“…So everything’s alright, then?”

“Seems so…” Gavon replied as he disconnected from a comms call. “The ‘dragon sighting’ wasn’t a false alarm, per se, but actually one of your Eximius Vir transformed.”

“Ah… right…” Luke responded sheepishly. “That does sound like Danielle…”

Gavon chuckled as he and Luke strolled through the busy streets of Compound Tresnon, taking in the late morning sights of Creators’ Day around them. “…I don’t think I’ve met Danielle, not for long,” Gavon eventually remarked. “Does she usually do things like this? Transform into monsters and accidentally terrify the locals?”

“Not usually, no,” Luke replied. “She isn’t one to scare people — not intentionally, anyways. I’d heard that she was working with my nephew on some kind of fantasy thing, so odds are, she just transformed into a dragon as part of that and didn’t consider the consequences.”

“That sure was an impressive transformation, though. I don’t think I know any Transtechnics who could manage a transformation that large and detailed.”

“That’s the Eximius Vir, for you. What did Selind say about it, though? Has someone gone to let Danielle know she shouldn’t be transforming like that?”

“Selind seems fine with it, actually. She seems to think that a ‘dragon sighting’ will scare off any potential Bleeder attacks in the near future, ah ha ha! So she said that she’ll get word out to the Compound that the ‘dragon’ isn’t actually a danger. Danielle should be fine, for today.”

Luke breathed a sigh of relief. “Good to hear. Danielle’s always wanted an excuse to turn herself into a dragon, so I’d hate to rob her of that chance.”

Gavon chuckled again. “I see. It’s true, a transformation like that isn’t incredibly practical on most battlefields. She’d be too large of a target, without the speed or range to compensate. Still, it’s certainly good to cut lose and have fun every now and then.”

“Is that why you’re leading us towards the food stalls?” Luke questioned with an amused smirk.

“You’ve seen right through me!” Gavon replied with a wink. “I’ve always been partial to a good snack on a holiday.”

“We have guard duty soon, too, so grabbing something to eat while we’re on the walls isn’t a bad idea,” Luke mused. “Although… I don’t recognize any of the food, here…”

“Honestly, neither do I…” Gavon remarked as the two men cast their gazes across the various foodstuffs adorning the stalls all along the street. A mix of healthy aromas wafted by on the wind, ranging from the sweet smell of baked treats to the salty, meaty scent of fried lakefood. The sizzling sound of actively used fryers could be heard off to the right, as some of the locals prepared their food at the very stall they served it from — while yet others, particularly those with baked goods, had come prepared with a day’s worth of treats. While not quite as colorful as most bakeries that Luke was familiar with, the local baked goods still differentiated each other through size, shape, and manner of preparation.

“…Got a sweet tooth, eh?”

“Huh?” Luke looked over at Gavon, only to find the Nimalian smirking at him.

“I saw your hungry gaze lingering on those kifa-like things,” Gavon remarked. “Go on, try some.”

“Kifa-like…? Oh, right, the donut-shaped things,” Luke commented, his attention drifting back to the items in question. They bore no icing or decorations, and so looked quite plain — and yet, still fresh and fluffy. “…Well, don’t mind if I do, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Gavon declared as he and Luke approached the stall. Gavon exchanged quick pleasantries with the man behind the stall before picking up two of the donut-shaped items, passing one of them to Luke. “Apparently, this is a stuffed kifa,” Gavon reported as the two men began walking down the street again.

“Stuffed with what…?” Luke questioned, but didn’t wait for an answer as he bit into the food item — only for his face to immediately scrunch up. “Fish?!”

“…Huh, so it is,” Gavon remarked after taking a bite out of his own kifa. “It’s… not what I expected, to be honest.”

“No shit…” Luke muttered, eying his kifa warily. “I was expecting something sweet, and what I got was… fish? I mean it’s not bad, necessarily, but… sheesh, talk about whiplash.”

“Why were you expecting sweet?” Gavon questioned as he continued biting into his food. “I mean, kifas usually are sweet, but they’re always salty or spicy on top of the sweetness. You don’t usually put meat in them, but fish isn’t too far off, taste-wise.”

“…I guess. Now that you mention it, I remember having a kifa back when I was on Sikalia, and it matched what you just described. It’s just… on Earth, we have a baked good that looks just like a kifa, called a ‘donut’. But donuts aren’t usually salty or spicy, or meaty at all. They’re just sweet.”

“Huh, I see. Interesting. You’ll have to show me one of these donuts, sometime.”

“If you ever find yourself on Earth, then I’d be more than happy to,” Luke commented. “…But in the present, we should probably get some actual lunch.”

“It’s true, kifas aren’t exactly a primary meal item,” Gavon said, and then gestured to the side. “…Well, there’s Mark. I’m sure he’ll have made a quality lunch.”

“You don’t say…” Luke deadpanned as he turned to look where Gavon was pointing. On the side of the street was the unmistakable figure of Mark, towering over all of the locals with his massive height and broad build — but more notable than that was the growing line extending back from Mark’s stall, all while he quickly yet carefully assembled sandwiches for each patron.

“Should probably get in line,” Gavon suggested as he and Luke promptly joined the queue. “…I can recognize a sandwich when I see one, but what are those other things Mark has with him? Those round, doughy things with the brown bits, and the yellow things.”

“Potato chips and chocolate chip cookies,” Luke replied. “Depending on where you are on Earth, chips and cookies are a staple to go with a lunchtime sandwich.”

“Hmm, interesting. Seems the locals are rather enthused.”

“I’m kinda surprised they’re so interested, actually. But I suppose chips and cookies fit in pretty well with the other stuff around here.”

“Indeed. They aren’t very ostentatious, either, so I’m sure that’s a draw for the Tresédians, as well.”

“When you put it like that, you make it sound like they don’t have any sense of style…”

“That’s not what I meant at all!” Gavon remarked. “Tresédians just have a different sense of style and aesthetics from most Nimalians. They don’t focus on color, so much as shape and texture.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Luke mused. “With all the sun they get, any painted or dyed item is bound to get sun-bleached before long…”

“Next! …Oh, Luke!”

“Mark,” Luke greeted as he and Gavon stepped up to the stall, standing across from Mark. “Looks like your stall is running well.”

“It’s certainly busier than I expected,” Mark replied. “At this rate, I might run out of chips and cookies halfway through lunch…”

“The locals like your food that much, eh?” Gavon remarked.

“It would seem,” Mark said, and then offered a sheepish smile. “Anyways, I’m sorry to hurry you, but there is a line…”

“Oh, right,” Luke commented after taking one glance behind himself at the five others already lined up. He then turned back to face Mark, saying, “well, if you’re asking for sandwich toppings, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

“Same for me,” Gavon said.

“Sure thing!” Mark replied as he grabbed some nearby sandwich rolls and deftly sliced them in twain.

“It’s always interesting to see foods from other cultures…” Gavon mused as he watched Mark quickly assembling the two sandwiches. “So, chips and cookies, huh? What are these made from?”

“On Earth, the chips would be made from a vegetable called a potato,” Mark explained. “You slice the potato into thin pieces, and then fry them. Add some salt, and you’re done. These chips, though, I made from eudaks.”

“Eudaks?” Luke echoed cluelessly.

“They’re a Nimalian vegetable,” Gavon said. “Originally native to East Nimaliaka, I think, but now you can find them almost anywhere… except Treséd.”

“Yeah…” Mark admitted with a sheepish smile. “I wanted to find something I could use to make chips with here in Treséd, but they don’t have any actual potato equivalents, here. So I asked Dean Densalin to make me some eudaks, instead. They’re at least Nimalian.”

“Well I can’t wait to try them,” Gavon declared. “They look rather tasty.”

“Thanks! And it’s a similar story with the cookies, really. I could make the dough with Tresédian ingredients, but for the chocolate chips, I had to use something from outside of Treséd. Still, I think they turned out fine.”

“You really set out to make people a full lunch, though, huh?” Luke remarked with a smirk as he watched Mark put the final touches on the fish and cheese sandwiches he had prepared for Luke and Gavon.

“The last time I had the chance to go all-out, well… things didn’t turn out so well,” Mark said.

“Right, Hunger’s Bane…” Gavon muttered.

“But today was a second chance to try introducing Earthian food to the Tresédians, all while using their own ingredients! …Well, Nimalian ingredients, anyways,” Mark commented as he wrapped the prepared sandwiches in wax paper. “Sandwiches are good to eat while walking around a festival, but Nimalians already seem pretty familiar with them, so I wanted to add an Earthian flair. Hence, the chips and cookies.”

“Well, it’s much appreciated,” Luke declared as he and Gavon accepted the sandwiches from Mark, as well as small cloth bags holding chips and cookies.

“This should serve us well while we’re up on the walls,” Gavon added.

“Oh, you have a watch after this? Hope it goes well!” Mark replied.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for the food, though, Mark,” Luke commented as he and Gavon began to leave the stall. “Have a fun rest of the day!”

“Of course!” Mark replied before turning to address the next person in line.

As Luke and Gavon walked off, Gavon glanced behind them, watching Mark for a second. He then turned forward again, passing Luke a quick glance as he remarked, “I see your Eximius Vir have talents beyond just their Chaotic abilities!”

“Well, Mark and Danielle do, at least,” Luke said. “Anyways, we should probably start heading toward the walls, huh?”

“Indeed we should,” Gavon replied, the two men turning down a street en route to one of the Defense Force stations around Compound Tresnon’s perimeter. “Let’s head on out, then! To make sure the locals have a good holiday!”

---

*

“Ahhhh, finally! A chance to stretch my legs!”

“Don’t tell me you’re complaining,” Twy retorted. “You’re the one who suggested we stick around to watch the show!”

“And I’m glad we did,” Sky replied, “but, c’mon, even you have to admit that sitting on your ass for an hour or two is a real pain!”

Twy simply shook her head and sighed of exasperation as she and Sky exited Compound Tresnon’s performance venue, stepping out into the crowds. The sun hung high in the sky above the sisters, beating down on everyone with its midday heat — though most of the locals paid it little mind as they busied themselves with finding and eating lunch.

A loud growl from Sky’s stomach drew Twy’s attention, at which point she gave her sister an amused look. “Hungry, are we?”

“Hey, it’s been a while since breakfast, you know!” Sky shot back, at which point she marched off into the crowds. “Let’s go get some lunch!”

“Hey, slow down!” Twy called after her as she quickly caught up. “…You really stop for no one, don’t you.”

“If people want to keep up with me, then they’ll find a way to do it!” Sky declared. “But really, just feel the energy in the air, sis! Everyone’s excited and showing their best!”

“Can’t deny that…” Twy responded as she thought back to the displays and acts that they had just watched. “There were a couple of short plays and some poetry reading, among other things. I didn’t expect to see that, given what we know about the Tresédians, but… well, I shouldn’t have judged, really.”

“They were all so into it, too!” Sky remarked. “Even though half of it was so dreary. Stuff about how the wastelands suck, or that one really depressing play about the Bleeders wrecking everything…”

“Yeah, but it was complemented by brighter acts,” Twy countered. “Even that play you mentioned — it started depressing, sure, but it still ended with the people of Treséd coming together to oust the Bleeders. That’s a nice message.”

“Ha! I guess even the Nimalians like a nice ‘power of friendship’ story, huh?”

“When you put it like that, it sounds so trite, but… I suppose that’s kind of what it was…”

“Still, the overall feeling I got from it all was kind of… bleak. Like they know that Treséd sucks, and they’re just trying to cope with it. There was barely any color in any of those performances — literally or figuratively!”

Twy released a weary sigh. “…Well, an individual’s circumstances does usually color the kind of art that they make. And if most Tresédians have depressing lives, then, well… this is what you get, I suppose. They can still find the silver lining in things, though.”

Sky passed her sister an incredulous look. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Twy replied with a nod. “I think what I’m talking about is exemplified best by that one girl who recited her ‘Sand on the Winds’ poem. Sure, on the surface, it was a poem about how easily life can be lost out in the wastelands, but she also talked about making the best of what you have, and enjoying what time you do have with others. ‘Even sand lost to the ocean/ can one day rejoin the dunes’.”

“That ‘sand lost to the ocean’ line is referencing how Tresédians mourn their dead, you know,” Sky pointed out.

“By pouring a handful of sand into the lake or a river, yes, I know,” Twy responded with a roll of her eyes. “But it clearly has a double meaning. The sand in the poem is also meant to be each of us. Each grain of sand is a person, and even if the winds separate you from your home, you’ll still eventually find a new one.”

Sky made a show of shrugging in resignation. “Whatever, sis. I still think it was a really depressing poem.”

“And I think you need to look farther than the surface,” Twy countered. “That’s the entire point of poetry!”

“Meh…”

“Songs are basically a form of poetry, too, and you like to write songs. Surely you can see what I’m talking about.”

“Urgh… don’t remind me.”

“Hmm?” Twy raised a curious eyebrow as she regarded Sky’s frowning expression. “…Wait, don’t tell me you’re getting anxious about this evening’s performance?!”

“What, I can’t be anxious every now and then?” Sky countered.

“No, that’s not what I meant, just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get performance anxiety, before. What’s different, now?”

“The audience, duh. Everything we saw today was so bleak. Hell, look around you, now; there’s some color in the tarps and the signs, but most of the actual art around here isn’t all that colorful. I feel like they’re all going to hate my song…”

“It may not be colorful, but color isn’t all there is to art. I’m sure they’ll like your singing.”

“Yeah, the same way they like outsiders, huh?”

“Compound Tresnon seems a lot more open to outsiders than most places in Treséd, you know. Even Creators’ Day was originally an ‘outsider’ holiday, and look at them now!”

Sky responded with silence as she turned to look around at the crowds around them. Excited conversation, jolly laughter, and energetic street music filled the air, while the people of Tresnon milled about amongst the many stalls, spending their time admiring art, browsing handcrafted wares, or eating food. And among everyone in sight, scarcely a frown could be seen. “…I guess they do all look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Sky eventually admitted.

“Exactly,” Twy insisted. “The existence of the Bleeder Reformation Program also shows that the people of Tresnon are very open-minded, all things considered. I’m sure they’ll at least give your song a chance.”

“…I suppose…” Sky muttered, only to take a deep breath and slap her cheeks. “…Right! What am I even getting so down for, huh? This won’t do for singing, at all!”

“There we go,” Twy responded, an encouraging smile on her face. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If anything, I think my mural is more out of place than your song.”

“Alright, don’t you start!” Sky interjected. “You can’t put yourself down immediately after cheering me up! That isn’t how this works!”

“…Right. You’re right. Sorry.”

“If you think my singing is gonna be fine, then I think your mural is gonna be fine, for all of the same reasons! I mean, c’mon, if you have room to have faith in me, of all people, then you can definitely afford to have a little faith in yourself!”

“And now who’s the one putting themselves down?”

“Ah ha ha…!” Sky laughed sheepishly, only to be interrupted by her stomach loudly growling again.

“…I suppose we’ve been milling about for a bit too long, haven’t we?” Twy questioned. “Let’s hurry up and get lunch.”

“I’m right behind you!” Sky declared, only to push ahead of Twy. With another exasperated sigh, Twy quickly followed after her, the both of them disappearing into the crowds of Creators’ Day.