptic response to Nex's request for desert lore seemed to be the last straw for the decaying Gerudo, who instead of continuing to grimace and glare at the crowd, shambled away. Micah cringed - even if there were various factors at play, his unnerved response to her arrival couldn't have helped her mood.

The brightly-clothed Gerudo, by contrast, bubbled with enthusiasm as she gushed about the significance of her relics, her eagerness to travel and learn about the wider world. Micah found himself smiling, the youth's joy infectious. "Travelling is pretty fascinating, huh?" he chimed in. "Even if it doesn't always go as you plan, it's still a valuable experience."

[Rex Draco]

Friend wasn't a term Nex used anymore in honesty. It was a platitude leveled in the face of polite company to present a more amicable nature than he was purported to have. Now he did not view the Goron as an enemy, far from it. The fellow had the ability to create tasty treats that satisfied his belly.

Micah quickly responded to his praise. "Quite lucky indeed..." He slid the spice bottles across his counter using his makeshift fan, putting them aside to deal with later. "Now I can't say I am familiar with the meal itself — never tasted it, but I can tell you it was something favoured by a certain group of people a long time ago. If you're seeking knowledge on mushrooms: you should find the children of the forest. No one knows about mushrooms better than them."

He looked towards the other Gerudo. "It is too bad that it would require so much effort, as you see I am far too old to cross the deserts in their completion. I suppose I'll miss out on the elegant history of this land. I was looking forward in documenting some of the ruins that were being overlooked by some statues depicting Gerudo maidens."

Merchants of baubles and jewels weren't known for their bloodthirst, so his plied trade of choice made it easy for others to approach him, but what he really traded was information, knowledge, and power. He bent the collected voices to his will. The soft murmurs of near and by maidens caught in his senses like fish to a net. Their cutting comments or side set glances gave him enough information to proceed apace with his plans. All he ever needed to do was set up a stall and wait.

And what luck, but an hour in a young Gerudo had the presence to speak of a relic. He knew nothing about what constituted a relic these days. Some of the old rings on his fingers would be seen as junk by a few, or old fodder not fit to trade. The magical antiques he had viewed as mundane house items had become museum worthy pieces. When Jamil presented the items Nex sat up, the first real movement he's made in the past hour.

He tapped the shield with his claw. "They don't have workmanship like this anymore. You'd be hard pressed to find any smith that can bend metal in this way anymore. Look at the edges and how it's once been shined to a bright surface. There are no imperfections and its style —" It resembled something he had recalled seeing in the past. "You won't see outside of a historian's hut these days. My advice would be to seek out the oldest Gerudo. There is one among them who would have knowledge of what it is. She would find it difficult staying quiet about it in any case."

[Emily]

She could also smell the stench.

"It is too bad that it would require so much effort, as you see I am far too old to cross the deserts in their completion."

Beneath the veil, her lip curled. There was no smile here to be had, no brightness to the eyes or gentle humour in her demeanour. Ruby-embedded teeth would be revealed were it not for the ever-present veil.

"I suppose I'll miss out on the elegant history of this land."

Fajar had left her alone with this sarcasm. Degeneracy. A small pit of disappointment sat in the pit of Nephthys's stomach. It was not proper for such feelings to weigh on her heart, on her stomach, in the eyes of her lady. Warmth and light were met with serenity and happiness. Disgust, disappointment? Blood was only to be spilt in the light of her lady moon.

"I was looking forward in documenting some of the ruins that were being overlooked by some statues depicting Gerudo maidens."

As one of the promised, she could not act out of alignment. That place was for their tools, their proxies, those that lived within the middle world, not truly of the sun nor the moon. She had hoped her echoing of tone and words would encourage Fajar to attack. Unlike the rest of her sisters, she had developed an appreciation for the gibdo's presence. She would have, of course, restrained the beast, but their pantomime would chase the interloper back to the green fields of Hyrule, back to something other than the image oft-perceived by the outsider of the desert, that suffering and ruin.

And so instead of lashing out, she held her tongue. 

"By the sun and moon, hallowed vehvi. I offer you my assistance. Use me as you see fit."

"Very good." Where Nephthys was playful and curious, Iset was clipped and efficient. Her eyes never betrayed inner feelings, her voice remained neutral. She barely regarded Fajar's presence, and beyond the basic acknowledgement, continued her discussion with the shopkeeper. "Two sacks of barley flour, one sack of rice, and a sack of couscous mix."

She raised an arm at this point, carrying a small hand-written list. Her arm was smooth, seemingly unweathered through its lack of exposure to the elements. Bangles and rings covered her hand and arm, jingling along as she raised it to view. "A carafe of olive oil, a kilo of lemons, a dozen tomatoes, aubergines, and peppers."

The shopkeeper snapped, her aides already rushing to gather the needed supplies and loading them on the sled. "No meats or eggs today?"

"By her grace, our chickens and goats are maintaining their numbers well.

"Ah-" she held a finger up as the bags of grains began to be loaded onto the sled. The Gerudo looked to her, pausing mid-hoist. "We have no need to tire our seal when a tool better fit for such things is at our disposal."

As they began loading the various accoutrements onto the sled instead, and loading the sacks of barley, rice, and couscous into Fajar's arms, a shout from outside caused Iset to close her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a hand, as the voice was fully and instantly recognisable.

"These decorations belonged to the leaders of my village many many moons ago. And this shield has been with us for even longer. What records we have seem to imply that it once was in the keeping of the Eighth Heroine themself during their arduous journey."

Nephthys was shaking, eyes wide as she stared at the shield. To this moment, she had still not made any sound, but the idea of it being exposed so readily to outsiders, she could hardly contain herself.

"It is my hope, and that of my people, that we might see this, and perhaps someday all of our sacred relics, returned to their former glory. That is in part why my footsteps bring me here this day. That and a love for history that burns brighter than the noontide sun. In seeing them restored, I also deeply hope that I can see their stories restored too. To seek out those who also kept records, compare them, expand upon our shared history! But it's more than just that, I want to learn all that I possibly can of the people living beyond the desert as well! I spent much time traveling my home and learning there, and so to be here now, to have the chance to see how much it differs, how much it shares in comm- A-ah... Ahem..."

The lady threatened to overtake her, a jealously-guarded history, an era-defining search for these pieces of history, only to find them dangled in front of those who could not survive outside the oasis, who could not bear her light. She could feel the scream in the back of her throat, not hers, but the indignant sun herself.

"Stars, I nearly got carried away there, my apologies. As I was saying, I seek to have what I can repaired and restored should such be possible. At which point I have no doubt my village will be happy to send me with yet more still!"

"Your vi-"

The Zora scratched at the shield. An arm wrapped in cloth reached for weapons that weren't there. It spoke as if it knew. "They don't have workmanship like this anymore. You'd be hard pressed to find any smith that can bend metal in this way anymore. Look at the edges and how it's once been shined to a bright surface. There are no imperfections and its style — You won't see outside of a historian's hut these days. My advice would be to seek out the oldest Gerudo. There is one among them who would have knowledge of what it is. She would find it difficult staying quiet about it in any case."

"Don't touch that!" she shouted, before raising both wrapped hands to her mouth. Every Gerudo within sight looked to her, hands moving to weapons, but they relaxed when she seemed to do the same. She straightened, took a breath, and released it. "My apologies. Malika, sister, allow me to lead you to the proper... authorities on our history. We have been seeking-" she stopped again, words having been strained to this point anyway, and she took some steps away.

[El]

It wasn't like Sister Nephthys to raise her voice. Fajar smiled. Her death-glazed eyes gleamed with amusement, but the quiet pride in the curl of her painted lips shone brighter. Good. A Gerudo without passion, was like meat without bite. Tasteless.

Stepping outside into the swell of heat and assaulting light, the gibdo used the excuse of stacking her load to take a look at the scene herself. She wasn't subtle about it. While she sorted the goods from wider to narrower and heavier to lighter, creating stable towers to burden herself with later... her unblinking eyes drank in the situation. Blinded and swimming though her vision was, it didn't take long to piece things together: the soul-striking flash of a reflection and the Sister's bumbling grasp for composure was all she needed.

A shudder rolled down Fajar's spine, and she rasped out a breath that almost whined. Her skin flared.  Her skull felt split asunder. Her skeletal feet clawed against the sandstone, paling with a fresh shed.

Pleasure or pain? The differentiation was unnecessary.

Finishing off one hard, forceful yank of a knot, the mason briefly left the tied groceries - and the nearby shrinking, horrified sandratseal - to reapproach the group she hadn't long left. This time she paid the Zora no heed. She glanced not at the vibrating boulder of spiced warmth either. Instead her eyes flashed from Neph to Malika, seizing the foreign Gerudo with an intensity of attention unblinking and piercing.

"You have committed a grave offence, little v-..." Rotting nostrils twitched. Fajar squinted, straining against discomfort. "...vehvi."

The caustic growl to her voice was habitual - not intentional - but the Gerudo did not mask it either. She leaned into its abrasion, solidifying her innately stern expression into a rigid strain of severity.

...And then she cracked a smile.

When she laughed something rattled in her ribs.

"The Sands would be very jealous to see you flaunting our sisters' treasures to outsiders." Fajar shot a sidelong smirk towards Neph, teeth sharpening as the lips peeled back proper. Perhaps it was meant to be endearing - or charming - but the blatant height difference between the gibdo and Malika was stark, as she craned her neck back: causing a sharp angle of harsh shadows and fiercely illuminated eyes as Fajar looked down her nose at her. "I am.

"I have already sworn a duty to Sister Iset, but as an authority on history it would please me greatly to admire your collection. Later." Her eyes squinted again, twitching against the invasive urge to gaze down at the burdened counter right there, beside her. If she looked - this close - she'd likely go blind for good. Even in her peripheral vision it glared and burned.

Fajar's throat purred.

[Chaosome]

Looking over to Micha as they chimed in, Jamil nodded eagerly. "Oh most certainly! Being able to travel as much as I have has been a blessing, and even the failures I wouldn't trade for anything." the Gerudo gave out a fond and thoughtful hum before they spoke again. "Ah, speaking of travels, I would dearly love to hear about your home when the time permits. I'm curious how distinct it must be from Sn-"

Before Jamil could continue that train of thought however, the wizened Zora spoke up again:
"They don't have workmanship like this anymore."

He explained that, to no surprise of Jamil's, that you'd be hard pressed to find something like this outside of a historian's hut. Behind their veil Jamil pursed their lips, a hand coming to rest on their chin as they thought. They had expected that this would likely be the case, what with the countless years that had passed. Even if they had expected this, it did put a bit of a damper on their quest. They were not one to be deterred so easily though! They had traveled far over the barrens sands to see this done! They were determined! They were capable! They were-

"Don't touch that!"

-startled by the sudden shout! Jamil squeaked and jumped in place, hands pulled close to their chest in surprise before looking over to Nephthys with wide eyed confusion upon their face. When she relaxed and let out a slow steady breath however, so too did Jamil let themselves relax as well. Was it the fact that anyone had dared to lay a hand upon the relic that had her so... impassioned? Or was mother's concern actually quite well founded? Or perhaps there was some sort of enmity between some of the Gerudo and Zora here too?

When Nephthys began to speak again, of leading them to someone who knew the history's well, Jamil brightened once more and opened their mouth to both thank her and apologize in the same breath, but that breath was stolen when they felt a dreadful gaze fall upon them. Slowly the seer turned and looked up and up towards the looming figure of the emaciated Fajar.

"You have committed a grave offence, little vehvi."

Jamil swallowed hard and tensed, leaning back slightly as the woman stared down at them. Their heart pounded in their chest but they didn't shirk or shrink. For that moment of the stare down, one could almost swear that the air started to grow colder around Jamil, or even see little flakes of frost starting to dance and swirl around them in the light. But no sooner than did Fajar crack a smile and rattle a laugh, it disappeared. A trick of the light then.

The pounding stopped and Jamil felt their shoulders relax and their jaw unclench. A strange sense of... humour... if one could call it that. Clearing their throat, they finally found their voice with which to speak again. "I do apologize for any offence or concern I have caused. I have often been told by friend and family alike that I am a touch unorthodox in my methods." bowing to both Fajar and to Nephthys, Jamil first turned their attention to Nex.

"Thank you very much for your eyes and ears, friend. I will do what I can to bring you something nice from home as trade, when time permits." The distrust of their distant sisters was not their burden to carry. Let thanks be given where it is due. It was clear to Jamil at least that the Zora spoke with experience. "I look forward to doing business with you in the future." There was much they could learn from this man, they could feel it.

Wrapping both the Mirror Shield and the ornaments back up, Jamil gently placed them back into their cart and turned once more to the priestess and gibdo with another bow. "Perhaps to make up for my hopefully minor transgression, I could assist as well. Both to make amends and in fair trade for learning what you may know?"

[LuckyBlackCat]

"Children of the forest?" Micah tilted his head. "You mean the ones said to live in the woods near Eldin? The Koroks? But... How do I find them?" Weren't only children and those with high spiritual sensitivity able to see them? And if the stories were true, wasn't it nigh-impossible to get into that forest, fog consuming all in travellers' paths until they found themselves back where they started? Even if not for those two issues, chances were he'd just upset the woodland spirits by inadvertently crushing the plants.

"Thanks though!" In exchange for the spices, he picked up the fish-shaped pin and fastened it to a strap of his apron. Not the sort of thing he'd usually wear, only its colour giving it any resemblance to the accessories typically sported in his hometown, but it was finely crafted, and fitting for a chef.

Just as the bubbly Gerudo asked him about said hometown, Nex spoke up once more before Micah could answer, appraising another item forged with ancient techniques. A weathered shield, with what looked like a mirror bearing the Gerudo crest at its centre, its luster dulled from age. "I can only imagine how it must have been in the Eighth Heroine's day!" Micah studied its smooth surface, the once-reflective part that had to be tough indeed to have remained free of cracks this long.

Trembling white cloth at his side drew his attention away. The other Gerudo wasn't so impressed, staring in barely-contained horror at the relic for some reason.

"Don't touch that!" At her shriek, several pairs of eyes turned upon the small crowd. Micah's startled gaze shifted from the briefly battle-ready postures of other Gerudo to the white-clad woman's stricken face, her hands clasped over her mouth as if she held back another scream.

"W-What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it a sacred item? Is... Is it cursed?" The townspeople calmed as she did, but what about the relic had caused such a reaction in the first place? He took a shuffling step back from it, even as the priestess reluctantly elaborated on Nex's advice to seek out an expert.

She wasn't the only incensed Gerudo, the decaying woman returning and fixing the relic owner - Malika - with an eerie glowing glare. No matter the whiff of rot she brought, Micah took a deep, shuddering breath of heated air and sidled closer to Malika, ready to put himself between her and the growling, threatening figure if it came to that.

Which, thankfully, it didn't. Her entire demeanour changed, a death-rattle of a chuckle leaving painted lips. "The Sands would be very jealous to see you flaunting our sisters' treasures to outsiders."

Oh. That was it. The Gerudo, it appeared, not only valued their history, but were fiercely protective of it. Micah's taut frame relaxed. It was, in fact, lucky for Malika that the previously-mentioned authority on history had been close by all along, even if she wasn't in a position to provide information right now.

The oldest Gerudo... Despite her nigh-skeletal limbs and leathery patches of skin, her face remained unlined. If she was indeed the one Nex had spoken of, that meant she was some kind of undead being. Yet none of the residents showed any fear of her. And for all her irritability, she displayed a level of friendliness, or something close to it, when it suited her.

Malika took it all in stride, carefully storing the relics away and offering to help out the other Gerudo with their transportation of goods. "Is it ok if I help out too?" Micah offered, looking over at the veiled woman. "As a thank you for your mention of the city's greatest chef." He still had those mushrooms to buy, but he could do so along the way, and it was only fair to give something back. Besides, this way he and Malika would get to chat about their homelands.

[Rex Draco]

Nex knew the moment he saw it...

He had seen it once before a long time ago. It was once wielded by a hero, only to fall away and forgotten with his passing. By now it was a relic, forgotten by time and lost in the depths of ancient logs written in a forgotten tongue. The red gleam and reflective surface were hard to forget. By now the gleaning surface had dulled, hiding the original symbology tucked away behind the mirrorlike material.

He had splayed out his webbed digits to touch the surface, the gecko-like pads centimeters from gripping against the surface. It was then the demure and frail looking priestess let out a shout of horror and indignation on par with that of a serial peeper. The older Zora lowered his hands and turned his head slightly towards the wispy woman who sought to collect herself amidst her visible outrage.

He would almost laugh, but managed to pull back his mirth into a dark smirk hidden behind a veil of a membranous head frill. He pulled up his hand and brushed his clawed digits against his cheeks, the web between his thumb and forefinger catching against his chin. In an experienced breath he relaxed his facial expression, arching a brow when Nephthys sorted herself.

The modern Gerudo was open and welcoming of outsiders. Their traditions and natures were on full display for traveling merchants and visiting tourists. It was all very unfamiliar to the Zora who was used to requiring specific passes and permissions to even be allowed to step food across their gates, even if he was Zora. His very nature as a masculine-identified entity brought them great duress, their traditions long defying the cohabitation of his kind among theirs. That strict tradition had what made the Gerudo such a curiosity. With a bloodline so strong that never was there a child born without the fiery red hair, it had become a mark of power among them. Even the shield carried the same, deep crimson born among their ranks of warriors and artisans.

The priestess had taken several steps back in order to collect herself. How he was tempted to unsettle her station further by presenting her with proof that he was far from the outsider they felt he was. But it was best not to tease young girls. They were still learning and finding their place in the world.

He leaned back and crossed his hands onto his stomach. He turned his gaze towards Micah. "I have never eaten mushrooms before." He'd admit. "Much of my diet when traveling consists of jellied eel, as it is quite easy to store and carry and when in town my belly is usually full of booze and stews the local alehouses offer." He sadly had no firsthand knowledge of mushrooms. "But I do know of a cavern nearby that is full of a strange kind of mushroom unique to the desert..."

His eyes pinched closed as his attention focused on Jamil. "Oh, you can always find me on the road so I am sure we will meet again. Next time we meet I will have something special in my possession, courtesy of the deep sands of the Gerudo Desert."

[Emily]

Though Nephthys hadn't intended for her rage to manifest in a shriek, she was gratified at its results. The series of reactions garnered by the assembled group was most illuminating toward their characters and priorities. The Goron was immediately frightened of the Mirror Shield, stepping away from it as if it would zap him with lightning. The Zora seemed amused- she should stab him she should stab him she should stab him she should stab him.

Thankfully, Malika seemed almost regretful of their misdeeds. This was a credit to them and their people- their village. Nephthys knew. Of course she knew. Those sworn to the moon had always known of this place and this particular Gerudo enclave there. She had fostered her own suspicions upon the unfamiliar arrival, but it wasn't until this moment that she had felt confirmation. Validation. She was still shaking with indignation, however: that a Zora voe would lay hands on their sacred relics before any Gerudo or Professed had the opportunity? The thoughts running through her head required purification. She would excise them upon her return to the temple.

And finally, most beautifully, Fajar sped past. To Nephthys's surprise- and amusement- the Gibdo did not strike out at the Zora. Instead, she turned on Malika. A chill passed between them, one that Nephthys couldn't quite parse in the moment. It certainly came from one of them, and she assumed that a cooling ability would have been utilised by Fajar in the past to avoid the sun damage. "You have committed a grave offence, little v-... vehvi."

Nephthys wasn't the only one who noticed the strange aura emanating from Malika, then. Excellent. Further confirmation of her theory being reality. And then Fajar laughed. "The Sands would be very jealous to see you flaunting our sisters' treasures to outsiders. I am." They briefly made eye contact, Nephthys's pale amber eyes brimming with negative emotions. "I have already sworn a duty to Sister Iset, but as an authority on history it would please me greatly to admire your collection. Later."

As Fajar passed by her, Nephthys's voice was low, a near-growl. "Sarqso, vaba," she said, still shaking.

"Perhaps to make up for my hopefully minor transgression, I could assist as well. Both to make amends and in fair trade for learning what you may know?"

Nephthys brightened at that. Her attention properly turned away from the Zora, she crossed the space once more to Malika and their cart. She held out her arms, gently grabbing the Gerudo's hands. Malika would certainly notice that her own hands were icy cold to the touch, but perhaps it was a pleasant feeling in this environment. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "We would be honoured to host you at the temple. Between the ancient one and our own historians, we can examine your artefacts with precision." Her gaze flicked only for a second to the Zora, but returned just as quickly to Malika. "And away from prying eyes."

"Is it ok if I help out too? As a thank you for your mention of the city's greatest chef."

Nephthys's eyes shone with amusement. "Sa'oten, what a pleasure it would be to be your host. We have not had the opportunity of a visit from one of the nār people in our temple yet."

"Oh, you can always find me on the road so I am sure we will meet again. Next time we meet I will have something special in my possession, courtesy of the deep sands of the Gerudo Desert."

She bared her teeth once more, glinting rubies hidden beneath linen. It would be most becoming for her to simply ignore the Zora at this point. And besides, Iset was returning. "Sister Nephthys," she spoke politely, directly. "Are you well?"

"Sister Iset," she turned, taking Iset's hands in hers. Cold linen contrasted against sun-warmed skin. "Everything is well. Sister Malika," she gestured, "is a visitor from faraway lands, as is Micah, one of the nīrān. They wish to visit our temple."

Iset's eyes scanned the scene. Other Gerudo were already approaching the Zora's cart, interested in seeing whatever had caused such a scene. Though the temple and its residents were tied to an ancient and complex history, holding up the traditional exclusions and methods, the people of Gerudo Town themselves were much more open and... inclusive. They might come to expect this tension, and would be entertained enough to approach the scene and all the more likely to make purchases from the Zora voe. "As you command, sister." Her eyes settled on Malika. "Do you require any accommodation physical or dietary? We are a small, humble community, but we hope to provide to our guests."

[El]

A slow, processing blink momentarily darkened Fajar's gaze. Something in the way she regarded Malika had shifted. It was hard to tell if it was a positive change however: the taut rigor mortis which was settling in the corner of her painted lips, crackling - just a touch - as it twisted. It was a cryptic smile. Patient, but debating.

Then the Zora casually mentioned some planned future theft in their precious sands. A wheeze of a sigh shook through her burning nostrils. More than annoyed, it sounded exhausted.

Still, there was entertainment to be enjoyed in the kinship she felt with the Sister. Nephthys's respect for her was endearing enough, yes, but there was something special about the impassioned rage simmering just below the surface. Fajar admired it, with a curling glint of her eyes. A quiet, adoring observer that stood guard close by, casting the priestess in a cooling darkness of shade as she took turns embracing different hands and informing Iset of future plans. Whatever the Zora's intentions may be, that was not where the gibdo's priorities laid. She would trust her sisters to handle it as they saw fit, and should they fail, the Golden Vaba herself would interfere if need be. No-one here was inept.

"Do you require any accommodation physical or dietary? We are a small, humble community, but we hope to provide to our guests."

Fajar's gaze shifted, dragging a languid line away from the inquisitive vehvi collecting at the Zora's store towards instead the burly Goron. She hadn't paid him much attention until then. As such, her scrutiny sharpened, keening with a brightening light that enlarged her misted pupils. Though judge as she did, it was predisposed to a warm regard given much of their races' shared traits and their long line of loyal trade. You could even argue that the Gorons paid a far greater respect to her craft than her own sisters did these days. And so, eventually, Fajar smiled. Wide. It strained her cheeks with a whine of tissue she ignored, a few glints of sharp teeth peeking through the fissures.

"We have no volcanic rock," She added, having waited patiently for an open space after Sister Iset had finished. "But I am well versed in similar materials. Should you have a secondary preference, nīrān, I can assist in sourcing it."

For Malika's food however Fajar had nothing to offer. ...Assuming her tribe weren't in the habit of ingesting raw meat. Her attention briefly flashed towards the sand seal then, though it withered away from her attention, huddling closer to its stacked and tied burdens as it pretended not to notice the barbs of her thirst tightening about its furred throat. Irrelevant. Wetting her mouth, Fajar returned her eyes to the guests. Even if it was a rat, it was a service rat. She had no intentions of letting baser desires harm her relationships with a holy house.

[Chaosome]

Jamil breathed a sigh of relief that their offer was well received. They were still rather curious as to why the Zora seemed to cause such a stir, but that was a question for another time. As much as they were eager to learn of how the Gerudo of the homeland lived and thrived and the like, they had a task at hand which took greater priority for the time being. Once they learned the if, or more hopefully the how, of repairing the Mirror Shield, then they could allow themselves more leeway in letting their whims take them across Hyrule! They had to imagine that it wouldn't be a simple singular fix either way, so perhaps those two goals would have a chance to intertwine. Regardless, they were getting ahead of themselves. For now it would be a trek into the desert once more to this temple.

The young Gerudo smiled at Iset and her question, bowing politely to her in kind. "It is very kind of you to offer. To my knowledge I've no allergies to speak of or the like." They did tend to have some food preferences, but preferences were not so dire as to request special accommodations on their part!

Checking over their cart once more to make certain everything was secured and accounted for, Jamil nodded their head and hefted up the handles. For as much as it disappointed them they they wouldn't be able to hear tales from the old Zora for now, they were certain they'd find them again sometime. Plus, since it seemed the kindly Goron would be traveling along with them to the temple, they might be able to learn a thing or two from them. "I am ready to depart whenever it is time!"

[LuckyBlackCat]

Between Micah's and Malika's offers of assistance, the priestess' mood lifted. "Sa'oten, what a pleasure it would be to be your host. We have not had the opportunity of a visit from one of the nār people in our temple yet."

The tension drawing Micah's features taut eased. Although townspeople continued to gather round, this Gerudo had put the disturbance over the relic and its supposed mishandling behind her. "I could carry some of those supplies, if you want." He gave her a warm smile. "Anything else you'd like help with?"

He turned his head towards Nex, who mentioned another place of interest. "A cavern? Whereabouts is it? And do you know if those mushrooms are popular here?" If it was located anywhere near the route to the temple, he could take a detour there on the way back, assuming his travelling companions wouldn't take offense.

Another such travelling companion, going by her exchange with the other priestess - Sister Nephthys - asked as to any required accommodations, including dietary ones. As Malika replied, Micah wondered what kinds of rocks the temple staff could spare, if any, considering they had yet to host a Goron. He'd be willing and able to sample other foods, but would asking for his preference of mineral meals be overstepping? It had been a while since he'd eaten something truly nutritious for his kind...

The prickle of an unearthly glare snapped him from his thoughts. Even though he'd been prepared to step between this undead Gerudo and Malika, his muscles stiffened at her unblinking, violet-pupilled scrutiny. After several drawn-out seconds, however, she smiled. Pointed teeth showed, as did gaps in the rotting flesh of her cheeks, but the gesture appeared a friendly one. Micah's ribs loosened. Did she do this on purpose? Unnerve people, only to mellow out in an instant and watch their reactions?

Still, her offer to source suitable rocks was a kind one. "I'd... I'd be fine with sandstone, if it isn't too much trouble," he replied. "Some of our traders bring it back from the desert. There's a pleasing crumble to it."

On the subject of rocks and crumbling, his thoughts drifted to what kind of structure the temple and any decorations within would have, a mild crease forming between his eyebrows. He'd have to take utmost care not to break anything priceless. Especially considering Sister Nephthys's temper.

[Rex Draco]

Nex netted his webbed fingers together and rested them over his stomach. Though his predatory smile could sometimes chase the more weak-kneed sorts away, those clamouring for the rare treasures that were his bits and baubles didn't think or blink twice on the matter. The way he dealt with each customer was with a calm and patience that was expected of a salesman. He was mindful of his words and knowledgeable about his product.

Fajar's suspicion of his intentions were — incorrect.

In fact he hardly seemed crooked or fork-tongued and often gave away pieces for simple bits of gossip and samples of the tasty treats the desert had to offer. A hydromelon here, a bit of grilled meat there. It didn't take long for him to sell a fair portion of his stock, but it didn't seem to net him much in the way of rupee. He seemed more inclined to chat and snack. He pinched his eyes closed, the corners of his mouth curling from earhole to earhole.

"Be mindful," He called out towards Jamil. "The desert and its dwellers are quite hungry. Don't give up your secrets easily." But that was probably advice he'd give anyone, wasn't it?

Everyone set about with their tasks. Jamil in search of answers, Micah following the flavours, and the priestesses taking solace in their religion. But little did the fanatic femmes would realize that the Zora had already taken his piece of the desert, right from under their noses. He packed up his stall and with his heavy pack on his back: he seemed to wander off into the desert...