Hasse stared at the traditional calendar on the shelf. It was printed in expensive colored ink, with pictures from someone who maybe set the brightness too high. Giving the images a dreamlike quality. It’s thick with paper, as Lisk months are longer than an average system. He considers it though, he does need a planner.

The market was crowded today, it was the weekend after all. Approaching the festival for the start of spring. Where plants in terrain all bloom and a storm of seeds would fly across the continent. Nomads under all idols would celebrate, though Hasse hasn’t celebrated in a few moons.

Sounds of the market ring in the small shop, bells and voices. From all accents and tones. He smiled at the thought, he always saw new faces,

“Looking at the calendar?”

The clerk looked over at him, smiling wide. Them already wearing traditional garb for the festival. Sporting nomad earrings, like Hasse.

“Yes, uh. I’ve never seen one with such detail. How’d you make it?”

“I get em’ shipped in from Nukka. It’s a new printing process they’re using. Those are actual pictures! We put the color in ourselves.”

Flipping through the pages the paper is rough like canvas. Thick with the dye almost bleeding through the page. Hasse hums,

“That’s new. I do need a planner. How much?”

“For you?” They chuckle, “20 coin.”

Hasse fishes through his older side bag, it clinking with the small brass coins. Shiny and new. Etched with snowflakes and flowers. The symbols of the Coastal City’s union.

“Here, did you take these pictures?”

The clerk happily takes the currency.

“Yes, I did! I haven’t been a photographer for long. New to the printer too.”

The two chuckle, Hasse nodding as he pays. The calendar was heavy in his hands, not even able to fit it into his side bag,

“Well you’re already on your way, they look wonderful. Happy fethvin.”

“Happy fethvin. Blessed be!”

Hasse waves bye, continuing into the bustle of people.

Walking past food stands, waving at rug vendors, greeting carpenters. Hasse smiled at familiar faces and grinned at new ones. Helping lost tourists on their way to the office or historical centers.

After filling his bag with groceries he finally escapes the market. Despite loving it, he can only take so much. He could sometimes still hear the many bells in his dreams, and it often got so populated it sounded like a stadium. With so many voices and conversations. He found himself sometimes trying to block it out when he got overwhelmed.

That’s why he’s glad his small booth was on the outskirts.

A quaint small place, only about the size of a cart. He won’t be opening it for today, but he might as well check on the plants. Hasse recently planted a few marigolds, ones that were quite slow to show their colors. But after taking down the small screen he used to protect them they happily beamed towards him. Little orange pods, still shy to show their true faces. He chuckled,

“Hello, good afternoon.” He smiled at them, quiet. As if he was listening for an answer from it, “alright. I’ll feed all of you and then head home. You can take a break from people for another day.”

He leans down to grab a bucket. Empty.

Hasse taps himself on the head. Humming in annoyance at his mistake. Always leaving it out to evaporate.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer.”

He says to deaf ears, tapping the marigolds. Setting his things down and zipping up the screen again. He’ll have to go out to the market again to fish up some water from the square fountain.

Despite the coast being so close he could never imagine trying to filter the water. Only a few people have tried, but all methods just seemed too expensive. Especially when more conservative Lisks feared the ocean, enough to not even set foot in the sand.

Back in the market, it’s thankfully less crowded, most people probably go back home for lunch. Hasse now quickly tries to make his way unnoticed. Waving hastily to any who notice him.

The fountain was quite large. Specifically made for people to collect fresh water, with someone paid to always monitor it. Water was always a touchy subject for the city. It’s almost on a peninsula surrounded by sea after all. With only a small sliver of land connecting it to the continent south. Water was a precious resource, despite how the city’s residents didn’t really seem to incentivize it.

Occasionally there are limits on how much one can take, but they’re always loose. Lisks are a culture that respects rules after all. But after the housing progress, the rules became stricter.

Now though there was no worry as Hasse filled the bucket. Slowly making his way back to not spill any. Letting out a sigh as no one greeted him on the journey back.

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“I’m back!” The screen was zipped open once more. The rainbow of flowers perked up to greet him.

The bucket was set down and a cup was filled. Each pot gets their own drinks, all equal to get their fill. Hasse leaned over to get to the back row of pots, the succulents. Ones only found here on the coast. One though, in the far corner, had drops already apparent on the buds.

Hasse cocked his head, perhaps someone has been watering his plants before him.

He shakes it off and closes the stall. Gathering his things to head home.

Onto the cobblestone streets, into the quieter part of the city. He had lived deeper into the maze, north near the woods. A familiar environment, like he was back at his old home. It was a two-story apartment. Modeling more Nukkan-type architecture. With detailed wood decals and supports surrounding the whole building. Looking like it would survive any storm thrown its way.

It was made mainly out of redwood. Camouflaged within the woods, even the roof mirrored the dark green leaves of the forest. But when Hasse arrived he was met with something unfamiliar. A Myokan man, he could tell by his dark hair and tanned skin, smoking. Looking down at a book directly beside his door. The smoke from a shortened cigarette in his hand wafted away. Dissipating into the warm air.

Hasse’s brows furrowed as he spoke, clutching his bag closer to himself, “Sir, are you waiting for something?”

The man looked over at him blankly, his eyes tired. His voice was equally as exhausted, “You Hasse?”

“Yes? Oh! Are you Geurk?”

The man chuckled, “Yep. You remember my name.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? I didn’t know you’d be here-“

“Yeah. I came over to see the place.”

Hasse’s shoulders become less tense, and he grabs out a key, “Well I didn’t expect you so early, I’m sorry. The place is a bit messy now.”

Geurk is quiet as the door is open. He dodges the hanging plants and chimes. Smiling at the twinkling noise.

A few traditional nomad banners were hung too. Representing the Nomad mythos’ gods, called Idols. The moon and sun. Ones of lizards and spiders. Vibrant threads, thin enough for the sun to come through and shine a rainbow of colors onto the walls, like fabric stain glass.

Despite what the gardener said his space was spotless. Only a few books spread out on a small coffee table. Geurk cringed as he saw Nomad style seats next to the table. Having to sit cross-legged or on your knees to even be comfortable at the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like anything?” Hasse set down his things and immediately grabbed at Geurks bag.

“Hey! Katze- what’re you doing?”

“I was just… you can put your bag down-“

Geurk stares, the air quiet between them. Making the other man nervously play with his shirt.

“Just, where am I going to sleep?”

“I was, uh, still setting the guest room up. So, you could have it? It’s still messy though.”

“Uh, huh. And this place is a pigsty.”

The bag is dropped onto the table, making a crunching noise. Geurk though just stretches his arms and yawns. Collapsing onto the low couch, not even a few inches off the ground. Despite the height though he nuzzled into the cushion. Smelling of sheep wool, he sighs. Hasse smiles, going around to the kitchen nearby. Thankfully its counters were the proper height.

Clinks against the stone counters were all Geurk heard. Even now he remembers Leto’s background music. The smell of his dinners and the dim light he always had on in the background. He’ll never admit it, but he missed its simplicity.

“Geurk? Hey, can I ask you something?” A voice calls, its owner hidden behind the counter.

“Shoot me.”

“What does your name mean?”

A creak, sitting up on the couch Geurk tries to spot the hidden man. Seeing only his curly hair behind a cacophony of plants.

“Well, I just met you, man. What type of question is that?”

“Small talk. It’s what people first know about you. It’s pretty important.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

Hasse’s face pokes up above the plants, he struggles as he’s on his toes, “nothing? Really? Geurk it has to mean something!”

“Yep.”

“Well, what does it mean to you?”

Geurk chuckles, looking over at the Lisk dumbly. A smirk on his face and arms behind his head.

“You want an honest review? Like some sort of deep poem by a hippie? I’ll list, I’m a man who’s just been getting by. Going out, crying, shagging, once in a while you break your nose. But, I don’t know, I’m just living.”

The clinks stop. Hasse’s soft steps come over. A worried expression pointed at Geurk’s smirk. Putting his hands on his hips, Hasse looked more like a disappointed mother than

“Geurk. That… sounds terrible.”

“Well, you asked? What’s your name about? Hasse?”

He shakes his head and sits across from Geurk. Sitting all too formal, even his elbows hover away from the table.

“I’m named after Tasse. The idol of gifts.”

“You… we’re being literal. Uh-huh. I gave a list man. Give yours.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry. Let’s see.”

staring at Hasse’s golden earrings, Geurk hums. Like Opal, all sorts of colors reflected off of them.

“I’m a man too, I garden. I sell plants down at the market. I have a dog, Whiskr. He’s out at the-“

“I don’t need to know every detail man. Just like a summary.”

“Right. I’m a man, I just get by too. I go out about the town. I attend festivals. I pray. I miss. I cry too. I scrape my knees. I’m just. Hey, I’m living too.” Hasse chuckles, it’s sweet. Making Geurk smile.

“Aren’t we all?” Geurk suddenly scratches his stubble, “Festivals? Like the ones with the masks n’ all?”

“Yes! Actors! I’m surprised you don’t know. I thought your last roommate was Lisk.”

“He was from the city, and definitely was no Nomad.”

“Aheh, yeah. I go out west for the spring sometimes. But now you’re here.”

“And? Don’t trust me to stay at your place for a month?”

Hasse gave him a look. Eyebrow raised, arms crossed. Even shaking his head.

“Really?? Not even!?”

“Yes, not even. You haven’t even signed for you to be here officially.”

Taking off his jacket, Geurk stretches his back. Cracking bubbles, smiling as Hasse cringes his way. Taking off his belt, throwing everything to the ground next to him.

“Tomorrow.”

“Alright, is that… really necessary?”

Suddenly a white shirt is thrown onto Hasse’s face. Falling onto his lap as Hasse coughs at the overwhelming smell of a basic body spray, even tasting it. He almost has the urge to throw it back, but just sighs. Throwing it aside as Geurk’s laugh echoes in the house.

“Woah? I smell that bad?”

“Uh, no… no. Just sleep. I normally wake up early.”

“Mhm. And I need my beauty sleep.”

Hasse turns off the lights and leaves his new roommate for the night. Closing the door, he sighed, massaging his temple. He’ll help this man. Hasse sits at the edge of his bed and swears on it. Looking out the window to the moon, he saw a small cloud passing by, the light winking down at him.