Salt tinges the air, just like it always does near the Waterless Sea. Fishers are bringing in the days' catches- scaley things, with finned bodies and webbed toes and only two legs, such an odd thing to see. Any respectable thing would walk on four, but then again, the Iaculi wouldn't be eating any respectable thing. Pearl looks away.
It's a quiet day. The market is busy, but if she were to take two steps outside it, she'd be forgiven for assuming the town was abandoned. The only thing that draws others here in this time of crisis is the necessity of food, as hastily-caught as some of the fish here are. (One of the ones on the table she's been ogling has started to slide down from the pile, and flops onto the ground with a sickening slop, as though it were made of jelly and not flesh. The thing has whiskers and tiny, beady eyes that don't quite catch the light with how dull they are, and it's still moving- and she can't tell if that's from it being alive, or from it being past rigor mortis.)
She grimaces and looks away again, walking away. Her goal here today is simple- find enough supplies for the next seven days for her Guild and House, and then get out. A hacking sound from one of the vendors in the direction she's heading causes her stomach to drop- who was it? Pearl catches a glance of another Iaculus hastily wiping at their mouth before continuing to untangle fish from their net. Subtly, she turns away from that stall, bypassing it for the next one. In the background she hears the start of an argument- or at least an indignant outburst- begin, when the culprit starts saying things like 'It's just a hairball' and 'Haven't you ever coughed? The food isn't cooked yet, it'll be fine'. Her ears pin back on her head and feathers start to bristle as she looks to the next stall.
"Ah- welcome, welcome, you're just in time. Our latest batch of rabbit jerky is just finishing, would you like a sample?" Pearl's eyes brighten as she looks at the stranger. They have orange feathers and dark grey fur, she notes absent-mindedly, a bit of an odd color combination. The real rare find here, though, is the rabbit.
"I would love one. How large is the batch?"
The stranger smiles and turns to the small table next to them, picking up the tray resting on it and holding it out to Pearl. "Six rabbits, about three pounds of jerky meat from each, so... Eighteen pounds. But three of those are spoken for already, mind you."
Pearl nods, thinking over the amount of food she needs for the Guild. Really, she should've delegated this- her sibling, Wilde, would have had a blast walking through the market, especially now. (Though, that was exactly why she hadn't asked them to go. The Guild's reserves were still recovering from the last excursion Wilde took.) "I'm interested in the rest of the batch." For the full seven days, it wasn't nearly enough jerky, maybe only a fourth. But for rabbit meat, whatever the trade was would be worth it. "Are you familiar with the Sea Lion's Engineering Guild? Anything we can help with in return?"
They perk up in recognition, smiling. "Oh, you're asking on behalf of that guild? We collaborated just recently, on the preparation for the last orchestral performance. Your work was phenomenal- consider half of it on the house, the other half paid when you come and fix our ovens next time they break. Or some armor, if you don't want that hanging over your head."
Pearl blinks, nodding. "That works, just send us word next your ovens break. Lucky break for the Spindly Ivy Food Guild with all this rabbit, huh?"
The stranger's expression falls. "Ah. I'm with the Crested Heron Guild, not the Spindly Ivy." It takes all of her willpower to not grimace at this revelation, stomach somehow dropping farther than it did at the coughing iaculus earlier. The rivalry between those two guilds is unparalleled, both vying for official recognition from the Choir and therefore government support. The official orchestral performance was a very big event, one that wound up with one just a bit in the lead in terms of favor.
Pearl is suddenly very glad she hadn't shared her name. This could have turned into a much bigger deal than it had to be, with big ramifications and accusations of her being 'impolite' all because she was the Guildmaster. At least Wilde wouldn't have done that- would've wound up with a debt worth three tailored armor sets, but wouldn't have offended anybody.
The silence stretches on for a moment longer than she would prefer it to before the stranger from the Crested Heron Guild puts the tray back down on the table. "So, who should I say placed the order? For verification purposes."
Shit. Pearl has only a moment to react and the minefield of social navigation is right in front of her. And if she gets this wrong, then the only piece of rabbit jerky she'll get is the piece currently in her paws. Which is good, but the thought of not bringing enough back for the rest of her Guild (and also more for her later) almost brings her to tears.
Alas, she must own up to her mistakes. Pearl takes a deep breath (silently, unobtrusively, so as not to let them know she's concerned). "Pearl, or Molly. From the House of Albatross."
Recognition sparks again, though this time with a tad bit of confusion in the stranger's eyes. They nod, and smile, though it seems less genuine. "Must be busy as the Guildmaster, it's understandable to mix us food guilds up. Do you have a form of identification?"
Pearl nods, and holds up her necklace, upon which is an artistic depiction of a wave, stylistically designed to look like a cat's claw as well. There's decorative designs placed along the edges of the metal as well, with color staining. The design would be difficult to replicate, particularly if seen only briefly. Rather than recognition, the stranger looks a little bit more dumbfounded at this, squinting at her. Ah. They expected me to be lying.
"Well, miss, I'll have someone send the batch over to your guild by noon today. Thank you for stopping by- and, just in case you forget since you're undoubtedly very busy, the order is with the Crested Heron Food Guild. Not Spindly Ivy."
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Pearl smiles in return, though it holds tension. "Of course." What the other said, though mortifying, was completely fair. And it wasn't like she had much time to try to make her reputation better, what with the Guildmasters' meeting with the Choir coming up at noon.
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Noon came quickly. It brought with it the undying heat of the summer sun, forcing even the marketplace to move indoors (not that that was where Pearl was). Covered with a sheer fabric (rare, difficult to scavenge from the buildings and to use even moreso due to the fragility), Pearl walked into the courtyard holding the Guildmasters for their meeting. She had to pause at the entryway to show her necklace once again, but this was a more expected time to have to do so- not that the meeting was very private so far. Before she'd even entered the building, she could hear the verifiable yowling, growls, and hisses that were going on. Getting closer just meant being able to hear the sole Choir representative present so far trying to interject and stop the argument.
Headache already starting, Pearl walked over and sat down next to the pond that served as a centerpiece to the courtyard and to their meetings. Needing a moment to orient herself, she glanced around the yard, taking in the view.
This was one of the few places she could still see green on something other than a iaculus or faded fabric. The buildings' walls themselves held intricate painted details, the history of the Ocean's Choir from the first Iaculus to the most recent events detailed in images. From Icarus to Medulla, every Choir leader was portrayed, often with some of their closest allies within the Choir- and, in the rarest of cases, a Guildmaster even showed up. The grass in the courtyard was one of the aforementioned sources of green, but beyond that it was also soft to the touch, and tall enough to offer a bit of shade- only to their paws, though. There had to be a limit, so any eavesdroppers could be caught. (Though, nothing was stopping others from flying up to the rooftop and waiting there to listen, besides the beating heat of the sun. And probably some guards. Pearl hadn't memorized the daily comings and goings of the guards in the Choir). Besides that source of green, there were also several other flowers sparsely located near the entryways, vibrant colors adding to the luxury of the courtyard.
Having situated herself, Pearl figured it was about time to start tuning in.
"-and the Choir is doing nothing about it! How many are sick so far, collapsed from the sky- how many iaculi are even left to run the performances? If you keep ignoring the problem, we're going to end up with no iaculus left to run even the barest minimum of the dances, and what'll we do then? If the Choir wants the performances to go on so badly, either provide the Flock with water, or have your guards perform."
The Choir representative nodded frantically, frowning. "Yes, it's a problem. We know and we hear you, and respect your opinion. However, it's very important that the guards continue to patrol as they have been, and the other members of the Choir are busy with management. The performances are important to keep up moral, and to make sure that we continue to be in communication with the Sky, but we can't do so ourselves; that blessing belongs to members of the Flock like you."
"Bullshit." The speaker hisses- Pearl recognizes her, Nightingale, Guildmaster of the Snakeskin Medicinal Guild. "You aren't the ones treating the iaculi that fall from the sky, midperformance. You aren't the ones treating this disease that's finding a pawhold because you all refuse to admit there's a problem."
"We feel your pain, and we empathize deeply with what's going on-"
"But are you the ones getting sick? Are you the ones having to keep working? Or the ones falling into comas?"
The spokesperson- Pearl has never seen them before, but they're doing their job of representing the Choir well, if their goal is to have no lingering promises to have to hold true to- nods a few times again. "Yes, the pain of this disease has been impacting the lives of Choir members just as deeply. We await the end of this disease and the drought just as much as the Flock does. All we can ask is that we keep the Choir and the Flock both working, especially the Snakeskin Medicinal Guild- your work is essential to keeping us up and running."
Nightingale huffs, and starts to speak- but stops, almost deflating. The next time she speaks, it's more pleading than her previous loud and angry words. "Look, we- this is triage. We aren't thriving. We are barely surviving, and we don't know how to treat the coma patients when they show no signs of waking up. I'm asking you as a person, please convince the other Choir members to do something about this. You aren't immune to what's going on, and if you can't find it in you to care about our lives, care about your own. This will reach you. The Choir will get sick."
For a moment, the spokesperson hesitates. They look confused, almost, ears tilted back and a slight slouch to their posture, unable to meet Nightingale's eyes. They frown, looking to the left for a second longer, before taking a deep breath and straightening themself up, staring Nightingale in the eyes. Their posture betrays none of the previous hesitance. "We regret that we can't do mo-"
"Yes, you can do more." Pearl stands up, her own ears pinned back as she glares at the Choir representative. "What do you mean, you can't do more? You can put a pause to the performances, can't you? Share the water rations more equally?"
The other Guildmasters exchange glances. One of them speaks up- Tychus, from the Willow Bark Medicinal Guild- in what could be called a rehearsed tone. "Our medicinal guild isn't overworked, and if the Snakeskin Guild is, maybe some restructuring is needed. You said we were barely surviving, but Nightingale, really, that's an overstatement. We're thriving." He exchanges a look with the representative before looking back to Nightingale.
She just stares at Tychus for a moment, mouth open in shock and eyes squinting. Nightingale glances to the other Medicinal Guildmasters present, then back at Tychus. "What are you- thriving? Thriving? Who's thriving in this- you don't even cover Flock events, Willow Bark covers the Choir's events- you, is this true, is the Choir thriving?" Nightingale turns to glare at the representative, her previous tiredness being replaced with a bit more fire.
The representative, meanwhile, has already started vehemently shaking their head no. "Of course not, of course not- we aren't thriving, nobody's thriving," they shoot a glare at Tychus, one of the few actual expressions they've shown since Pearl has arrived, "everybody is very stressed and very overworked and very, very sick. The Choir is just as adversely affected as the Flock, we promise you. Why do you think I'm the only Choir representative present today?"
Pearl sighs, and turns to leave. Nightingale is continuing to argue with Tychus and the representative, and a few of the other iaculi are chiming in with their own experiences, but Pearl has had enough.
It's time to finish prepping the Guild to leave. The disease, the drought, the lying- it's all the final straw on a large haystack.
On her way out, she nods to the guard, before continuing to strategize. She's already organized enough food for a week, enlisted the help of one or two other guilds, recruited a few other professions to the engineering guild- the meeting today, on her part, was largely a formality. It had to be.