Krim chirped to the beat of a Thawed song. Something Reveria noticed, inviting her to lifelessly follow along with her head.
"This place is so lively, huh? Wish our seas back home could be like this," a warrior commented.
Heavy drums echoed throughout the port, attracting Variants to the sound. When they arrived to the source, they witnessed Thawed stomping their feet and chant in Philious.
They were performing for the Nine, a ritual they did every day to ensure the next day's catch was plentiful. It was a strange thing to witness, but brought insight to their culture.
It was the thing that caught many eyes into Thawed history and legends. Their tales and rituals, down to even every single sub-specie of Thawed.
"Very good meal, I can tell," Krim commented as they stepped through the icy roads. "Fresh smell, its a sign. It needs to be eaten by tonight!"
"Hey, I like that! Want a Softscale or two? They taste amazing when boiled," an icicle called out to Krim.
He very happily approached her, keeping his eyes fixed on the fish she had laid out over the counter. The Softscale in question were rather large.
Going from one end of the counter to the other. And like their name implied, they had cyan and white scales around their bodies. On their belly, they dawned a birth mark. Sometimes a purple-ish spot and rarely an odd green one.
Reveria, along with a few of their warriors, followed behind him. They examined the strange creatures on the table, curious of what they were before they died.
"What are these things?" Reveria asked, forcing her lips to move.
The icicle quickly straightened her back and pointed out to sea. "These are Softscales, big and delicious. My favorite type of fish. Hey, if you got a Thawed friend, you could give them one of these."
Krim excitedly chuckled as he picked one up. The frigid scales lingered on his naked palms, waiting to feel what's going to happen next. It weighed well, perfect for a Feral.
He unlocked his maw, then slowly brought the side inside. Like a trap, it clamped down and tore out a piece. The icicle laughed, smiling cheerfully as the visitor thoroughly enjoyed the catch.
"Delicious, yeah?"
"Very!" Krim spoke through a stuffed mouth. "It has a pleasant taste to it, I can't describe it. Hey, Reveria, take a bite!"
Reveria flinched away from it, closing her fists in preparation. "No, I will not 'take a bite.' I have manners, you animal."
While the group focused on the Softscale Krim held in his hands, Tinzor and his own group admired the show. They watched Ferals join in the activities.
Females stood alongside the drummers, they hummed and used their near-angelic voices to add into the song. While more Ferals danced alongside the Thawed, except they weren't stomping.
They were effortlessly tearing the skies with backflips, dashes, and tackles. Which surprised Tinzor, he thought they would struggle to move beneath the weight of their overgrown hair.
He hugged himself, slowly drifting his head down to the ground.
Deep down, he wished Silsa was there to witness this. He was aware they were coming to Yarno at some point in the future. He even told Silsa about it.
Which excited the little one, coming over to visit somewhere new. But with that hope of seeing Yarno, he died with. Alone, like a Yomie-less Yonie. In his bed without any food in his belly.
A warm tear rolled down his cheek, he lamented not bringing him sooner. Back then, Silsa saw it was a method of finding a family. One that adored him. With that would come his real partner.
However, that little dream never made it through. Now Tinzor stood as Encur's new leader, but broken on the inside.
"Is it getting to you again, Tinzor?" a warrior asked.
Tinzor sighed. "I can't get over it. He was so innocent and loving. Silsa deserved better, all he ever wanted was to find a partner in life. But... you know the rest."
The warrior nodded, agreeing with his sentiment. "It is hard when the Nine claim a life. Even the hardiest of souls know this much. There is no 'but' to this situation. Only a memory to treasure."
As the group enjoyed the show, Krim and Reveria interrupted them. She drove a destructive punch right into his gut, which only made him crack up.
Seeing how ineffective her attack was, Reveria grunted in frustration. Finally caving into Krim whacking her with the Softscale.
Warriors laughed along, enjoying the banter the group had. All except for Reveria, of course. Who crossed her arms and glared into Krim's closed eyes.
Everyone in their group enjoyed themselves for the rest of the day. By the time the second moon rose over the horizon, the port became a lot calmer.
Most Variants either left or went to bed inside the nearby homes. Leaving the Infinus forces outside, staring out into the moonlit seas beyond the port.
It was a wonderful time for them. Each warrior wished their allies that visited in different groups had the same experience as them. All the laughter, music, and fish satisfied their bellies.
So much so that they did not want to leave, not yet at least. They wanted to see these ships up close. Maybe even learn how to catch Softscales and witness the vessels dart across the arctic waters.
Cool oceanic winds breached to main-land. Bringing the salty scent with it, something that disrupted Krim's senses. Prompting him to rub his nose on anything to clear it out.
Tinzor stood underneath one of the road lights, looking down at the cloth he wore around his waist. It was Silsa's bedsheet, the same one he died under.
As a method to remember the little one, he tore up a piece and kept it on his armor. So he could continue to fight under his memory.
The Third and last moon quickly rose over the horizon, he remembered. If they weren't quick, the would lose out on sleep. So he ordered the warriors to rest. Ensuring they had the energy for the next day.
For the elites, they did their own thing. Krim continued to struggle against his senses, and Reveria lingered on a memory of her own.