Red dust, azure paths, gold light fixtures, ornamented columns, and brightly painted statues decorated the plaza. Shops were against each other’s tables, separated by decorative rugs and scarves. Customers and shopkeepers were also squashed together, the former haggling for prices, even when explicitly told that the items were all charged by weight. Colorful textiles in every shade and design imaginable were up for display on these large wooden rods. Bags of spices, vegetables, and fruits, with the latter two covered in thin sheets of ice, were being dragged out from carts; piles of bloody sacks came rushing to the butcher’s market where salmon colored walls were accented with an ocean blue. A line of caravans sold second-hand books, dark teas, and unpolished gems, and a group of bird keepers carefully secured a small leather bag of ink, pen, and paper onto a flock of mammoth birds, which were being fed barbequed ribs from one of the many food stalls.
In the middle of the plaza stood what seemed to be the source of the large tongue of fire they saw at dawn, a pyre standing on a concave plate of gold. Surrounding it were weapon vendors, and oddly enough, lounging chairs that were certainly too close to the pyre for comfort. But the oddest of them were not the pyre lounging chairs, no, not at all—that title would belong to the outsiders.
They were everything but inconspicuous in their synthetic garments. The only ones who seemed like they could blend in were Cassandra and Azazel, but the latter’s insistence on wearing a chain wallet gave her status away. Dangerous territory came to Scarlet and Alodia, who, from top to bottom, just screamed foreigner.
When the stares started to accumulate in uncomfortable numbers, they swerved into a quiet alley, “You think we’re gonna be in trouble?” Alodia asked, pulling on the strap of her rifle, “how are we going to explain this when we go out to get food or something?”
Cassandra shushed them, “We don’t even know the currency—or if they have one, so how are we even supposed to get food?” promptly wiping another bead of sweat off her forehead, “God, I need a shower.”
Alodia slid down the wall with a soft thump, and croaked, “Same.”
Azazel joined her shortly, "Maybe the lake wouldn't be too bad."
"And turn into namuh snacks? I'll pass, you're welcome to try though,” Alodia pulled down her tan vest, fanning out the growing humidity in her turtleneck, “Has anyone spotted an inn?”
The others shrugged, “Okay, if there isn’t an inn, there’s gotta be a bathhouse here somewhere. Or something of that nature."
Cassandra leaned against the wall opposite to Alodia’s and opened her bag, taking large gulps from her tumbler. “I have a suggestion.”
“Scar?”
Scarlet cleared her throat, finding it hoarse, “Cass, your clothes, you mentioned before that it's from your grandma right? The one who used to live in the continent?” Cassandra zipped her bag back up again, nodding, legs shaking as she pushed her weight off the wall.
Scarlet smiled, “Any chance you can pull off a…uh, local attitude?” Alodia stood up, holding her friend steady to brush off the patches of red dust stuck to her back, “We just need to ask around if there’s an inn around here.”
“I’ll look like an idiot.”
"Not like these people are gonna see us again anyway. Thirty seconds of embarrassment in exchange for a day of cleanliness."
Alodia tapped and squeezed Cassandra’s shoulder, “My uncle always said that pulling off a disguise is fifty percent clothes and fifty percent confidence,” When she smiled, her freckles stretched across her brown skin, “And you’re already halfway there.”
“I have no idea how to navigate this damn place, so forget the whole confidence part,” to which Alodia replied by grabbing her by the arm, walking towards the end of the alley.
“And that’s why I’ll come with you,” she said, “A little fake confidence from me, the outfit from you.”
They heard padded footsteps approaching them from behind, Scarlet joining their party.
And so, they sauntered through unfamiliar territory. As they explored the cityscape, taking in the sights along the way, they passed a seemingly innocuous table, and an elderly man standing at its front ushered them back. Several bowls were laid out in a dry to wet manner, with the leftmost bowls containing blue, yellow, and orange powders, and the rightmost bowls containing similar products in paste form. The man, who introduced himself as Parvo, told them that they should be wearing sun protection.
He seemed to be a seller, and so they wanted to excuse themselves since they had no money to speak of. Parvo had a hearty laugh at that, and continued to push them to wear it, noting Cassandra and Scarlet in particular.
“I’ll do it for free, even. Your friends are quite the pale types, but I suppose they’re closer to pink now—and I’m afraid if these two continue their lackadaisical attitude with their skin, they’ll be as red as a cooked lobster, and suffer several weeks of skin disease,” his whole body shuddered at the thought. “And you girls definitely aren’t from ‘round here. Thinks of this as a welcome present to the region.”
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Alodia had to ask him twice if he’s sure he’ll do it for free, and twice he assured her, “You’re wearing one too, young lady. Even our melanin is no match against the almighty sun, after all.”
And so, the man applied powders on their skin, then paste, using a thick brush instead to draw on designs on their faces and necks. Now, they looked closer to the locals, who besides having powders and paste on their skin, were wearing face wear as well, “Sadly, I cannot offer any free covers, my wife might get angry. But I assure you, I applied generous amounts of powder to keep most of the heat and rays out.”
The three thanked Parvo, and he in turn said his goodbyes, clasping his hands, “Farewell, and may the Goddess bless you all!”
As they walked away to continue their search, they stumbled upon a wide building with a strong fragrance, “Jackpot.”
It was a bathhouse, “And would you look at that,” Scarlet pointed at the sign, “It’s also an inn.”
“Double jackpot.”
However, their jackpot claims were soon trampled. They did not have the necessary funds to rent a room, let alone a spot in the bathhouse. They were told that they had to pay 500 miqs every night, and they had no idea what a miq even was. The only other option was to camp out somewhere, or just start their search for Lucio. They agreed to take the latter, and so they scoured the area for information. First, apparently they were in a place called Amihan, which was not a city, but a “post” for travellers and traders alike to recoup and pass by. Second, they were already in the Deyja desert, just an incredibly small part of it. Third, was that the lakes they just passed by were the former homes of dungeons, now conquered, and thus have sunk to the ground, and the fourth thing they learned was that the person who conquered these dungeons passed by here a few days ago to rest—and was described as a man of towering height who wielded a greatsword, nearly as tall as himself, and wore a blue blindfold. And fifth, was that he bought a messenger whistle from the bird keepers. While they didn’t win the jackpot—that being able to pinpoint his exact location, they did hit a bingo.
Once they met up with Azazel and Tricia, who apparently have been navigating the city via the rooftops, they explained their predicament. They had no idea where Lucio was, but he was probably going around conquering dungeons, so their first option was to find a dungeon and camp out till he just...popped up. That was immediately rejected. The second option was to find Lucio like how Lucio found them, by using a messenger bird. But that circled onto their first problem which was money, and the lack of it.
Azazel smirked, accompanied with a giddy cackle.
Alodia sighed, knowing where this was leading to. “We’re not stealing.”
Azazel groaned and rolled her eyes, “Well, I don’t suppose you have any better ideas? Tricia has been hard carrying this team—and you guys can’t tell me I wasn’t trying to be helpful.”
“Trying to be helpful isn’t really being helpful. Like that group project with Sunny—when you tried to make ‘idea creator’ a role? Instead of like, I don’t know—literally anything else?”
“Is it not?”
“It isn’t.”
“We-”
Cassandra quickly grew tired of their bickering, “Okay. Alodia, I know you’re all about upholding the law, but unless we have another way to find Lucio, stealing this damn whistle might be our best option.” Scarlet nodded in agreement. Alodia looked at Tricia for a third opinion, but alas, she too accepted that they may have no other choice.
Alodia raised her hands up in defeat, “Alright, alright, fine. But who’s going to steal the whistle—ohhhh. Of course, our local bookstore hooligan.”
Azazel rubbed her hands together, her smile disturbingly large, “Not my fault, they placed the pocket books in the most discreet location possible, it was right there, how could I not?”
“So how does it feel being the ever elusive Tommy Bookstore criminal? Pretty sure the library cops are onto you.”
“Pretty good, thanks for asking. Now, whistle right? ”
“You really got to stop saying that, I swear, it’s a goddamn jinx.” Scarlet said. Azazel shrugged, already taking large strides towards the tent, disappearing into the shop. As they waited for her return, the four were trying to busy themselves with other problems, particularly their mode of transport. “Unless, by some miracle, there’s a motorcycle here somewhere.” That definitely was out of the question, highly unlikely, and would be basically impossible to use in the desert.
“I could create a for a few miles, but all five of us? Ice is gonna break unless I put a lot of power into it,” Cassandra said, “And without a good night's sleep, I don’t think I can even break a mile.”
Alodia pointed at Tricia, “Couldn’t she just pump up some pollum for you?”
Tricia nodded, “I can, but not for long. The boat rocking was keeping me up.” Cassandra nodded in sympathy.
Scarlet turned to Cassandra, “Aren’t you training to be that priest thing?”
“Priestess, but yes.”
“So doesn’t that mean you’ve got an ass ton of pollum in you.” Alodia muttered something about Scarlet’s use of ‘ass’ as a word of measurement, to which the latter merely giggled.
“That’s–that’s not how it works. Not exactly. As...someone in the...lower side of the height spectrum-“
Alodia was quick to snort, “Consider me utterly shocked.” Scarlet chuckled, while Tricia not-so discreetly covered her mouth, “Height honesty, I never thought I’d see the day, brings a tear to my eye,” which was accompanied with the dramatic action of tear wiping.
Cassandra slapped Alodia’s hand away from continuing it, “You absolute tool. Anyway, small size equals small pollum reserves, and I can’t exactly change my height, can I? The only way I can expand the reserves is either by gaining muscle or some...other way.”
“And that other way is?” Scarlet asked. Cassandra sighed, frowning.
“My grandmother just said that each path is different, taking many forms, with their only connection being having to go through insurmountable odds in the motherland to ‘figure it out.’”
“What, like those retreat gatherings? Meditation bullshit?”
Cassandra shrugged, “I guess? It’s so unnecessarily vague that I might as well start bodybuilding,” she paused, snapping her fingers, realizing the drift in conversation, “Anyway, what I was trying to say is that I haven’t expanded my reserves in a while and I’m the worst possible candidate for the job.”
Right after she said that, they saw Azazel exiting the tent, skipping towards them.
Alodia crossed her arms, “Well, seems like somebody had a good time.”
Azazel darted her tongue out, “Yeah, of course I did. They let me feed the birds and stuff, and told me I had sweet ass armor.”
“It's called flattery, basic customer service stuff. But let's assume I believe your latter claim.”
“I will assume so,” Azazel stepped closer to Tricia, “And, by the way, I got the .”
Scarlet nodded and turned her heel to the northern gates of the city, which only featured more hills of sand, “Maybe we still have time to catch up with dear ol’ Lucio.”