Over Tlangthar, the sun beamed down when Lysara and Myrith reached the family home of Larin. Smells of hot broth and spices roasted rose and mixed with floral scents outside in the garden. Warm smiles greeted the Auquans through Moimui at the door, embracing the two ladies like they had just come home.

"Come in, come in," she said, moving aside to let them enter. "It is noon, and the meal is prepared. You must be starving after all your labors."

Zakop stood beside the eating area, his presence strong but benign. He gestured to Lysara and Myrith, his face solemnly respectful. "You do us a great honor by coming. Sit, sit. We've prepared a meal that we believe you might like."

The table was a humble but beautiful display. Fried sticky rice paste, pounded until it glistened with a gelatinous sheen, sat in small bowls, each topped with a sprinkle of crushed nuts and herbs. Beside it was Red Tea, its deep crimson color steaming in delicate clay cups. The Xiaxoan dishes reflected their culture: simple yet rich in flavor, every ingredient a tribute to the land that had provided it.

Zakop served portions personally onto Lysara and Myrith's plates, persuading them to taste each delicacy. "It's a tradition to be sure our visitors dine well," he said in a light yet genuine tone of voice. "You can't leave the dining table hungry."

Lysara took one mouthful of the sticky rice. Her eyes opened wide to the explosion of flavors. "This is absolutely fantastic," she said, in all sincerity. "It tastes different from whatever we have prepared at home."

Myrith nodded in agreement, sipping her tea thoughtfully. "The tea… it's bold but soothing. I can see why it's popular here."

Moimui beamed at the compliments. "It's made from the leaves of the Redsprout tree. It grows near the rivers and thrives in Xiaxo's soil. Everything here has a story, a connection to the land."

Larin chuckled softly. "Mother always says food tastes better when you know where it comes from."

It flowed very well - anecdotes lightened by a pinch of seriousness here and there. Moimui talked about the Xiaxoan ways, speaking in a voice full of warmth as Zakop quietly listened to the Seafoam lives that Lysara and Myrith recounted. Larin then filled up the gaps by relating his observations; most times, it even brought everyone laughing out loud due to his dry wit.

"You've raised a fine son," Lysara said to Zakop and Moimui, her tone respectful. "He's resourceful, kind, and sharp. A true leader."

Zakop's expression softened, pride glinting in his eyes. "Larin has grown much, but there's still much for him to learn. The land shapes us all, and he is no exception."

As the meal came to a close, Moimui pressed more food onto their plates despite their protests, laughing as she said, "It's a Xiaxoan tradition to send guests away too full to walk. You'll forgive me for following it."

Lysara and Myrith shared a look of amusement, each taking another bite to satisfy their gracious hosts. When the meal finally ended, they stood to leave, bowing their heads in gratitude.

"Thanks for the hospitality," Myrith said sincerely. "We've felt more at home here than we could have imagined."

As they stepped outside, the warm air enveloped them, carrying the faint sounds of the bustling city below. Larin walked with them to the gate, insisting on seeing them off.

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"You'll visit again soon, won't you?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

"Of course," Lysara said. "But don't let us distract you from your training. You've got a lot on your shoulders."

Myrith added with a teasing smile, "And don't think we'll let you skip out on your studies. We expect progress reports."

Larin laughed, bowing slightly. "I'll make sure to impress you both next time. Safe travels."

The three wished each other well before leaving, taking with them the warmth of the meal and the connection it brought.

The Auquan encampment sat on the outskirts of Tlangthar, its coral-like structures blending harmoniously with the surrounding landscape. Many of the Auquans had returned to their homeland, but those who remained were essential personnel: scientists, military officers, and everyday workers who maintained the camp's functionality.

Larin entered the camp, his steps unhurried as he took in the serene atmosphere. Despite being far from home, the Auquans had cultivated a sense of comfort here. Small gardens, meticulously tended, surrounded the camp, and the scent of cooking wafted through the air. The hum of conversation and laughter reminded Larin of Tlangthar's own communal spirit.

Near the edge of the camp, a woman knelt by a patch of vibrant, glowing flowers. Her hands moved deftly as she pruned and watered the plants, her movements deliberate and gentle. She was tall and lithe, her bioluminescent veins faintly glowing in the sunlight, her features streamlined and her blue hair - pipelike tendrils flowing and long.

"Good day," Larin greeted, stepping closer.

The woman looked up. Her face seemed to brighten. "Ah, you must be Larin. I have heard much about you."

"And you are?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Alirea," she said with a nod at the garden. "I maintain the plants. They are mixed from our natural flora and from Xiaxoan species. I find it wonderful to see the way they connect."

Larin sat down next to her and looked at the flowers. "They are beautiful. Do they serve any special purpose beyond that?"

Alirea nodded. "Many have medicinal properties and some increase the flow of mana. This one," she indicated a delicate blossom that glowed, "we use in healing elixirs. Your Redsprout trees, however, are completely new to us. Their hardiness is incredible."

The two spoke at length about the similarities and differences in their agricultural practices. Larin found Alirea's passion infectious, her love for the land evident in every word. Despite being far from home, she seemed content, finding joy in nurturing life.

As Larin continued through the camp, the scent of cooking led him to an open-air kitchen. There, a broad-shouldered man stirred a large pot, his face serious but kind. The pot emitted a savory steam, filled with the scents of herbs and spices both foreign and familiar.

"Smells incredible," Larin said, approaching.

The man looked up, a small smile breaking through his stern demeanor. "Care to try?"

"Don't mind if I do," Larin said.

The man spooned a serving into a bowl and handed it to him. "I'm Jiren. Cooking's my domain here. It's not much compared to what we can do back home, but we make do."

Larin tasted the soup, his eyes widening. "This is fantastic. What's in it?"

"A blend of Auquan spices and some Xiaxoan ingredients we've picked up," Jiren explained. "Your Redsprout leaves add a depth we didn't expect. Makes me miss home a little less."

Larin leaned against the counter, watching as Jiren continued to cook. "What's home like for you?"

Jiren fell silent, his eyes away, out into the distance. "Busy. Beautiful. The sea goes on forever, and the cities are alive with light and song. But it's… different from here. Here, everything feels connected. Slower, in a good way."

Larin nodded, understanding the sentiment. "You seem to have adjusted well, though."

Jiren smiled. "We have to. Except for the people here, who have been so kind. They remind me of the notion that such a place might exist."

The two chatted for a while longer, the conversation easy: Jiren telling of his home, Larin of Xiaxo. The exchange was deceptively easy, natural—a bridge between two worlds.

As Larin left the camp, he could not help but feel a kind of gratitude for the Auquans. They and their advanced tech and foreign ways shared a certain kinship that was undeniable; they were light-years from home, yet a way to be belonged had found them, in much the same way as Larin had found belonging in their world. For the moment, those bonds seemed robust enough to see whatever lay down the road ahead.