23rd of Cylus 721
Zunylanih had come over on the flutterbus. Rharne had not been kind to them, not in any way shape or form. It had beaten them halfway to death into the gutter, pulled out their pocket change, stole their donkey and puppet set, and then spat on them for good measure. It was an unkind place, full of wine-sops and hardened brawlers. He did not enjoy it at all. There was a city there, yes, but none of the deadly civility of Quacia, where transgressions were paid for in blood. No In Rharne they might as well have encouraged fighting. In fact, they did!
Well enough thinking of that. As they lay in their partition of the flutterbus, Zunylanih shifted and changed into their most precious form. The carbon copy he'd made of Geneva, their most beloved icon. They took care of dressing her, in the new clothes that they'd bought. With an intimate awareness of her measurements and parameters, the clothes fit just fine. Almost as well as if they'd been tailored to her body, and not merely related to the seamstress. She looked into the mirror and saw how beautiful Safira really was. Instantly, a pang of jealousy arose from them. Would Ekohdene try to make a move on their precious Safira? Would Ekoh present as a man, and try to romance poor helpless Safira?
Ekohdene had sent word, via Uleuda, to Zuny that they would be joining them in Desnind. Zuny had gotten to know Ekohdene fairly well in his traversal into Uleuda. He knew that Ekohdene kept two forms, one of a biqaj female, and another a male human, middle-aged. Safira pulled the collar of her tunic snug around her neck, trying to cover what modesty she could, yet the way the garment was designed was far too flattering to allow for such modesty. Safira threw on a mantle of fox-fur, over her shoulders, and used that to cover that portion of her neckline. Satisfied with her reflection, she went about preparing, as the call had gone out to all passengers that they would be arriving in Desnind soon.
The Southern Continent. Safira knew it well, and Zuny themselves knew it well. They'd even travelled to Desnind in the distant past, in order to perform there on occasion, and on tour with Omesintihlih. Lost in the remembrances of the past, Safira barely noticed that the Flutterbus had stopped completely, and they'd landed.
It was still dark out, the dark of Cylus. She wrapped her hands in hide gloves, and pulled on her knee boots. This done, she deemed herself prepared to set off from the conveyance.
Safira idly wondered, as she descended from Moseke's landing, if Ekohdene had already arrived. Well, no time like now to start asking around. The only problem? She didn't know a lick of Xanthean, and barely enough common.