All around us, the city was in a state of transition. The stores, wagons, and people sitting in between were all bathed in a bright orange light. The city of Divastyr sat on the cusp of dusk, and the dying light was slowly being consumed by the growing artificial glow of golden street lamps.

As much as the city refused to sleep when the sun did, our little group didn't have to worry about foot traffic. One of the perks of being a colossal eight-legged spider mech with a bronze hat and a red beret was that people couldn't see your face. They didn't know anything about your mood, your temperament, or who you really were beneath. That sort of anonymity led those around us to simply step out of the way rather than risk being trampled by something that might care little for extending that same courtesy.

Of course, I would have stepped aside if people were unwilling to do so, but if others were going to clear a path for our little group, I wasn't about to stop them.

Thankfully, I'd had some time to myself before our little excursion. With the time between our meal in the cafeteria and now, I'd taken the liberty of cleaning myself up. Once Sigura had gone on her jog, I'd retreated to the workshop. After those heavy conversations, I needed to flex my magic a little to clear my head and relax for the event ahead. The last thing I wanted to do was arrive looking wobbly and exhausted, so I'd tried to keep my work light.

Instead of the massive mechanical hand I'd been trying to get used to, I created eight smaller hands, all of which had been armed with cloths and wipes. Cleaning myself of dirt, snow and muck had only been the first step. I'd performed some repairs, sorting out the minor damage my mech had sustained. I'd used the metal in the workshop to reinforce my legs and body too, giving my form some tweaks to enhance its durability without adding too much weight.

I would have thought that people with funds like the Chimera Organisation would have had the expertise and coin to make better devices, but I'd found signs of shoddy craftsmanship everywhere. Once I'd fixed their mistakes and updated my form, I took the liberty of integrating some of my new fans into my mech. I doubted I'd need to use them, but in the event that someone got too warm inside the restaurant I'd have a solution for the problem. I could only hope I wouldn't need it for its more... offensive applications.

I'd had more time to myself than I'd expected, and I'd been worried that I had missed the event or that my team had forgotten about me, but of course that worry too had been unwarranted. Just another obnoxious trick my heart had decided to play on me.

I'd invited Gearhead and Gamechanger out with us, but they'd declined. Both of them had been hard at work putting the finishing touches on that 'Aetherman' mech, and were eager to get it done tonight. I'd offered to help them, but they hadn't wanted to keep me from going. One person who had decided to take up my offer had been Tick Tock. I'd brought him hoping that I could at least add one more familiar face to what I expected would be a large group of unknowns, but I found myself pleasantly surprised when we met at the end of the Velvet Star's covert tunnel.

Maybe Clever Girl had purposefully chosen to put together a small group of familiar faces to ensure we wouldn't feel too out of place, or perhaps it was merely coincidence. It was likely I was overthinking things again. There were eight people in our group; four from Equinox, and four originating with the Velvet Star.

The thought was strange. As much as I knew they were all part of the Velvet Star, it felt odd seeing them all in casual clothing. None of them wore the checkered uniforms or violet visors that they usually sported. It almost felt as though we were walking with completely different people.

Streiphen, Sigura, and Fareel were those I recognised. The dark grey skinned Chimera child with the long white horn and hair was smiling, his starry eyes shooting from building to building as he bathed in the city's ambience. Fareel looked about as relaxed as I'd ever seen him, yawning past sharp teeth into webbed hands, his bulbous orange eyes closing shut for a moment. At least with how the people on the street were treating us, he didn't need to worry about bumping into people. Sigura stood head and shoulders above everyone in the group bar myself, both clawed hands stuffed into the orange shorts she wore, completely at odds with the warm clothing of those with us. Her tail swayed gently in the late evening breeze.

The Velvet Star group was just as evenly split between the genders as ours was, with two men and two women.

Clever Girl wore clothes that were close to being as loose as Sigura's. Both of her long Rabbit-like ears stood up from the head of short, light blue hair. That hair curled back upwards around her neck, and was a colour that matched her short sleeved shirt. Her pants were longer, even if the fabric was thin, and she wore sneakers, a contrast to Sigura's sandals. Her shirt had a white circle in the center, one with crashing waves all around the edges, surrounding a full moon on all sides. It was another shirt by 'Blue Planet', if the tag behind her neck was any indication. I didn't know if it was just a popular design for Lapins, or if she was religious in some way. The only other people I'd ever seen wear clothing with such prominent moon and tide symbolism were worshippers of the Dreaming Moon.

To her right was Screen, who I hadn't expected to join us. Dolls weren't known for their desire to mingle with others beyond what they needed for work, but Machina were clearly very different. She wore clothes that looked as formal as Clever Girl's looked casual. She wore a black suit, one with golden buttons that matched her glowing eyes. Atop her head was a stiff black headband. Sigura had a few questions after seeing the Machina dressed like that on a 'casual night out', and she'd just responded that this was what she felt most comfortable in. The headband had seemed pointless too, given that her long silver hair was just as metallic as the rest of her, but we hadn't raised any further questions about it.

Tick Tock was dressed in a warm, puffy black jacket and light grey pants. The clothes complimented his short black hair, and he looked the most 'average' of the Velvet Star group, if I was using the civilians passing us by as the standard. He wore none of his metallic armor or clocks, but had a bronze watch on his wrist, and a pair of bronze tinted sunglasses. Once again, I presumed it was a fashion thing, given that the sun was going down.

He was in the middle of a conversation with Incognito. The man had the same 'male' appearance he'd had when he visited us with Pack Rat in Dronrowth. A tall frame, windswept spiky dark blue hair, a winning smile, and pointed Half Elven ears. Unlike other Half Elves, he didn't have that 'glow' around him, but asking about it would have been inappropriate if it was a touchy subject. He wore a white shirt and loose black tie, and a jacket with fur around the shoulders that was left open. It looked normal compared to Clever Girl and Comnica, but still gave off too much of a 'suave secret agent' vibe to match Tick Tock on the average appearance scale.

I was a little disappointed to see that Pack Rat hadn't come with us. I knew he was older than we were, but I'd enjoyed the time I'd been with him, and hadn't seen him in a few days. Perhaps he was busy with work.

Still, even though I knew a little bit about each of these people, seeing them in this light felt like something fresh and different. Seeing everyone in relatively normal clothes and out of their uniforms was... strange. They didn't act like different people, but I didn't feel that same pressure for professionalism that I usually did. Maybe that was exactly what I needed, given where we were going.

Amidst a relatively bare street, Clever Girl came to a stop at our destination. It was a building we'd passed before on our first trek through the city proper, but now that night was beginning to sink in, the sign above the doorway was lit up, brighter than ever.

"Fancy Freakies?" Incognito groaned, raising an eyebrow as he looked down from the colourful, bubbly sign and towards Clever Girl. "This was where we're going? Aww..."

The Lapin Halfblood pouted, leaning over to nudge him as she nodded towards-

"Comnica is with us, dummy! They don't sell refreshments for Machina anywhere else. And we're with Chimeras, too! Don't you like Fancy Freakies anyway?"

Incognito glanced up in my direction, at the bronze helmet and red beret sitting daintily on top. It was enough to make me feel a little self conscious.

"Fair enough," he breathed, turning back towards the monster friendly restaurant.

With a smile, Clever Girl reached out to push open the door. A small bell rang out overhead, signaling our entry. The pleasant chime was drowned out by the sounds sandwiching our group. The noise of footsteps and chatter present in the streets was matched only by the sound of music and chatter within the restaurant.

Fancy Freakies was a far more spacious restaurant than I'd expected it to be. Looking back, maybe I should have anticipated the size, given its range of clientele. The floor was tiled with purple, a colour that stood out against the soft orange lighting hanging overhead. A round counter sat at the back of the room, one with a stick thin Human man with a black pencil moustache and monocle behind it cleaning a glass. His appearance was... about as stereotypical as one could get for a kindly, mild mannered [Barkeeper]. The cynical part of me wondered if he presented himself that way on purpose. If nothing else, it was laughably easy to identify his profession.

All along the walls were booths of varying sizes. Some were the same as those one could find anywhere else, designed for Humanoids and Tierakin of a 'normal' size. Others were clearly built with other races in mind, with some being abnormally spacious, and others laughably small. The smallest pair of tables looked as though they'd have fit in a doll house, which made me question what creatures would even make use of a table like that. All of the booths were outfitted with curtains for privacy, even if few of them were drawn closed. Soft golden lights hung above each booth, all bathing the table and those within them in light.

That light let me catch the glint of metal from weapons, accessories and pins on clothing, and even the occasional prosthetic. Incognito and Pack Rat hadn't been exaggerating when they'd said the establishment catered for everyone.

Alongside the sparse Human or Half Elf were Darklings and Oni, and that was merely the tip of the iceberg. One booth held a Goliath man speaking with a Cyclops woman, one with two fully metal arms. Another booth had seats that were set up more like curved couches, one occupied by a pair of Centaurs lying on each one. Through one of the drawn curtains, I saw a thin, brown feathered Harpy man gripping cutlery with the claws at the peaks of his wings, surrounded by a gaggle of excited, chattering, bronze-scaled Kobolds.

As inclusive as the building was, I couldn't see a single booth that would accommodate something with my body type.

"It's a nice place, Lu, but it's always a risk coming in here, y'know?" Incognito said, stretching as he made his way over to one of the regular 'Human-sized' booths. "Depending on who's here, the smell of some meals can really make a guy lose his appetite."

Sigura glanced back at me as the eight of us stepped into the building proper, following wordlessly. The gaggle of Kobolds behind the curtain started laughing in earnest, and Incognito moved a few booths down to get space from them. He slid into the innermost seat, which prompted Tick Tock, Screen, and Clever Girl to join him. On the other side, Sigura climbed onto the seat, scooching over to the far side to make room for Fareel, with Streiphen sitting at the edge.

Not knowing what to do, I folded my legs up against my head and sat down.

"[Are... are you sure you want me here?]" I blurted out, already silently cursing myself for saying something like that. The sight of them all sitting together like that had dragged the words out of me. "[Even if you want the privacy of the curtain, I can't fit-]"

"Nonsense," Incognito said, waving away my concerns with a light shake of his hand. "You're part of the group too, right? Leaving someone behind would be pretty shitty."

Comni- Screen snorted, a sound that was more like a wind blowing through a hollow metal pipe.

"He's just trying to seem nicer than he is," the Machina dryly commented. "If you're worried about our anonymity, we're fine. Nobody knows our faces as part of the Star while out of costume. Even if they did, Marcian has magic to hide our identities. He's just trying to get on your good side."

Incognito shrugged, letting out a "Can't blame a guy for trying," before my words cut in.

"[Marcian...? I'm sorry, I thought we were supposed to...]"

Screen's eyes widened, and she nodded. "In costume, we should use our Epithets exclusively for the sake of professionalism. But in a place like this, our names are fine. You already know, but my name is Comnica."

It was strange to hear that, but maybe that was for the best. I hoped that would create a firm line in my head, one that helped me switch gears from 'professional' to 'casual'. I wasn't much for casual, but it was better than acting too stiff around those I was trying to form good relationships with.

"Right now, I'm Marcian Zane, pleased to meet you," Incognito said, smiling up at me.

Tick Tock removed his sunglasses, hooking one of the arms into the collar of his shirt. "Tizam. Tizam Tonetouch. Sorry if we seemed a little distant by only using Epithets before. The Don's a stickler for appearances."

Clever Girl nodded in agreement, throwing a glance past my hulking form around the room for a moment before looking back up at me. "And I'm Lulu! I, uh, you're Yuri, right?"

I couldn't nod while sitting down, so instead I wiggled one of my frontal legs in agreement.

"[That's right. I'm Yuri Scalesmith. It's, um, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.]"

Across from me, Sigura laughed. Evidently she was slotting into the casual setting far better than I was. She already had one leg swung over the other, and both arms leaning along the length of the booth's backrest.

"Yur's just shy, that's all," she smiled. "I'm Sigura Brightmane, and the Fishfolk's mute, but his name's Fareel."

Fareel nodded in affirmation, right before Streiphen leaned over the table, beaming with one hand extended.

"I'm Streiphen! Nice to meet you!"

The Chimera child's overflowing enthusiasm helped me to relax. Seeing him like this after what had happened earlier was a breath of fresh air. One by one, he shook the hands of each Velvet Star member sitting across from him.

A door next to an empty yet well lit stage by the counter swung open, allowing a new figure to enter the room. They were recognisably a woman, but not like any I'd ever seen before. Their 'skin' was a shifting bright white colour, and looked smooth as marble. Her form was surrounded by flowing wind and clouds, like the center of a living storm. Despite the solid appearance, the woman's marble-like form bent and swayed in unnaturally elegant ways. As beautiful as it looked, I knew their form was made of gas and collected air, down to the long white 'hair' that trailed along behind them. She wore a white and black suit shirt and a dark dress that went down as far as her bare feet, which were little more than silhouettes among the light smoke.

A collection of black menus hovered in the air around her, each buffeted by a tiny, spinning tornado. The woman I knew to be a Sylphid, or 'Wind Elemental' flew towards us, gently laying eight of the many menus surrounding her on the table. Seven were laid in front of those sitting down, while the last was left at the edge of the table, facing my form. Even if I couldn't order anything, I was at least relieved that the woman had placed the menu. It was an unspoken message, a gesture that implied she saw me as a person too.

Maybe I was looking too much into it, but I felt the need to seek out the source of the warm feeling that spread through me as those menus gently touched down at our table.

"Welcome to Fancy Freakies!" the Sylphid [Waitress] greeted us with a voice light as air. "Can I get you any refreshments before you place your orders?"

"Just water and a cup of copper, please," Lulu said, leaning forward to be seen past her friends.

The Sylphid's eyes trailed to the Machina for a moment before she nodded.

"Oh! Hello, Comnica, I didn't see you. Right away," the Sylphid said, giving us a curtsy that I hadn't expected in a restaurant like this before floating back towards the door she'd entered through.

"What is she?" Sigura asked once the Elemental was out of earshot. "Never seen anyone like her before."

"She's a Sylphid," Tizam answered, opening his menu as the others began to do the same. "A wind Elemental. If you've met Dryads and Nymphs, they're similar. Nature Spirits."

Fareel snickered at the comment, opening up his menu.

"Are they on good terms?" Sigura asked as she flicked open her own menu. "I won't get blasted out of the shop by saying that, will I?"

Lulu laughed, while Marcian only gave the Half Nekari a shrug. "Only one way to find out, right?"

"You're thinking of Dryads and Spriggans," Comnica commented, throwing Marcian a look before glancing down at her menu. "They don't like being compared, but Dryads and Sylphids are generally on good terms."

"Nimba told me Dryads can get a little high and mighty with 'em, though," Marcian smiled, flicking to another page. "Said that they see Sylphids as having no responsibilities and that they're too 'flighty'."

"Nimba?" Streiphen asked, his eyes peeking up over the menu to look towards the man.

"She's a Sylphid in our employ," Comnica clarified. "She acts as a caretaker of sorts, cleaning up around the base. She tends to be very loose lipped about things at times."

"[Like a [Janitor]?]" I asked.

"She does more than simply clean. She performs handiwork and deliveries, too," Comnica replied.

"What's an 'Orc's Finger'?" Sigura asked, squinting down at the menu in front of her. "It's not an actual Orc's Finger, is it? Can people sell that?"

"No! It's not an actual Orc's Finger!" Lulu laughed. "It's like... a rod of meat inside a bun. It's a snack food."

Fareel turned the page, shivering at what he saw.

"Oh? They've got Mammoth steaks here too?" Sigura smiled, looking down along an assortment of meat items for the main course. Through my zone, I peeked over her shoulder, idly reading over everything she was seeing.

"Mammoths are quite common in Scander," Tizam told us. "They aren't served in every restaurant, since some races don't have the stomach for bigger portions, but they're cheap."

Marcian grinned, looking towards the somewhat queasy expression on Fareel's face.

"Don't go too far into the menu," he warned. "The stuff for Humanoids is close to the front, but the closer to the back you get, the weirder the territory. When you see 'Fried Crawly' down the list, that's where you should just turn back."

"What's that?" Streiphen asked, immediately ignoring the man's advice as he flicked ahead to see what the others were talking about.

Although Lulu shivered at the mention, Comnica picked up the slack.

"Fried Spiders and other large insects. They're common fare for Insectoid races living in the city."

"We like Capillary and all, but whenever she comes here, that's all she ever buys," Marcian told us, looking up at Sigura. "I know everyone's got their own tastes and all, but it's really disgusting to watch. The sound of the crunch, and then the juices flowing-"

"Please, Marcian, don't let our new partners lose their appetites too quickly," Tizam chided.

"There's a lot of sauces and alcohol at the back too though," Sigura commented, raising an eyebrow. "The Abyss is 'Korrigan Spite'?"

Lulu shivered once again, her Rabbit-like ears curling down against her head as she buried her face deeper into the menu. From the back, the Sylphid [Waitress] emerged, a collection of tiny tornadoes hovering around her. Each of them held a glass of water, dissipating as they were gingerly placed down on the table. The odd one out, a stainless steel thermos flask with steam rising from the open top, was placed in front of Comnica.

"Thank you," the Machina told the Elemental. The woman bowed and flew off towards the back.

"It's alcohol. Red wine, but nobody actually buys it," Marcian grinned. "It's more like, eh, a novelty drink. It's so sour that the scent alone causes people to start crying and sniffling. Unless you've got a really weird palette, or you've got an abysmal sense of taste, you don't want to touch it, trust me."

"It's a Zeradonian drink," Comnica added. "I've heard that Korrigans originally developed it as a way to get back at some Humanoids that had discovered one of their hidden communities. The Undead and some Varani tribes enjoy it."

Sigura flashed me a knowing smile that was all teeth, and I knew I had to shut down this train of thought before it became dangerous.

"[I'm not going near it, Sigura,]" I told her sternly.

She made a show of rolling her eyes, never once losing that radiant smile as her eyes fell back to the menu.

"Does this place have magic sauces or anything?" she asked idly, before looking back up from the menu at Lulu. "You're an [Alchemist], right Lu? You able to make any magic drinks or sauces that go well with food?"

The Lapin Halfblood's second pair of ears atop her head unfurled as she looked up with a sheepish smile.

"I... don't know. I haven't tried making anything like that, but I'll look into it."

"How'd you get into alchemy anyway?" Sigura asked, flicking back to the front of the menu to stop sightseeing. "Family business?"

"No, no," she responded with a shake of her head. "I used to be a [Runner]. Delivering mail and packages around the city, things like that. I, um, dabbled in alchemy to learn how Stamina Potions were made, to help me run for longer during busy days. Learning to make them myself was much cheaper than buying ready made potions. Then... a friend inspired me to look further into it, and that's how I ended up with the Class."

"Oh?" Sigura asked inquisitively. "You were a [Runner]? Were you fast?"

Lulu reached up, idly scratching the side of her cheek. "Yes... I still am, or so I like to think. The Lapin blood helps, but I got bonuses for taking priority jobs, especially after my dabbling into alchemy took off. I don't do deliveries anymore, but I still jog every night to keep myself in shape."

"Really? Its true that they say Lapins are night Owls then, huh?" Sigura smiled. "We should go for a run sometime, as long as you don't slow me down."

Lulu's eyes lit up at the thought, and the smile on her face lacked the same innocent looking tinge from before. Now, it was competitive.

"I'd love to! But I'm pretty proud of my speed, even if I'm out of practice, so don't be too surprised if I leave you in the dust!"

Sigura laughed, looking back down at her menu. Streiphen abruptly looked up from his menu, his starry eyes turning towards me with a glint of worry.

"There's so many nice things on this menu... it's a shame Miss Yuri can't enjoy all this with us..."

He sounded so downcast that it hurt to hear. If I was capable of spreading the sense of touch through my metal, maybe I could find a way to spread taste, too? Still, the idea of creating a giant mouth or pair of lips was a little unnerving. I doubted the others would take it well, either.

Tizam looked up with a worried expression of his own, glancing towards me. "She can't? Does your form not have a mouth, Yuri?"

"[No...]" I regretfully informed him. I really hoped that they hadn't invited me out under that notion. If I was the only one not eating when they'd expected me to be capable of it, I was going to feel horrible. "[Aquamari- ah... Capillary told us that my form subsists on water and... potentially something else. My body is... very unconventional.]"

"Yeah," Sigura chimed in, wearing a grin that was torn between playful and melancholy. "Like a plant. She soaks up water every once in a while, and that keeps her going."

"You could be onto something with that," Lulu commented, not looking up from the menu. "Maybe her Soul is part Botanoid- erm... plant creature. Chimeras are always a real mixed bag, so its impossible to know what could be part of their physical and magical makeup. Does she have a sense of taste?"

"How's she supposed to taste anything if she doesn't have a mouth, brainiac?" Sigura retorted with a roll of her eyes.

"Well... she can still 'drink', can't she?" Lulu asked, looking up towards me. "If you absorb liquids, maybe a flavoured drink would work."

The grin that spread across Sigura's face was simultaneously heartwarming and deeply troubling.

"Hey, why didn't we think of that?" she smiled. "Y'know what that means, Yur?"

"[No, and I'm not sure I want to, either,]" I replied.

"We're old enough to drink now, y'know?" the Half Nekari grinned, eyes flashing. "There might still be hope for you to get sloshed yet! Don't write that Korrigan stuff off, Yur. If it has a strong taste, it'd make for the perfect test."

Ah. That was where she was going with that line of thought. I should have guessed.

"[M-maybe...]" I replied, unable to keep a flustered tinge from my voice. "[But... we should be consulting with Aquamarine before trying anything! It could be dangerous, Sigura.]"

"Scared of a little booze, Yur?" Sigura smirked, swishing the glass of water in front of her around teasingly.

"I could ask Capillary when we get back if you want, Yuri!" Lulu responded with a smile. "I can talk to some of the other [Alchemists] too and see if we can figure something out."

As much as I appreciated the support from our new friends, and that this was certainly a show of comradery, I felt that it was rather... misplaced. The idea of getting drunk in itself was worrying, but I had no idea what I would do or say while under the influence. The last thing I wanted was to lose myself in alcohol and end up saying something horrifically embarrassing. My mind and emotions were unsteady enough as it was without adding alcohol to the mix!

"Y'know, you guys really don't act like a group of hardened criminals," Sigura commented with a smile. "You're more like... just a group of friends, or a tight-knit Guild. You don't really paint a picture of bad guys running around doing awful shit."

Tizam smiled warmly at the comment.

"We try to keep things polite and professional, yet light hearted," Comnica chimed in. "If we acted serious the whole time, we would be worn down. Or at least, that's what the Don believes. He's told me that people who take everything 'too seriously' lose a 'critical sense of wit' that the group needs."

Marcian failed to restrain a laugh as he looked up from the menu.

"Yeah, that sounds like the Don, alright!" he chuckled.

"We don't know much about this 'Don'. We've only met him one time," Sigura commented. "What's his goal, anyway?"

"The Don's?" Marcian responded with a grin. "Just immortality."

A chill ran through my body. Woah. That was... a big claim, coming out of nowhere. The thought instantly brought to mind more than a few fictional villains from the comics and books I'd read. It sounded like such a... stereotypical evil villain goal.

"Not the type you get from a Genie's wish or at the bottom of a legendary potion, mind you," Marcian clarified after a dramatic pause. I didn't miss the sight of Comnica rolling her eyes. "He wants to leave a memorable legacy. The way the Don sees things, he doesn't give a damn about money, or power, or anything like that. He's just a massive show-off."

Comnica bristled at the comment, her head snapping towards him to shoot a glowing glare, yet Marcian didn't let that stop him.

"He wants to make an impact. As far as he's concerned, stuff like money and power are just means to an end. He wants respect, and he wants to be remembered as someone great. He wants the Romano family to be seen as intelligent, confident, and impactful. Even if we're just employees, we're like an extended part of that family, too. I think part of the reason he doesn't want your team officially associated with us yet is that he wants to make sure you've got what it takes to embody what he looks for in his people."

"Oh yeah? And what's that? Power? Respect? Acting like we've got a stick up our asses?" Sigura asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful, challenging grin.

"Style," Marcian responded with a snap of his fingers, taking the comment in stride. "If you're strong, that's good. If you've got charisma, that's even better. What the Don's looking for is people with the potential to have a presence. If you can have impact and influence the people around you while being useful? That's the sort of person the Don wants on board. There's only so much you can do with power alone, y'know?"

A legacy. Immortality through fame and being remembered. Still a little villain-ey, but not quite as outlandish as literally living forever. I was more concerned with surviving in the moment than how I'd be remembered when I was gone, but perhaps someone with the kind of security and influence that he did just wanted something... more.

The door by the stand flipped open once again, allowing the Sylphid to drift through with a clipboard and pen, flying to our table.

"Have you decided on your orders, ladies and gents?" the Sylphid smoothly asked.

For a moment, I considered trying to order alcohol, just to feel a little more included. Part of me was tempted despite the risks and reassurances, but I didn't want to impose. We were already tagging along with the other members of the Star for free food. The last thing I wanted was for our group to come across as a burden. I knew Sigura wouldn't have minded pouring whatever we bought onto my body, but I didn't know just how much 'anonymity' Marcian's magic would provide.

Instead of torturing myself by listening to the orders for food and drink I was incapable of enjoying alongside my coworkers, I cast my attention elsewhere.

Above the empty stage with pulled white curtains, my awareness fell on the wide, curved Vox. It was active, and the events on screen left me taken aback.

The screen revealed a regular street, one next to a broad river protected by thick metal fencing. Despite being a spot that I may have considered scenic, there were no civilians around. One of the buildings by the water's edge had a circular hole in the wall. A cloud of dust streaming from the hole began to settle as bricks fell loose from the wall. I felt a sense of dissonance, looking at it. 'Smoke' wasn't capable of blocking my zone, but not being able to see through it because of a Vox's limitations was frustrating.

Hovering above the street next to the damage was a spherical lump of clear crystal, one with a faint grey tinge to it. Sitting atop the crystal was a young woman with long green hair, with the tips dyed an electric blue. Most of her body was obscured by a thick emerald coat with white fur around the shoulders. The 'buttons' in the middle of the coat holding it closed were clear crystals, ones with the same tinge as the one she sat on. Her face was hidden behind a mask, a shining grey with lines cut into the surface, and two small slits for her eyes.

If her makeshift seat and how she decorated herself was any indication, she was a [Geomancer] that used crystals. A trio of smaller crystal boulders flew out of the building, gravitating towards her, orbiting her form.

Emerging from the dust were a pair of silhouettes. As they stepped out onto the street and into view of whatever was recording them, their features became clear. I was glad they weren't dragging their feet, either. The impatience at not being able to outright see them had begun getting to me.

The first was a Dwarf, one clad in blue and black glowing armor from head to toe. Unlike the face mask of the woman, the Dwarf's helmet covered nearly all of his head. It had round pink lenses surrounded by that same blue and black, while only his wild, electric blue hair was let free from the top.

The second was a man that seemed as tall as the Dwarf was short, yet no less stocky. Compared to the others, he wasn't nearly as well equipped looking. He wore a bronze chestplate and some sort of metallic skirt that hung down over his greaves. His bare, grey arms were exposed, making it easy to identify him as a Goliath. His helmet was far less decorated than that of his allies, looking like little more than a rounded bronze bucket with many small, circular holes bored into it. Both of his hands had their broad fingers gripped tightly around a pair of metal boxes with the symbol of the Sacred Six on it. Even from far away, I could hear the jangling of metal coins from within.

The Goliath led the way down the street as the woman hovered after him. The Dwarf took a moment to turn and wave to whatever was recording him before beginning to follow his allies down the street, whistling with a muffled, mechanical tune as he did.

They were robbing a bank? Perhaps this had been a surprise attack. It would explain the lack of adventurer or Watch assistance at the scene, but there weren't any-

"-a drink?" came Sigura's voice, cutting through my introspection.

"[Pardon?]" I replied sheepishly. "[I didn't catch that.]"

"Yeah, I could tell, Yur," Sigura responded with a toothy grin. "You were spaced out again, so I had to ask. You sure you don't want a drink? We can call the Sylphid back or get you one later if you change your mind."

Ah... Right.

"[I'm fine, thank you,]" I responded. "[Maybe another night.]"

"Booooooooo..." Sigura murmured, giving me a joking thumbs down. After a sigh, she glanced around. "Well, you see somethin' interesting, Yur?"

How could she tell? Sigura had said herself that I was difficult to read, yet she still seemed to be skilled at knowing whenever my mind wandered. Was she just guessing, or did my 'poker face' have some sort of tell?

"[Erm... Yes. Those people on the Vox, are they local?]" I asked, spreading my [Telepathy around the table.

Fareel scooched to the edge of the seat to let Streiphen sit forward far enough to see what I was talking about. The eyes of our coworkers turned to the Vox, prompting Marcian to nod.

"Yeah, that's right," he responded. "Fancy Family, another one of the big gangs around Divastyr. No relation to Fancy Freakies, by the way."

"Oh?" Sigura smiled. "Are they strong?"

Comnica nodded in response, yet it was Marcian that kept the conversation going.

"They're a small group, but they know what they're doing," he responded, leaning back against the seat with a smile. "Unlike those Big Tooth guys, they're not the type to fill their ranks with weak Goons to do their dirty work. They focus on quality over quantity, y'know? Like us."

There were only three of them. Either their group was bigger than those three, or they were a very worrying trio. Chances were, there were others. Even if they were powerful, competing against a proper organisation and managing a region like the Velvet Star had would take more personnel.

"[How many gangs like this are there in Divastyr...?]" I murmured aloud.

"It's difficult to say," Comnica told me. "Some groups operate much like Big Tooth and the Fancy Family do, while others work in the shadows, using public groups as puppet factions. Between that and the shifting power balance, the number of gangs that dissolve and reform into something else changes regularly."

"Cooooooool..." Streiphen muttered, his eyes on the floating crystal boulders. While I was happy that he was becoming enthusiastic about magic, it would've been preferable for him to find that much interest in our abilities.

Once more, the back door close to the stage opened, allowing the Sylphid and the miniature hurricanes around them to fly out from what I presumed was the kitchen, holding a collection of plates, glasses, and cutlery. I felt stunned when those plates landed at our table. Had they cooked the food faster than I'd expected, or had I truly wasted that much time zoning out? If it was the former, I presumed they'd sped up the process with Skills. I only hoped for the sake of my friends and coworkers that whatever methods they used hadn't compromised the quality.

Streiphen looked delighted as a plate of finely cut chicken surrounded by carrots, parsnips, potatoes and a whole heap of other vegetables was placed in front of him. Without wasting any time, he went to work with a knife and fork in hand. I could see pain spread through his expression as he worked to chew food around the sore cheek Venison had left him with, yet he seemed determined not to let that stop him from enjoying the taste.

"We hope you enjoy your meals," the Sylphid said before bowing again, floating away with casual ease.

As unsurprised as I was to see that both Sigura and Fareel had ordered oversized fish, Marcian's brow raised with curiosity.

"Y'know, I've always wondered... isn't it weird for Tierakin to eat stuff they're related to? Maybe I'm overthinkin' it, but isn't it sorta like cannibalism?"

While Lulu pursed her lips, Fareel only chuckled at the thought.

"No?" Sigura snorted, cutting into her own meal. "Comnica drinks and eats metal, and she's a Construct."

It was true. Instead of food like any of the others had, a set of three metal bars, copper, steel, and some purple metal were arranged next to one another on her plate. Without going for cutlery, she raised the copper ingot to her mouth, and bit straight through it.

"It's not the same," Marcian replied, rolling his eyes. "It's like... Would you eat a Cat, Sigura?"

I couldn't understand where Marcian's concerns lay. If I'd needed to eat a Lizard or Snake to survive, I would have done so in a heartbeat, provided it was edible.

"If I had to," Sigura replied with a shrug. "Why does it matter? Satyr can eat Goats. Minotaurs can eat Cows. Kitsune can eat Foxes. Even Fish eat other Fish. It's all the same to me. We've all gotta eat. Why should he care if they're distantly related on the evolutionary tree? Would you have problems eating..."

Sigura stopped for a moment, her ears sticking up as she lightly scratched at the side of her neck.

"If you had to eat a Monkey, or a Goblin, or something to survive, would you?"

Tizam bristled at the comparison, but kept his eyes on the steak he slowly cut into.

"Guess so... If I had to," Marcian shrugged, lowering the tips of his knife and fork to his plate. "But I wouldn't like it."

"Have you tried eating Monkey or Goblin?" Comnica asked, raising a single glinting eyebrow.

Lulu smiled again, spearing some sort of meat slathered in a brown sauce and a few leaves of lettuce on the end of her fork before popping it into her mouth.

"Eww..." Marcian shivered. "No, of course I haven't. Would you want to eat a Goblin? You can taste stuff, right Com?"

Comnica relaxed a little as a smile slipped onto her face.

"I wouldn't need to eat a Goblin, but there's always a first time for everything."

"Yuck..." Lulu muttered with a shiver. "Can we stop talking about eating Goblins at the table?"

Both Marcian and Fareel laughed at the Lapin Halfblood's discomfort, but Tizam only nodded.

"Yeah, my bad," Marcian smiled. "I was just curious. He's part Fish, sorta, but he really looks like he's enjoying it."

Sigura glanced down at Fareel, who's eyes left the fish on his plate to look back up at her. He merely shrugged, and Sigura grinned.

"The guy likes Fish. Who're we to judge? He wouldn't think less of you for eating-"

Sigura paused, her eyes turning towards those of a silently pleading Lapin Halfblood.

"-Something gross," she finished with a shrug.

Fareel looked up briefly enough to nod in affirmation right as the ceiling's lights dimmed.

The dark didn't bother nor alarm me as much as it did my companions. With a zone like mine, dim lights meant next to nothing. Sigura blinked, her eyes snapping out of the booth to examine the room around us. Streiphen seemed more confused then afraid, but scooched a little closer to Sigura for safety. Fareel... well, he was unfazed. I doubted the Gods coming down from the heavens to threaten him would have made him any more likely to lose focus on his meal.

The eyes of our companions had turned, locking onto the stage near the counter. With a click, a collection of metallic fixtures now hanging from the ceiling shone thick beams of bright light, illuminating the round wooden stage. From the kitchen area came a portly, short Human in a suit, one with combed black hair and a dazzling smile. He stepped up onto the stage, holding a microphone in hand.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for dining with us tonight. We're hoping you're finding our service a delight, and are proud to present our first of two acts here with us tonight! Please give a warm welcome to the Woven Tale Troupe, and their performance of the 'Winter Giant'!"

Streiphen's eyes lit up with realisation as he scooched back towards the edge of the booth. The sound of clapping flared to life around the restaurant, a sentiment echoed by those of the Velvet Star with us. Streiphen and Sigura didn't take long to join in, helping to drown out the metallic clanging sound that Comnica made each time her hands came together.

From the back room came a group of six people, all of whom waved to the crowd as they arrived. The first to step onto the stage was a Kitsune, a 'Newblood' Tierakin with the skin of man and long blond hair. He wore elaborate gold and white robes, with long whiskers along his face that helped to identify his race. If the Fox-like ears and whiskers weren't enough, the four billowing tails swaying behind him told everyone what they needed to know.

The sight of him caused my body to tense up, sweat dripping slowly through the grooves of my form.

I'd never been afraid of Kitsune. They were an eccentric people, but not malicious. They were a 'Newblood' race of Tierakin, taking both Human and Animal-like features. In truth, they were little different from a Halfblood like what I used to be, if not more of a widespread, established people. Different from the fully Animal-like Oldbloods my parents had been, but... not me. There was no reason to fear them.

Then why was my body acting like this?

It was another irrational reaction. Another act of rebellion set up by my emotions to make everything more confusing and unnecessarily difficult than it had to be. After a brief wave, the man made his way to the far end of the stage, sitting on a wooden stool as he raised a pair of slender hands, golden light gathering at his fingertips.

The next to step forward was a man with blue-green skin. His short, light green hair looked heavy and crusted with white flakes that were too thick to be dandruff. Instead, it looked more like bundled flecks of salt. The tipped ears pointing straight up helped me identify him as some form of Elf, even if the gills along his neck and the loose, swaying clothes that would've put Sigura to shame made it hard to place him. He walked barefoot across the stage, crouching down once he'd stopped just shy of the Kitsune. I hoped that he had some resistance to the cold, or that he was only wearing those garbs indoors. The thought of walking around like that without fur or protections was bone chilling.

The others were far easier to place. A pair of slim Dolls formed from some sort of porcelain, with chalk white 'skin', stoic expressions, and formal looking yellow suits. Both walked behind the salty haired Elf, giving waves much like he did before crouching down. The last of the group was a Human with a pale complexion and a skinned head. He had a hard look in his eyes, one that might've led me to think of him as a [Thug] or [Mugger] if he wasn't about to put on some sort of performance. His clothes were plain for Divastyr, and the most reasonable outfit of all given the temperature, with insulated insides and a white furred collar.

The last of the group didn't take to the stage at all. She was a seven foot tall Inura woman, one with dark red fur and a light suit of darkly coloured metallic armor. Her Dog-like snout sniffed at the air, eyes glancing around the room. She kept out of the limelight that the rest of her 'Troupe' basked in, and began to use magic under the cover of darkness. Whatever she did appeared to distort the air around her clenched gauntlet, a spatial effect contained within a growing, malformed bubble.

"Please remember, everyone, that if you aren't here for the performances and would like some time to yourselves, the buttons beneath your tables will activate bubbles containing the [Silence] Spell localised to your booths," said the portly Human still standing in the center of the stage. "Without further ado, let the performance begin."

The man turned, passing by the skin-headed Human at the stairs, walking down the steps and out from beneath the limelight. The lights above the stage dimmed, thrusting the restaurant into near complete darkness. One light flickered on as the booth containing the pair of lounging Centaurs was closed off. A transparent bubble formed over their booth as one reached up from their salad to shut the curtains.

Much like the booth, a bubble formed up and over the stage as the lights went out. The Inura leaned down, placing their clawed fingers on the wood floor. The bubble slid out and up along the front of the stage, expanding over the air, creating what looked like a nearly transparent barrier.

Was it for protection, or something that would enhance the performance?

As interested as I felt, that speculation would have to wait. The lights above stayed off, yet the stage was illuminated in a soft glow. The Kitsune sitting at the far end of the stage was dimly lit as threads of golden light formed around his hands. His fingers moved with a graceful elegance that caught the eye. Each movement pulled more yellow threads from the Aera around his arms, woven into thick threads with all the skill of a master [Seamster]. The ends of the threads blurred and shifted as they coalesced around the ceiling.

Still retaining their glow, the colour shifted from gold to a dim blue. The magic threads of light overlapped with one another, forming a quilt of wavy blue casting light onto the stage. Amidst the sea of blue threads creating a makeshift sky was a white, shifting circle. The moon.

Even if it wasn't the real moon, seeing an elegant tapestry recreating it felt... relaxing. A sense of wonder crept into my mind as more threads appeared, sliding over the floor like writhing Snakes. When those threads found their destination, I understood their purpose. The light bent and coiled around the [Actors] on stage, creating makeshift costumes in motion. The 'clothes' formed of waving light moved in an ethereal way, something that regular clothing couldn't hope to replicate.

Brown 'hair' found the Elf's head, spilling over his short green mop like a glowing wig. More features were woven onto the man's form, with wavy dark blue scars, rough furred clothing, and a Bearskin headdress. His fingers were clenched around the hilt of a blade, one formed from the same thread as the rest. With boots held together by black bands, he trudged through the environment the Kitsune wove, leaving convincing marks in the 'snow' now blanketing the stage floor.

As mountains formed in the background beneath the blue sky, the man found the ruins of an abandoned village. Twitching bodies, which I had seen through the zone to be the Dolls wrapped in convincing light, lay dying in the snow, a pool of 'blood' forming around them.

Breaking the sudden silence, the man clad in furs ran on the spot as the background around him rapidly shifted and changed, simulating what must have looked like true motion to those with lesser visibility.

The man found nothing but broken houses in the background, and an assortment of squiggly, motionless bodies without [Actors] beneath. They were mere backdrops, setting the stage for what was surely the main event. While wandering through the village, the hunter's head snapped around, looking for something to blame. He pointed with his blade, indicating to the crowd a massive print in the snow.

It seemed as though the troupe had planned for many venues, accommodating those further from the stage and unable to see the floor. A white, puffy thought bubble appeared above the fur clad man's head, revealing the print for all to see. He fell to his knees, pulling free a small necklace from his pocket. It was made of real silver, glinting and reflecting the light of the threads all around it, illuminating the shape. At the end of the necklace's chain was a silver Wolf's head, one with jaws spread wide in a roar.

With trembling hands, the hunter clenched the necklace tight, burying his forehead against it. None of us needed to be from Scander to understand the meaning. It was a symbol for the Strength of the Hunt. Even without words, all knew that the man was making a silent oath to a Primordial. An oath that he would get revenge.

The man slowly rose to his feet, silently pocketing the necklace. Clenching his fingers around the blade's handle once again, his face twisted into a mask of blind rage. With a roar, he turn and ran through the village, passing by more squiggly corpses and mangled houses.

In the distance, a new form was taking shape as threads began to whirl and build as the full space of the stage was finally used. I could see pale white threads acting as a curtain, shielding the bald Human from view while he was swiftly wrapped in magical light. Part of me felt a little cheated to have been robbed of this little slice of 'stage magic', but I didn't want to let that sully my enjoyment of the show.

The threads wove into one another as the 'distant' shape came closer, putting the hunter face to face with a massive beast standing easily twice as tall as him. It was a colossal Humanoid of woven light that highlighted all the malice within its bulging arms and legs. It was clad in similar garb to the hunter, yet left the rough, hard looking skin of its forearms and shoulders visible. The monster's mouth was lined with vicious jaws stained with blood. It turned towards the hunter, swinging a massive wooden club that looked more like a bisected tree trunk than a conventional weapon around. Its hands had cracked the wood, and the creature's nails were formed of what looked more like a substance with the texture of ivory.

As much as I was getting swept away with the show, I could still appreciate the great attention to detail. I was no stage expert, but these people looked like they knew what they were doing.

With a roar from the man, and a shockingly deep roar from the monster, one that sent chills across the surface of my body, the two clashed. What followed was an exchange of blows that was far from calculated or refined. It wasn't a battle between two tactical masters, but from two creatures following their instincts and emotions. Their weapons clashed against one another, yet the hunter was causing more damage. Large as the 'Giant' was, the hunter was quick, moving with a speed that was either the product of practice and Skills, or a trick of the stage.

As the fight dragged on, some of the audience got involved, cheering on the hunter or clapping in tune with the clash of weapons. While part of me was concerned that the [Actors] would only get distracted by the response, they remained focused. They were professionals.

Wanting to better understand the fight as it neared its conclusion, I activated my [Insight]. The world changed in colour, yet the stage remained similar. Beneath the woven costumes of light, I could see the silhouettes of the fighters beneath. The Human had physically increased in size, yet despite that, still wasn't big enough to manually control the 'Giant'. I figured there was something else at play, but... it was impressive. No matter how I wanted to juggle the thought of it merely being an illusory stage and props, it was an impressive display of precision, control, and practice.

Watching the magic at work, I caught flashes of who these people were beneath it all. Hopes for fame. Love for the craft. Passion and confidence. Joy.

It was a beautiful sight, punctuated by the choreography of the battle as both combatants became increasingly tired. I lost myself in the impressions and motions of the fighters, and truly relaxed beneath my helmet. It was... nice, to have the freedom to observe Casters and the action of magic in motion without needing to worry and analyse. It was enjoyable to speculate, but I didn't need to think as critically. These people weren't going to be the next potential ally or enemy I needed to think about.

In the here and now, I could simply sit back and enjoy the show.

I wasn't the only one, either. With the exception of the Centaurs seeking privacy and quiet, the patrons of the restaurant had gotten lost, transported to the side of a hunter seeking vengeance against a wildly superior foe, fighting against the odds in the hopes of making things right. For just a short time, they could forget about the worries of their daily lives. None of them even considered the world around them. The crowd was united as observers enjoying entertainment.

"You can do it!" Streiphen yelled, leaning out past Fareel once again. With a brief note of annoyance flashing over his face, he got up out of his seat, allowing Streiphen to sit at the edge to prevent the boy from leaning in front of him as he tried to eat. Streiphen gratefully accepted, sitting at the very edge of the seat, looking out at the stage as Sigura's head hung over his, one arm on the backrest to steady herself as she watched the battle conclude.

It was in that moment that I felt a pang of guilt worm its way through my system. Everyone here was united in their enjoyment of the performance, yet Toya wasn't here with us. If he was... maybe he could have enjoyed this and felt a little closer to everyone, too. I knew that... maybe this wasn't what he needed right now, and that he just wanted space, but...

The hunter leapt upwards, swinging his blade as he cut through the monster's meaty throat. With a deep, gargled choke, the Giant dropped its club, both hands clutching at the wound as blood spurted out, seeping through its fingers. The monster began to stumble away, leaving a thick trail of reddened snow in its wake.

The hunter fell to his knees, the twisted rage and anguish present in his features giving way to relief and fatigue. An expression of sheer contentment. With a single, trembling arm, the man raised his blade skyward, bloody and victorious.

The crowd cheered and clapped, including those at our table. Even those that weren't actively singing their praises were clapping along. Not even the sound of Comnica's hands grating together with every clap could break the cacophony of joy.

Streiphen's arms pumped into the air, yet his expression faltered for a moment as the hunter collapsed into the snow, a smile on his face. The threads forming this make-believe world on the stage began to dull in colour, slowly turning to a deep, endless white, as though all were being swept away in a snowstorm.

The mountains, sky, and people were all covered and consumed, turning the stage into a makeshift curtain of writhing, interwoven white threads. Once the clapping had died down, the artificial curtain parted, revealing the group of [Actors] standing side by side, each clasping the hand of the person next to them. All of them, including the Dolls, gave the crowd a nod of recognition as the sound reached its peak.

I was a little confused by the nod. Back home, [Actors] would have bowed in response at the end of a performance, or so I'd read. Perhaps it was a cultural difference.

The lights overhead slowly grew in strength, returning to their former glory as the restaurant was lit once again. Letting go of one another's hands, the [Actors] stepped off the stage, and walked in a single file line to the back room. The transparent 'bubble' dissipated out of sight, while the Inura in armor was the last to follow.

"Wow..." Streiphen muttered, starry eyes lingering on the stage for a few moments longer before he swiveled, turning back in towards the table. "They were really good..."

"Yeah, they weren't half bad," Sigura smiled, leaning back into her seat. "Who were they?"

"The Woven Tale Troupe," Comnica told her, sipping from her thermos flask, which I now saw was filled with hot, melted copper. "They're an acting group that performs in Divastyr and the surrounding cities and towns. They're well known around here, and they're always performing somewhere."

"Meh," Marcian said with a shrug. "I could've done better."

While Lulu rolled her eyes, Sigura couldn't help but smirk.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you audition for the group then? Might be a better fit for you."

The man shook his head, sighing sadly.

"If I got up on that stage or joined their group and stole the show, what'd be left for the rest of them? People need to have livelihoods and earn their pay, y'know? I'm just doing them a favour."

Thankfully, the grin on his face indicated he was being sarcastic. Or perhaps I was being too hopeful. It was never easy to tell.

"As good at 'acting' as you are, even you couldn't replicate what the Troupe is capable of," Comnica added dryly.

"Everyone has their own skills, after all," Tizam smiled.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Marcian nodded, his expression relaxing. "I'm just glad they've got a Kitsune and a Shore Elf in their group. Otherwise they mightn't have even considered performing here."

"Don't sell them so short, Marcian," Tizam chimed in. "The Troupe is very down to earth."

Marcian only shrugged in response, tucking back into his meal.

"I thought that story was going to have a happy ending..." Streiphen said wistfully, his eyes somber and lingering on the stage.

"That was a happy ending," Tizam assured him, speaking up. "The monster killed those close to him, and he wounded it enough that it'd die on its own, and won't get the chance to Level and grow from their battle. He sacrificed himself to bring peace and safety to the land around him. He... died a good death, in a sense."

"Is there really a point to his death if he nor his people are alive to enjoy the safety the death of the Giant brings?" Comnica asked, her gleaming metallic eyes fixing on the Human. "If he had lived and abandoned the idea of revenge, perhaps he could have lived on and found happiness elsewhere."

"It's a glorious death, I guess," Lulu shrugged, looking up from her salad platter. "It's just an old Scandian story, Com."

"And if you really wanted to be thorough," Marcian responded. "It's a Laestrygonian, not a Giant. The people back then made the mistake, but real Giants are supposedly much bigger than that."

I shivered at the thought. The... 'Laestrygonian' in the story had already been twice as big as a Human. How big would a true Giant be in comparison?

"Looked to me like all of that could've just been avoided if the village had walls," Sigura said dryly, popping another chunk of fish into her mouth.

"Oh, it's a pretty old story," Lulu clarified. "Back before there were good [Geomancers] and [Builders] capable of making walls that could actually stop a strong monster."

"Back when life was just a fearful gamble with the odds stacked against you, huh?" Marcian murmured into his food. "Nothing like what we've got today. As much as a pain as it can be to get through those walls, they do their job well."

As the conversation slowly died down to a crawl of passing comments and observations, the lights dimmed once again. The portly Human stepped back up onto the stage, microphone in hand. Streiphen's eyes visibly lit up, glued to the back door.

"I hope all of you enjoyed the performance of 'Winter Giant' by the Woven Tale Troupe, but they aren't the only source of entertainment we've got with us tonight. Please bring your hands together to welcome an up and coming local [Idol] here in Divastyr, Bubblegum Pink!"

Bubblegum Pink...?

Sure enough, the door to the back room swung open, barely giving me any time to register what was happening until she emerged. A young woman with slightly tanned skin, black eye shadow, and reddish-pink puffy hair that complimented her pink lipstick. Part of me felt relieved when I saw she wasn't wearing her Velvet Star uniform. Instead, she wore a skirt, high boots, and a pink shirt that left me praying that she'd changed in the back room, and hadn't walked through the cold northern streets wearing that. She flew into the room on her shining violet broom, with the pink lip design on both sides. The pink Cat-like Familiar sat on her shoulder, just below the wide brim of an oversized neon pink [Witch's] hat.

Landing softly on the wooden floor of the stage, the portly Human gave her a nod before passing her by, handing her the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming tonight!" she chirped, her light, energetic voice resonating through the room. "I'm delighted to be here singing for you all, so thanks for having me! For my first song of the evening, I'll be performing 'Hot Pink Memory!'"

Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised to see her here. I'd seen her poster back at the shopping center, and she was a public figure. Nobody I could see looked worried that a member of the Velvet Star was here performing. Was it because they didn't know her as a member, or because of the trust they had in the group? I was inclined to believe the former, but I didn't wish to make any assumptions I'd later regret.

With a calm inhale into the mic, Bubblegum Pink began to sing.

Compared to the slow and steady pace of the performance preceding it, the fast pace of her voice and song felt like experiencing mental whiplash. As stunned as the shift had left me, I couldn't help but get swept up in the music. Her voice was perfect. Clear and loud. In another situation, I may have found the words and peppy inflection to border on being obnoxious, but the sheer, earnest emotion in every syllable washed away those cynical thoughts.

It was a beautiful song. A fast, almost hurried sounding melody. One that carried the desire to be seen, noticed, and remembered. A song that asked its audience what really stuck in the minds of the people.

What did it take to be seen and recognised? What did it take to persist even after everyone who'd known you was gone? Why did it matter so much to a person?

It asked why we needed to impress others. Why we needed validation and communication. In every sentence, I could grasp just how much the concept meant to her. It was a thought echoed in the eyes and expressions of the people around me. While some regarded the song as noise, shutting curtains and activating bubbles of [Silence], most found themselves enraptured by the pure, raw emotion.

"She's good, isn't she?" Marcian asked quietly in between the breaks of the song, smiling proudly. "The Don's not the only one who wants to be remembered, y'know? Even if she performs like this as a civilian and not as part of our group, that goal has a way of sticking around."

Wanting to be remembered. The message was clear to all that heard it.

It was hard not to get swept up in the woman's desire. The song begged those that heard it to listen. To get invested in her words. To notice. There was something 'magical' in her voice, yet there was nothing arcane about it. It was simply... passion. The catalyst for magic, in a sense, yet not magic itself.

It was easy to get lost in her words, in her expression of self.

In what had felt like the blink of an eye, the song had finished, coming to an almost abrupt, sudden stop. The cut in words had felt like a shock to the system, one that I could tell was an intended effect, if the grinning pink smile on her face was any indication. As the crowd erupted into cheers, clapping, and a whistle from Marcian, she gave the crowd a nod. Not a bow this time either, I noted.

"Thank you for the applause!" she exclaimed as the cheers died down. "I'll be back in two minutes for another song, so don't go anywhere!"

She swung her legs over the side of the broom hovering behind her, sitting on it once again as she drifted off the stage and towards the counter, where the [Bartender] was already preparing a tall glass of water.

"I didn't think I'd see her here," Sigura smiled. She had a voracious energy in her eyes, a sparkle that told me she'd been swept up in the music even more than I had. "She's pretty good."

"Right?!?" Lulu exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. I hadn't noticed it, but she looked even more energised than Sigura had. "She plays here a lot, actually, and she's gotten more than a few fans from her performances here in Freakies!"

"She comes here often, as both a customer and a performer. She's half Dhampir, and she makes that no secret at all," Comnica dryly said, looking up towards Sigura.

"Dham... pir?" Streiphen asked, his starry eyes turning back to look into Comnica's gleaming metallic ones.

"Half Vampire," Lulu clarified. "Or... a person born to a Vampire and non-Vampire. Her Dad's a Dhampir, so-"

"So she's quarter Vampire?" Sigura smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Weird."

"She doesn't need to drink blood or anything," Lulu assured her. "But she tans pretty easily, even this far north."

"Even if she's a sorta Vampire, she's a really good singer!" Streiphen said, smiling as he turned back towards the rest of us at the table. "Can we come to hear her sing again on other days too?"

As strange and stress-inducing as I thought this outing would be, I had to admit that I was... enjoying myself. My body had relaxed, and the fact that these people were easily conversing with my team brought with it a sense of relief. We were building bridges between ourselves and our new coworkers.

"Yeah, don't worry," Marcian grinned. "She'll be here singing a lot to save up for the Hunter's Festival. It's only a few weeks away, so I'm sure she wants to earn as much as she can before then."

The comment stunned me. Sigura's eyes widened at the thought, shooting a glance my way.

"A few... weeks?" Sigura asked hesitantly.

"That's right," Tizam confirmed with a nod. "It isn't too far away, even though it feels as though the year has only started. Time really flies, hm?"

A cold shiver ran through the full length of my form. I... had mixed feelings about the revelation, and clearly I wasn't the only one. Sigura looked about as conflicted and off-balance as I felt. This would... this would be my first time taking part in the Hunter's Festival without my family. As... distant... as they had been at times, it was something we'd always celebrated together before Year's End.

Yet... there was a measure of comfort in getting the news here of all places. With Sigura, Streiphen, and Fareel, my team, as well as Marcian, Lulu, Tizam, and Comnica, my coworkers, all here with me, it felt a little less like a stab in the gut.

I was far from my family, and far from home. The thought brought a deep chill with it, yet... looking at the smiling faces and joy-filled eyes around me...

Maybe experiencing the festival with the new community I'd found myself a part of wouldn't be so bad.