Menta abin idich Zilus. | Our Souls are alike.

Menta abin idich Dos. | Our Vessels are alike.

Ecom el etdich Dust. | We all share the same Home.

Abin kalum Zilus. | Have a good Heart.

The skies shift in color as the sun soars above the horizon and the clouds start coming in and out of view, the city’s busiest bees working day in and day out. It is a particularly overcast day out, the wind blowing in large bursts every time someone crosses through the business parkway in a hurry, almost. As the clock strikes 5, the afternoon shifts to evening, and droves of busy bees start to pour out of the building, including the incognito, redheaded future CEO.

Across the city, however, the incubus in disguise has been roaming around aimlessly on foot, trying to find the gas station that he saw last night. Dressed in rough-looking tennis shoes, torn jeans, a black tank, and crop top, he blends in inconspicuously… were he in the city, and not the outskirts of a neighboring town.

At least he decided to tie his hair up today.

Ke’tlan wipes the sweat off of his brow and looks up at the sky. The sun is pointing in the opposite direction of the moon last night, so he at least has that part correct. Digging through his clutch, he takes out a brochure he got at a gas station-- the incorrect one-- and pulls it wide, trying to identify where he’s going on the indescriptive map inside.

His brow wrinkles as he tries making sense of the map, sweat permeating from his forehead. Finding absolutely no leads whatsoever, Ke’tlan puts away the map, sighing. Looking both ways, he crosses over the street in front of him once the pedestrian light gives him right of way. Why is it so hard to find where anything is in this town, wonders the blond.

Ke’tlan gives up on trying to find the gas station and turns the search into a sight-seeing trip. Walking around for 4 hours definitely takes a toll on the body, regardless if you are wearing the proper footwear or not. He glances every which way to absorb the town’s culture through local businesses, roadside entrepreneurs, and the occasional pet walker. As he waits for the next pedestrian signal to change colors, one such walker approaches Ke’tlan: an elderly woman with her sentient mop of a dog walking besides her.

“Hey dearie,” she says, patting Ke’tlan on the back. “Are you lost? You look a far way’s out from the city.” Her splotchy, tanned face wrinkles into a gentle smile when Ke’tlan turns around to look at her. Ke’tlan sighs with relief.

“Yes,” he admits. “I have been trying to find this gas station for four hours, but this map has not been reliable in the slightest for me.” The blond reaches into his clutch to pull out the brochure map he has been using to guide himself. The older woman chuckles.

“Do you not have a phone, love?” she asks gingerly, shuffling her hands into her skirt pocket and pulling out her cell phone: a slender, black-screened phone, made bulky from the mosaic-patterned case protecting it. Ke’tlan looks down at it curiously. “These can do more than talk and type, you know.”

“Unfortunately, I do not,” Ke’tlan says with stinted laughter, scratching at the base of his neck. “Do you know where I can get my hands on one of them, no strings attached?”

“Sure, no problem!” The elderly woman chuckles, slightly tugging on the leash in her hand as to tell her pet to walk. Ke’tlan follows behind as he is guided down and across streets, before stopping in front of a strip mall. “That Hermes Communications over there,” she says, pointing towards it with a red-capped fingernail, “is where you’ll be able to get a phone, pretty simple. Oh, and stop by the bakery next door. Their turnovers are absolutely fantastic.”

Ke’tlan smiles. “Thank you very much.” He digs through his clutch and procures a small, crystalline shard, shimmering white with energy. “I hope this is acceptable payment for your work,” he says, placing the warm, humming crystal into the elderly lady’s wrinkled palms. Her eyebrows raise when she feels it tickling the center of her hand.

She grasps her hand closed and pockets the other-worldly object, softly chuckling to herself. “Thank you for the kind gift, dear,” she says, smiling. “It is lovely. Do get moving though, it’s getting dark and I don’t know when they close.” Ke’tlan nods in acknowledgement as the lady skitters away with her shag-rug-on-legs bounding in front of her.

Ke’tlan takes a deep look at the strip mall. They’re all typical brick-and-mortar stores placed side-by-side. Some of the signs have people doing various activities, others are of simplistic flora sprouting from the ends of text, and others are just text, with small logos embedded in the text somewhere. The Hermes Communications logo, like the Kim’s sign, had a wing incorporated in the logo.

Ke’tlan starts to walk towards the Hermes building when suddenly, he hears a compact engine revving behind him; he instinctively sidesteps the passing two-wheeler, despite it coming nowhere near him. The blond sighs and rushes himself to the sidewalk within the strip mall. After catching a short break to brush himself off, he walks to the store to buy himself a phone.

Meanwhile, the motorcyclist in black threads parks their vehicle in front of the strip mall’s cornerstone building: an automotive parts store simply labeled “Daedalus”, its curved serifs preceded by a bronze, compass-inscribed globe. Short, red hair flows from the helmet as it’s removed with gloved hands and is fastened securely to the side of the bike. Keys are pocketed, and a phone is pulled out: a notification from Katherine is present on the display.

“I heard from the grapevine that u were released early today Val :P”, reads the text message. “Gonna stop by Skye’s 4 a bit? I know youve been waiting to see him for months.” Brown-streaked, jade eyes shimmer as they stare at the screen. Valdas smiles.

“You already know I’m outside his shop. Will send him your love,” Valdas texts back, and pockets the phone. He unzips his leather jacket, a plain white tee underneath, and takes booted step with booted step towards the building.

The interior of the building is what you would expect from a typical automotive parts store: the walls are lined with wheels, multiple labelled stands carrying parts and accessories such as oil and batteries, and in the very back sits a general service counter, a sole employee standing behind it. The broad-shouldered man is decked out in an aviator’s jacket and jeans, brown heavy duty boots and fingerless gloves. His orange hair is shoulder-length and unkempt, and his face is decked out with stubble that shimmers as he sways back and forth with the store radio. Valdas walks straight towards the back of the store, and the ginger’s emerald eyes land square on his face.

Both of them walk, then run towards each other, and the broad man lifts Valdas up into a tight bear hug. “Val!” he shouts, chuckling. After half a minute’s embrace, Valdas is brought back to his feet. “It’s been an awful long time since I’ve seen you. How’s it been?”

“Not much, Skye. Just been working my ass off just to make my family happy.” Valdas scratches his head with a snicker. “The usual. How’s the Great Skylar Goodfield doing in this fine climate; got your approval from The Board yet?”

“Oh I wish”, Skylar gruffs, leaning an arm against one of the display cases. “Ever since what happened to Kat’s parents, I don’t think they’ll allow anyone to pass the Zelotian Walls without full governmental support. I’ve been making the best of the situation, though; got some more contacts in case I ever wanna travel northeast.”

Valdas’ eyes look mesmerized as Skylar talks. “How’s Stace and the kids?”

“She’s good, they’re good.” Skylar chortles. “The little ones are old enough to start getting real excited about their pop being a ‘big ship guy’. Now every time I go somewhere even the littlest bit remarkable they’re on top of me, asking me where the souvenirs are.” Skylar places a large, tanned hand on Valdas’ mop of hair, and rattles it around. “If your parents weren’t the knee-jerky type, I’d take you to see the skies with me someday.”

“Yeah, if only.” Valdas starts walking down the aisles and picks up stuff for his bike: oil, polish, coolant. Skylar gets off the display case and starts to follow behind his friend, listening intently. “My tight-assed parents wouldn’t even approve of my natural hair color. Imagine if they found out about that, or the fact that I wear contacts when I go out. You wouldn’t know that I’m in my late twenties with how tight-ass they are.”

“Why not rebel entirely and break communications with them? I know they basically pay for your room-and-board, but you could always live with me and Stace... and the kids. We definitely have the room to accommodate you, and you won’t be a burden. Hell, I’ll put you to work if you need me to, I know just the sort of jobs you’d be perfect for.”

Valdas walks down the aisle and dumps the products in his arms into a corner-basket. “I couldn’t do that to you guys.” He lifts up the basket. “Plus, things would feel awkward, being around your kids and spouse all the time.”

“But you’re Uncle Val!” Skylar gives Valdas a quick hug from the side. “And Stacie already knows about our past. She’s fine with you being around.” They both sit in silence for a bit, the store radio kicking on a cheery oldies tune after minutes of gentle, unassuming instrumentals. Valdas’ face starts to flush, and his eyes begin welling up in tears.

Then the door of the shop opens, which catches their attention.