Promises of the Season's Turning

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Saun 35, 717

Scalvoris Central Square

Performance Inspiration

Have yet to write anything that corresponds to this sort of public square performance, but, Pash’s doppelgänger strikes again in awesomeness.

Immortals, the heat of Saun was relentless, cruel. It felt as though the season had dragged on and on, as if the end of the searing temperatures and lack of a night sky would go on for more trials than anyone cared to consider. The storms hadn’t brought any relief, either, just more death and some destruction. People were discouraged, tired, and oh so very hot.

So. Damn. Hot.

Pash had no idea how Kali’rial could stand to get any hunting accomplished in this weather, let alone how Scalvoris Town didn’t just cease to function. And yet, somehow, everyone did as they needed to do because to cease doing anything in this kind of weather probably meant you were dead from it.

While he could have been sailing, the seafaring musician decided to head into town and attempt to bring some relief of his own to whoever he could. Lute over his shoulder, hair tied up in some messy topknot to keep its sun-bleached weight from his neck, and his worn, leather vest open to what little breeze even bothered to flow through the cobblestone streets, Pash made his way to his favorite spot for playing music: the fountain in Town Square. He’d brought his little folding stool with him again, for while he’d found himself able to stand for long periods of time in Ashan and Ymiden, Saun was too oppressive.

The fountain was bubbling happily, at least, though the merchants in the Market were fewer in number than usual, too few sales or the damage from the storms having kept them away. There were still some shoppers about this break of the morning, though many of them looked impatient, hurriedly looking for what they needed before scurrying back to the cool of their homes or the shade. The tall Biqaj settled himself in front of the fountain, a recognizable ritual for him and a few of the regular vendors knew his name and his face by now.

He set about spending a few bits tuning his instrument, praying his music would be a relief and a blessing to those who heard it. By the time he looked up, settled into his seat and his calloused fingers finding their familiar places on the courses and frets of his grandfather’s old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute, sweat was already crawling between his shoulder blades and clinging to his brow. It was clear that for the moment, no one wanted to stop moving for fear they’d simply pass out in the heat that was rising from the ground and glaring down on all of them from the suns above.

Pash began to play, his tempo soft but staccato, mimicking the happy bubbling of the fountain behind him. His notes were cool and distinct, and as he played, he pictured the cool breeze on the beach and the refreshing chill of the surf, wanting to recreate that atmosphere within the sounds he strung together to form his improvised song. Anyone who passed by would feel it—a wash of relaxation that couldn’t truly impart actual physical cooling relief, but somehow managed to create a mental feeling of such an experience nonetheless. Saun would be over soon, and the tall Biqaj's music seemed to make such promises with a languid airiness.

Off Topic

My theme for Saun has been open threads. Come and stop by. No posting order. No pressure.

[Qit'ria]

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"Speech"

"That poison! No sell with food!"

A woman with bronzed skin, dark hair, wearing very little in the way of proper clothes was loudly accosting a vegetable merchant. She stood there shaking a large stalk of asparagus at him. The poor man wasn't one of the shrewd, lordly types of merchants, really just the unlucky son of a farmer to have been working the market today. She slammed her palm against his table, making him jump, the fistful of asparagus shaking wildly, "You dumb! Get rid this. Is not safe!"

The man, barely one, probably not even twenty arcs, was intimidated by the tattooed foreigner in her loincloth and leather blouse, a variety of knives hanging from her waist, a javelin tied across her back. "M-m-ma'am, I assure you, our vegetables are perfectly safe. We would never poison anyone. See watch?"

The boy grabbed one of the dark green stalks and practically shoved it in his mouth, while the woman watched with angry eyes. He forced himself to chew through it, preferring it to be cooked like any normal person. He swallowed it down, "See? They are not poison. Now please, buy something and go."

Qit'ria scowled at the man, but leaned back on her heels, crossing her arms. Why would her parents have told her and her brother those were poisonous if that wasn't the case? It didn't make sense. And she'd seen her brother eat one once, he broke out in hives, swelled up like a balloon. Yet this man ate it like it was nothing at all. Her brother's reaction was obvious from the moment he ate it. This boy seemed perfectly content, if a bit agitated, though that was his fault, in her mind.

Satisfied that it wasn't poison, but still not willing to risk it, she pointed at the head of cauliflower, "What that? How cook?" The man looked at her like she was a crazy person, in disbelief that she seemed so aloof after having accosted him. Rolling his eyes, a mannerism Qit'ria didn't recognize for what it was, "Ghost Broccoli. Stab it with a stick, and cook over a fire."

Qit'ria nodded, satisfied, since that was how she cooked all of her other foods, "I take that. How much coins?"

"Two coppers," the man said with a resigned sigh. Qit put down the coins and grabbed the head of cauliflower, and sauntered off, satisfied with her purchase. She moved through the market, wondering if this damnable heat would ever break. It made her miss the cool shades of her forest back home. At least she wasn't wearing her breeches today. She left her cloak back in her cave as well.

The sound of music made her pause. She smiled, the sounds reminding her of the simple boy back home that could play music on any instrument. He was unable to talk and also absolutely hopeless in every other aspect of his life, but his mother was a merchant. And she parked him near her stand every day to both attract customers with his melody, as well as to keep an eye on him. Qit'ria could feel her body relaxing, particularly after the stress of dealing with that 'poison' seller. She followed the sound through the market until she found its source.

There, by the fountain, was a man with long hair and a short beard, holding something that made the music Qit now heard. Qit wondered if he was one of those boat people, he certainly looked the part. Smiling, deciding to enjoy the distraction, Qit wandered over to him, smiling at the seated man. The music was nice, calming, and while she herself didn't know any of the specifics of musicianship, she could certainly appreciate it. She pulled a silver from her coin purse and set it on the fountain next to the man, before stepping back and sitting down cross-legged in front of him, her cauliflower in the crux of her lap. She slowly began to sway with the music, or as close as she could, only a moment offbeat, but certainly noticeable. Her eyes closed as she felt herself relaxing further and further, no longer worried about the heat or anything. Right now there was only the music.

Created by Yolande

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[Kali'rial]

35th Saun, 717

Ah, Central Square, with its bustling markets and rich culture of haggling to find the best price or the top product. The Sev'ryn huntress browsed various stalls and stands with a small smile on her face and no particular purchase in mind, bare feet moving to shaded spots as much as could be possible as the burning suns of Saun beamed down on the cobbled stones. Through the crowd Sarkis moved in spirit form, keeping himself always within a distance that he could see the Wolf-Walker, but not taking true form lest completely required to avoid causing concern or lingering stares from the market goers.

As she browsed, Kali'rial couldn't help but shoot a glance or two towards the fountain, appreciating the vibrant strumming that sang across the square. Each pluck and rhythmic vibrato on the strings of Pash's lute stirred her heart, passionate and honest in his music. If anything, the dark haired huntress could admit that it was the music that had caught her ear when they'd met, stirring her heart before she even knew the face behind the sound. Of course, that had been the first time she'd met the sunkissed Biqaj, right here in this same square. The first time she'd felt something more than just a logical analysis of a situation. The first time perhaps, she'd begun to live.

Poetic, really.

His song, lifted by the mark of Zanik, gave a sense of relief and relaxation to those close enough to feel it, and Kali was no exception. She breathed deeply, embracing the moment before turning her curious amber gaze to the sound of a rather loud and rather one sided argument. There was a woman, less than dressed for Scalvtown standards but acceptable for a Desnind local, terrifying the local vegetable merchant with a handful of asparagus.

Awful stuff. Kali had tried it once, and once was enough.

Allowing her feet to take her closer to the conversation, the Sev'ryn watched the interaction as it moved along, clearly the poor gentleman scoffing the raw stalks enough to quell the woman's ire. As she snatched a head of Ghost Broccoli and moved away, Kali's wolfish gaze followed her towards the fountain, taking note of the way the woman moved and the wild look to her outfit. It might be presumptuous, but the huntress was almost certain the newcomer was Sevir. Grinning as the change in demeanour took over the stranger, Kali watched the calm over take her as she pulled a coin from her purse and seated herself before the seafaring minstrel.

A curious Sev'ryn, a Biqaj bard and a silver nel all wrapped up in the Square. Ironic to say the least, that this scene was awfully familiar.

Shifting away from the stalls, the southerner moved towards the fountain, Sarkis in spiritual tow as she made her way to settle gracefully beside the foreigner. Sitting on her knees, Kali'rial nodded to the woman in greeting.

"He's pretty good, for a boat person." She said to the woman in Xanthean, glancing up at the bard with a warm smile. Pausing a moment, she continued the conversation in common, just to ensure that if she was wrong about the woman she covered both languages.

"Forgive my intrusion, I couldn't help but overhear your...discussion earlier. I'm Kali'rial, daughter of Desnind and the Great Mother Moseke. You're new here, if I'm not mistaken?"

[Pash Raj'oriq]

A few other market-goers had wandered past the seafaring musician, pausing to almost bask in the cool refreshment of his Elithem-augmented tune. His eyes were closed and he was, for several bits, quite into his music, and so the handful of people that began to form an audience went unseen at first.

The shouting drew Pash’s attention away from his music, however, tide pool eyes opening from his watery reverie to wash over his attracted crowd and then also the Square. There was a woman arguing with a vegetable merchant, or she had been, for she was walking away by the time he looked up, a handsome head of cauliflower her victorious prize. Instead of stalking from the market, however, the woman—a Sevir, the tall Biqaj was mostly certain—wandered in his direction.

He smiled, welcoming her presence as well as the others who had chosen to pause in front of the fountain for a few bits of refreshment.

She fished for a silver coin and Pash arched a brow, shaking his head as if to imply he wasn’t playing for nel or that he didn’t want it. Perhaps his movement was too subtle—he wasn’t out to insult her generosity, either—but she placed the coin on the wet stone next to the fountain near him anyway. He didn’t speak up, though, not quite ready to break the vocal silence while he watched the woman decide to sit and settle on the baking ground.

Pash may have chuckled at the familiarity of the scene, though the original vision felt much farther away than it really was—just two seasons ago was hardly far at all. He blinked and shifted his fingers on the frets and his plucking of courses, languid melody picking up tempo as he subtly changed his tune. The feelings of relief would be fading soon, anyway, for the seafaring musician could only maintain Zanik’s ability for a song or two, especially under the heat of Saun.

For a moment, his attention shifted, if only to watch another Sev’ryn approach—his.

The tall Biqaj returned Kali’rial’s smile with a grin, purposefully quieting his playing just noticeably to allow for better conversation once the huntress gave her attention to the other woman and her cauliflower. Allowing the two their chance to exchange words before he gave a greeting, he looked over his audience, the refreshing effect of his music waning slowly both with the relative strength of his ability and with his attention. One or two others had left coin, perhaps following in suit because of what the other Sev’ryn had done or because of their own need to express generous gratitude, though Pash no longer felt the need for such an exchange here in Scalvoris.

He would, however, perhaps need to keep such tips once he was traveling again, depending on the places they stopped at and the expenses they’d encounter. For now, however, what he made when playing in public was always given to his preferred Immortals as an offering at the Glass Temple.

A few people began to wander back to their shopping, and while Pash didn’t stop playing, his volume quieted a bit more and he inclined his head toward the two Sevir,

"Es’jah. Hello." He winked a greeting, shifting in his seat because he was already drenched in sweat and because he needed to move, "That’s a pretty decent cauliflower you’ve got there. Best get y’ some garlic an’ a bit o’butter b’fore y’ head home t’ roast that."

At least, that’s what he’d found made it pretty thanks to all of his delicious tasting experiences at Cally’s,

”Aye, I’m jus’ alright for a Biqaj, y’ could say.“ Pash smirked at Kali, perhaps making it obvious he knew a few more words than he usually let on and making it more obvious to the other Sevir that he knew the huntress, "An' I'm Pash. Nice t’ meet you.”

[Qit'ria]

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"Speech"

Qit'ria was broken free of the intoxicating, lilting trance the music had put over her, but she was not perturbed by the disturbance. Rather it was as if it were welcome, for the music only enhanced the scene, as the Sev'ryn huntress looked over to see a forestkin. The words that had floated off the woman's tongue brought a wide smile to Qit's face. Another Sevrin, and the lovely sound that was Xanthean.

"Aye, like the waves on the beach under the dark skies, with the forest winds moaning with it."

Her response was in Xanthean, watching as the woman smiled up at the bard. It was fascinating to find another of her kind here, so very far from home. She was the first Sev'ryn she'd come across in her time in Scalvoris. When the woman began speaking in Common, Qit decided to follow along. Though it seemed as though this woman, introduced as Kali'rial, spoke Common better than Xanthean. A curiosity that was. Just how long had this woman been gone from home? Would Qit lose her native tongue and only speak in the Common tongue well?

In Common now, Nice meet you, Kali'rial. I Qit'ria, daughter of Desnind, of Mother's forests." Smiling lightly, she turned a bit to face the woman better, speaking wildly with her hands as she would in Xanthean, but they didn't match up with her Common words. "Yes, much new. Come season past. Strange plant here, merchant not honest." Shrugging, "Is way of city, think I."

"What bring you so high on land?" She put a hand over her chest, "I look for," struggling to find the word in Common, "Forest friend. Big travel in hunt. Am close, me think."

Then she heard the bard speaking, and it seemed pointed at her. Turning to now face him, again in Common, "Hello swimmer of songs. Music nice, much," again struggling with words, "Waking sleep make."

But as the man continued to speak, Qit donned a very confused face at the words he used. Holding up the plant she had purchased, "This no is color flower. Is ghost barrackolee. Bad merchant say so. No look flower, no color." And before she could stop the spewing of words, "What this garlic and butter? Merchant say to stick burn it."

Turning to the woman, she switched back to Xanthean, "What's he saying? Did the merchant lie to me?" Qit could feel her temper rising, thinking she'd have to find this merchant and cut his tongue out for lying to her. Her grin was gone, replaced by a scrunched, growling visage of annoyance, though not directed at either of the new compatriots. "Nice meet you Pash Songswimmer. I Qit'ria, this Kali'rial," not having caught on that the pair knew one another.

Qit'ria waited in response, somewhat impatiently, already plotting out how to get this merchant alone to cut his tongue from him and feed to the beasts. Maybe with her eating knife. It was the dullest of her weapons, would be most painful.

Created by Yolande

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[Kali'rial]

35th Saun, 717

As the tall bard greeted the other woman, Kali couldn’t help but shoot a surprised glance at him when he answered her Xanthean comment, eyebrows high and mouth slightly ajar. Snapping her jaw shut, the Sev’ryn narrowed her eyes and chuckled. That was most definitely going to come up later, in private, where she could question the charismatic sailor on just how much he knew and how long for.

Turning back to stranger beside her, the brunette couldn’t stop the wide smile on her face. Yes she was most definitely Sevir, beautifully apt with the language of Desnind, more-so than Kail’rial. As Qit’ria continued in broken common, the huntress nodded.

”Well met, Qit’ria. I’m on my Osẹ-Bori quest, my ìṣọtẹ, searching for a sign. Following the call.” At the word ‘hunt’, the amber eyed brunette’s interest noticeably increased. Was Qit’ria a hunter too? It would be nice to have someone else to bring into the woods before she left for home in Vhalar. Blinking, she looked down at the cauliflower then back at the dark eyed woman with a shake of her head.

”No, merchant told you the truth. That is cauliflower, but some also call it ghost broccoli. It is...complicated here. Garlic is small bulb, nice when you mash it up and cook it with other food. Butter is...it is like rendered tallow, but it is made from the milk of animals. Is good for cooking things in. Like garlic, and that cauliflower.” Her hands moved expressively as she spoke in their native tongue, missing words here and there in her unpracticed Xanthean. Shooting the bard a grin, as though challenging him to translate their conversation, she chuckled as Qit introduced them to each other.

”I think we might know each other, Pash the Biqaj. Maybe? Possibly?” The tanned southerner teased, before turning back to the Sevir with a smile, revealing the game as not to mock the newcomer in error. She’d already stepped on one Sevir’s toes here in Scalvoris, the brunette was highly reluctant to make the same mistake twice.

”This one is my...áidà. Not Dabi Uaya though.” A blush rose to her cheeks as the meaningful words escaped her lips, not entirely sure she had been prepared to say them. Clearing her throat Kali continued, avoiding the bard’s gaze for the moment.

It was much to soon to think about such things. Surely.

”Did you say you’re here on a hunt? I’m not sure Scalvoris Town will give you any decent game. Hafrein and rodents mostly. But there’s a wood, a trials travel from here, where there’s plenty of game. Ibiti sngä’ikrr.” Finally dragging her eyes to Pash, she shrugged a little.

”Well, if you like a challenge.”

Xanthean Translation

ìsote = journey, áidà = love/heart, Ibiti sngä’ikrr = good hunting.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash shifted to stand from his little folding wooden stool once he realized conversation was the current of the moment, sliding his grandfather’s old mother-of-pearl inlaid lute behind him with the strap across his bare, tanned chest. He caught Kali’s look of surprise, his own expression warming and his eyes emerald for a noticeable trill. A calloused hand wiped the sweat from his forehead and then he raised them both to retie his hair up and away from his neck.

His lover spoke slower Xanthean than normal, it seemed, clearly attempting to test him, teasing him. Admittedly, he was only marginally better with Common than her own language, his eloquence in one tongue only possibly through conscious effort and practice while his grasp of the other through affectionate observance and curiosity. Truth be told, he enjoyed watching her hands just as much as hearing her words, though he often filtered what he heard directly into his more fluently Rakahi thoughts instead of using Common as his middle language, so had he attempted to explain to her how much he understood or had begun to piece together, he feared he could only have explained in his native tongue. Had she not picked up on a bit of pidgin? A bit of his people’s own trade speak given his propensity for its use?

He laughed at Kali’rial’s question, nodding to Qit’ria, moving to stand next to his wolf-walker lover, though he didn’t reach for her hand,

“Aye, a few seasons now, so it seems. We know each other well, it’s true.” Pash spoke simply of their relationship, frustrated by the limited definition of the Common word for love. Even the Xanthean áidà felt to have more depth of meaning in his opinion, though the words Dabi Uaya were new to him and he was left guessing their definition by context, something he was somewhat skilled at as a musician and a creative person. Her blush spoke volumes to the meaning, and he assumed the words referred to something more significant than simply in a relationship—a promised one or spouse,

“We’re together.” He admitted finally as if to make sure nothing was a mystery or at least that nothing was lost in translation, though his words in the language of the Sevir were rough and not at all well-pronounced. He got the idea across, though, winking at Kali as if to prove to her he knew more than she had previously assumed,

As for hunting, Pash smirked. He’d only gone to observe, and yet their time in the Sweetvine Woods had turned deadly. Most of Scalvoris was like that, beautiful and deadly, “Tsu, I’d start with th’ Sweetvine Woods an’ no’ th’ Scalroth Jungle, though both have their challenges an’ are full o’ deadly foul creatures more powerful than th’ average deer.”

[Qit'ria]

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"Common Speech"
"Xanthean Speech"

Qit could feel her anger and annoyance fading a bit as Kali explained everything, particularly when she switched to Xanthean. Hearing her native tongue truly was so very soothing. She kept seeing Kali shoot the bard glances and smiles. Qit'ria thought it was infatuation, until Kali revealed it to be them teasing with one another. They were mates. A huntress and a... musician? He was pretty sure, but he was just a musician. He didn't provide anything useful.

But she would be respectful for her brethren's choice in mate. The mood was lovely, and these were strangers, mostly. At least they'd have adorable babies. But as Kali spoke of a hunt, Qit had perked up. She hadn't explored the entirety of the island yet, but hearing of a wood, of a proper wood, by Sev'ryn standards was exciting. And yes, Qit'ria absolutely loved a challenge.

But as Pash spoke, she squinted and cocked her head at him. She certainly wasn't an expert on geography, but something he'd said thoroughly confused her. There was a jungle AND a wood on the same island? How? Surely it was too cold for a jungle to ever exist here, right?

"Jungle? You confuse. Jungle no be where wood are. Too cold."

Looking at Kali incredulously, "You'll have to show me this wood sometime, two predators to strike fear into the hearts of beasts there. But maybe leave him at home. I worry he might get hurt. I'd feel bad."

Her stomach then picked that moment to grumble loudly. But she didn't want to leave her brethren just yet. The mood was so peaceful, very surprising being within a city. City's were nothing but noise and stress, yet Qit'ria found herself more relaxed than she'd been in a long while. "I don't normally eat what others cook, but I don't normally meet forest brethren either. I think this might be a special occasion. Know any good places for food? Drink perhaps?"

Created by Yolande

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[Kali'rial]

35th Saun, 717

Kali grinned, glancing at Pash with a slow shake of her head. Clearly she was going to have to start assuming that if she spoke Xanthean, the talk sailor would probably understand some of it. Handy perhaps, in a certain way.

The huntress chuckled, eyeing the bard up and down at Qit’ria’s comment.

“He’s not a hunter, that’s for sure, but the Biqaj can handle himself. Yes, we shall hunt in Sweetwine together, Moseke bless the hunt.” The loud growl of the other huntress’ stomach was a surprise, not because of the sound, but because it reminded Kali’rial that she was hungry too.

“There’s a place that does amazing food, Cally’s, but it’s expensive. Fancy.” She rubbed her fingers together to emphasise the pricing, before frowning with a finger on her lips whilst she thought.

“The Knights Rest Inn and Tavern is good for the nel, and you can drink there too. Otherwise any of the vendors here do decent meals, easy to hold in the hand. Onna-stick.” She related the last comment again in Xanthean for good measure, shrugging at Pash.

“It might be good to eat? Shall we perhaps accompany Qit?” The brunette left out the bit about worrying for her brethren in the city itself. Not for Qit’ria as such, but more for the city. She was Desnind born, wild and free, unrestrained by the world. Scalvtown might not be quite ready for that yet.

“I could show you on a map where the woods and The jungle are whilst we eat.” The Sev’ryn said back to Qit with another smile.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

If Pash was at all aware of being weighed for usefulness or worthiness, he chose not to comment on it right away. Humility wasn't really in his rigging, and he was always one to prefer to be underestimated. Instead, he turned and folded up his chair, tucking away the coins that others had left for him into his pocket to bring to the Temple of Glass later as an offering to Zanik while the two Sevir spoke of hunting—something he was comfortable admitting was not a strength,

"Aye, there's a jungle here. Because o' th' volcano: Faldrass. An' Scalvoris has ... interestin' sand. Sands, actually." The tall Biqaj attempted to keep his Common simple. He would have liked to go into more detail about the interesting geography he'd come to discover about Scalvoris: the volcano, Immortal's Tongue, the snowy mountains to the north. The sands, too, were interesting in their rainbow colors and variant properties, but Pash's Xanthean was too limited and Qit'ria's common the same. There was nowhere to meet in the middle, except through Kali'rial. So, if she felt like translating, he was happy to give a bit of an overview, mostly centered around his own misadventures. He paused for only a moment at the comment that he might get hurt—the scar that was visible under his ribs behind his open vest still pink and fresh from the snowbeast as he talked—but chose not to give the other Sevir huntress an argument either way.

His lover spoke for him first, to which he grinned, rolling his sea-built shoulders in a shrug, "I don't hunt, no. But that doesn't mean I can't handle m'self in a fight, nelo qe."

Not that it mattered, this other Sevir's opinions. Kali knew. The forest was not his home and he humorously lacked the stealth to walk quietly in it, far too used to the listing and heeling of a sloop at sea. Perhaps in a few arcs' time, things would be different, given the influence his dark-haired huntress already had on his adventures.

Grinning at the mention of food, the seafaring musician nodded at Kali'rial's suggestions, working the mouthful of vowels that Xanthean felt like one more time, "The Knight's Rest is a good choice. My treat."

While the vendors around the Square were delicious, there wasn't really anywhere to drink and Pash could use some shade after half the morning under the suns. Waving a hand in the direction of the street, the tall Biqaj was more than happy show the way after taking one of Kali's hands in his, "As much as I enjoy th' onna-stick, it's prob'ly 'bout time t' get out o' th' Square before th' afternoon turns it into one giant oven."

As they left the Town Square together, Pash would point out a few other vendors worth visiting, the grocers who were usually patient and kind, as well as Cally's—where he and Kali'rial found themselves both employed—on the corner of the Square. There was also the Scholar's Nook and a few other businesses that may or may not have been of any use to Qit'ria, but the salty bard had come to know the layout of Scalvoris Town quite well over the past three seasons. He did his best to speak in Xanthean when possible, though it was clear his pronunciation was poor and his experience with the language was coincidental, not purposeful. What he'd learned, he'd learned purely by immersion in Kali's presence, and, admittedly, most of the words he knew just were not for public conversation.

Pash was relieved to find that The Four in Hand wasn't crowded at this break of the day, and the windows were open to pretend at a breeze. Once they'd found a table and settled, it was only a matter of choosing a meal and finding some conversation to pass the time.

Rakahi Pidgin Translation

nelo qe = thank you, but in this instance, it's used in a rhetorical or sarcastic way