A Darigan Out of Water

     “Fresh ice cream!” the Blue Buzz shouted while their partner, a Red Buzz, scooped. “Mixed with ice, magically preserved from our family’s ice house! Come see what the [i]buzz[/i] is about!” Above them was a bright pink banner featuring both of their smiling faces and the words “Busy Buzz Ice Cream.”

     A line wrapped around the block with a group of Neopians from all walks of life clamouring to have a taste.

     “A scoop of chocolate for me, and vanilla for my brother, please.”

     The Blue Buzz seemed briefly taken aback, judging by the way his gaze travelled between the short-spectacled Yellow Aisha in a knee-length skirt and light blouse, and the far taller Darigan Eyrie wearing all black. Nonetheless, he quickly provided the change while his partner handed them cups with little spoons.

     The two of them walked to a nearby bench, with the Aisha shoving a big chunk into her mouth and letting out a satisfied sigh. When she saw her companion taking furtive bites, she said, “It’s really good, Serian—I promise! I loved ice cream as a kid.”

     Serian raised a brow before taking a bigger bite and swishing it around in his beak. “One of your ‘future foods,’ Lisha?” She nodded. “It’s not bad, I guess.”

      “Not bad?” She elbowed him gently before leaning over to whisper, “I saw your ears wiggle—you totally liked it.”

     The Eyrie, despite his intimidating appearance, looked downright bashful as he sank into the bench and took a few quick spoonfuls of the treat.

     Lisha scraped the last of her chocolate ice cream into her mouth with a grin. “There’s more where that came from when we head to Seaside next week.”

     When Serian stayed quiet, she continued, “You’ll be joining us, right? After everything that’s happened, it would be good to kick back and relax.”

     Placing the now-empty cup between them, the Eyrie sighed, resting his head on his fist. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

     “Why not?”

     “Well, considering how long it’s taken for most Neopians here—“ as he said this, a well-dressed Lupe in a top hat yelped and scurried away the moment their eyes met, “—I’m not sure if heading to a remote part of Meridell would be in my best interest, especially considering…” he shook his head. “We have… a history there. And also…” he trailed off. When Lisha looked curious, he waved the thought away. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

     There was sadness in his face that echoed in his colour-changing eyes. Lisha leaned against him, her face half-buried within his fluffy black ruff. “It’s important to me.”

     ~x~

     Back at the training yard, Serian drilled his sword techniques alone while Lisha left to pack for the trip. Sweat trickled down his back and face from the beating sun. He wiped it away time and again, continuing on as if an Eyrie possessed.

     It took some getting used to, the hot Meridell summers. Living in a flying citadel meant cross breeze, and plenty of it, not to mention the elevation effects. Many Darigans had adapted to the harsher climes by having thicker coats and ruffs, a natural barrier from brutal winter cold. Some of the Darigans that lived in Meridell now had to trim their fur regularly in the summer or wear extra light clothing to prevent overheating.

     The idea of a breezy beach sounded… alluring, Serian had to admit. Growing up in the Citadel, water not used for survival was a luxury reserved for only the wealthiest nobles. And even then, they would have private lagoons to lounge about, certainly no large lakes or waves.

     As a child, he and Eddie would get themselves into mischief, stealing away in the night, wandering the city streets or flying atop mansions to watch the stars. Just once did they sneak past a guard Noil, to use a particularly luxurious lagoon. The surface glistened so beautifully in the full moonlight. Just seeing it up close, feeling the water beads run between his paws… it was magical. It was also then that Serian learned… that he could not swim. The panicked noises he made not only alerted the estate guards, but also nearby watchmen. They escaped, albeit barely, with Eddie—a petite Korbat—barely pulling Serian out, sopping wet and too heavy to fly. Thank the spires above, they knew the back alleys better than Darigan’s patrol.

     Looking back, it almost seemed nostalgic, even if the thought of that deep water made the Eyrie involuntarily shudder. …It was a miracle that all they received was a week of the worst chores and a severe scolding from the Matron when they came back hours after bedtime. Had she learned what they had done… well. Some thoughts were better left unfinished.

     Slicing forward, he cleaved the straw training dummy in two. When he heard clapping, Serian whipped around to see Sir Rohane, the Meridellian hero and his self-proclaimed rival, leaning against a sword with a smirk, one Blumaroo paw atop the other. Even wearing metal gauntlets and light plate armour, he looked less overheated than Serian did.

     “I kept calling your name,” Rohane started with a shrug, before taking a few steps closer, “but after the fifth time I tried a different approach.”

     “Sorry.” Serian rubbed the back of his neck, brushing back his purple and black ponytail as he did.

     “Don’t be.” Rohane gestured to the pile of straw in front of them. “It looks like you had some stuff to work through.”

     “Something like that, yeah.” Serian took up a defensive posture, to which Rohane responded in turn. “Nothing a little spar couldn’t help with, though.”

     Rohane spun his sword in a circle and pointed it forward. “I couldn’t agree more.”

      Both of them volleyed between strikes, blocks, and dodges until Serian held up a paw, panting. “Confound… this humidity…” he choked. Comparatively, Rohane seemed quite comfortable; perhaps unsurprisingly, given that he grew up in the Meridell countryside. After sheathing his sword, Rohane handed Serian a waterskin, which the Eyrie greedily partook. The two of them sat in the shade on hay bales, feeling the slight tickle of a breeze before the Blumaroo finally spoke once more.

     “I think you’d enjoy Seaside—I was there for a bit during my travels. Nice town.”

     Serian tensed. “Did Lisha—“

     “No.” Rohane waved the notion away. “From all the times we’ve trained together or just spoken as friends, you’re worse at relaxing than I am.” Before the Eyrie could protest, he continued, a twinge of amusement in his voice, “And since Velm isn’t here right now to lecture the [i]both[/i] of us about good health… I figured I would have to be his stand-in.”

     Suffice to say, Velm had a reputation for being the group's parent and would frequently nag his teammates about eating their vegetables and getting proper sleep. He even went as far as to lecture [i]Jeran Borodere[/i] over a fight he had with Rohane in the pouring rain, which resulted in both of them being sick for days.

     The Eyrie massaged his temples before letting out a groan.

     “We’ve been through a lot the past few years, Serian… things are finally starting to slow down.” Rohane hopped off the hay bale, plucking a straw from the top of his long tail. “Jeran is too proud to admit it… But you’ve been a big part of that.”

     Perhaps a break was in order. Perhaps enough time had passed since those fateful days of service to Kass and his cruel crusades. Maybe he could finally feel okay with existing as himself, without a task or goal to keep his mind occupied from the darker thoughts.

     As if Rohane could read the brooding Eyrie’s mind, he added, “… Besides, I plan on bringing some light weapons with me. It would be good to get practice fighting on the sand, and there’s less humidity by the beach.”

     It was then that Serian began to chuckle. Lisha, Kayla, and Rohane—heck, even Jeran—had an odd way of caring, but they knew him all too well. There was a reason why the girls called him, Rohane, and Jeran, the “meathead trio.” And it was true that he hadn’t fought on the sand before—not that Meridell had many deserts—and the largest was teeming with undead spectres that rarely, if ever, left their haunted home…

     Serian cracked an amused grin. “Alright, you win.” There was a slight flutter in Serian’s heart that he passed off as nerves. “Let’s spar on the beach.”

     The trip to Seaside was a long one. Carriages pulled by gigantic Turtum plodded along dusty dirt roads past expansive forests and the occasional small village. More than once, Serian considered flying, but thought better of it, especially with his old injury from the war. At least Lisha made for nice company as she chatted about maritime ecology, famous authors from the Seaside area, and the occasional piratical incident.

     The petpet driver gave an excited holler as they approached their destination. From the hillcrest, Lisha and Serian looked outside their curtained windows and let out an awed gasp. Beyond a sprawling town, glittering water stretched over the horizon. It looked like a second sky, continuing into infinity. A salty gust blew against Serian’s face. It was less like the Citadel’s harsh air and more like a soothing song. He took a long, deep breath as the carriage began its descent.

     Merchants with thick accents, some of which Serian couldn’t place, bustled around the town. Some called out from wooden carts filled with bright yellow and brown fish, while other Neopians haggled over prices. One particularly ripe cart made the Darigan cover his beak.

     “Those are bread and butter fish,” explained Lisha, pushing up her glasses as she often did when she was in teacher mode, “a staple of the food here in Seaside. There’s also lesser spotted fish, blandfish…”

     The fish didn’t catch Serian’s eye, though; it was the buildings within the main town square. During the Kass War, food production places, such as Seaside, were targeted to prevent resources from reaching the castle. According to some of his former colleagues, this led to a lot of destruction and displacement… evident by the scarred buildings and the small, gated family plots. Between a traditional seaside cottage sat a fruit market with a thatched roof, and on the corner, an oddly Dariganesque brick store with pointed spires.

     The carriage came to a stop in front of a brightly colored building. Serian’s eyes widened when he saw a Darigan Uni flutter around the rooftop, thatch in hoof, presumably repairing the structure. An Orange Kacheek with braided brown hair wearing floral patterns and a distinctly Darigani-style necklace opened up the carriage door and offered a paw to Lisha, who politely declined. No one there seemed to bat an eye in Serian’s direction beyond curious glances.

     At this point, the knights had gathered up around the entrance. Many of them wore casual clothing, with breeches that only made it to the knee, or sleeveless tunics. In contrast, Serian wore an all-black, long-sleeved robe.

     “Avast, ye landlubbers!” announced the Kacheek, “I be called Henry. May ye enjoy spending time with all o' yer hearties. And if ye 'ave any riddles, I will be yer guide.”

     While the knights let out a cheer, Serian tilted his head to the side and squinted.

      “He’s saying to spend time with your friends and go to him with any questions.” When the Eyrie gave Rohane an incredulous look, he explained, “You pick up a few things when you travel as much as we did.” There was a slight pause. “Although this town’s a lot livelier than I remember it being before.”

     Serian’s gaze drifted to Rohane’s pack, where he would surely be keeping his defence items. Before he could ask, the Blumaroo assured him that “later, when the sun was lower, would be the perfect time to practice… after a nice dip.”

     After a quick orientation of the amenities, the majority of the knights sprinted towards the water. Only a few Neopians, Lisha included, lounged across long beach chairs. Meanwhile, Serian sat under an umbrella in a long chair and stared longingly at the ocean. The sand felt soft and warm to the touch, which he admitted was nice, but the wrong step sent crabula scattering in every direction. And one of the accursed things had already pinched his tail, giggling as he quickly dove into an underground hideaway.

     A tall glass of something sweet passed into Serian’s periphery. It was Henry with a tray of frosted mugs with juice and little paper umbrellas. “Oi, scallywag. Do ye want some grog? Or ye can ‘ave fruit juice.”

     Serian reached for the mug and took a swig before extending his thanks. But instead of lounging, he had something more pressing to ask. “How long has Seaside been like this?”

     “Like this?” he pointed to the mixture of different buildings, the seaside vendors selling everything from spiked thornberry cakes to some sort of small, long-armed pink creature on a stick, and art the likes of which the Darigan had never seen. “Fer a couple o' years. We had scallywags from around the world helpin' t' rebuild the town aft the war. Now it's a destination--we be mighty proud o' how far we've come since then.”

     “It’s pretty impressive how quickly your town has grown in spite of…” Serian hesitated, his ears falling back. “Well, in spite of everything.”

     The guide shrugged. “We are stronger together. Dat's how we made it happen so smartly.”

     During the war, many rebels escaped the Citadel to lands beyond the Tri-Kingdom in hopes of finding anyone who would aid in the resistance. It certainly would explain how they recovered so quickly after the attack…

     And then when the Tri-Kingdom Summit took place, Neopians from previously warring nations came together in ways that the younger him could never have imagined.

     The world he knew growing up was quickly changing… even against the efforts of Neopians like Kass who tried to place it all under his thumb.

     Placing his finished drink on the tray, he replied, “If only the whole of Neopia would agree.”

     The Kacheek smiled gently before patting Serian on the shoulder. “They will in time. The future o' Neopia be far larger than our wee town—'twill continue t' grow whether we like it or nah. Dat be how we’ll survive.”

     Serian walked towards the water, watching the waves churn. Small avian petpets ran in and out with the shifting waters, snacking on scuttling crustaceans and polychaetes. There was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to back away, that there was danger, but he kept watching the push and pull of the mighty sea.

     He hardly noticed when a gentle tap came on his arm, and only turned to look after a few seconds. A towel-wrapped Lisha stood beside him with a grin. She held out a hairy, round fruit with a hole drilled at the top. The salt water clung to her fur, making her look even younger than normal—not that he would say anything. Despite many jealous looks from noblewomen yearning for her youthful looks, nothing frustrated her more than for folks to think she was the library assistant or a Meridell College intern…

     “It’s a coconut,” she said, holding it out. Serian accepted it, albeit after some hesitation, “drink from the hole—it’s nice and sweet. Oh, but make sure to—“

     Before she could finish her thought, he tipped it forward like a vase, causing a cascade of liquid to pour into (and all around) his beak and ruff. After tilting it back and coughing a few times, he held away. Lisha unravelled a towel from her head and shoulders and handed it to Serian, who gladly took it. “An…interesting experience.” He then wiped at his beak, noticing the stickiness of his talons and beak from the juice, and groaned. “Joyous. There’s nothing an Eyrie loves more than gummy feathers…”

     “Was about to say to use a straw…” Lisha sighed, having since grabbed a replacement towel for her head and ears from an unused beach chair.

     “What, and miss all of that fun?” There was a certain level of snark that Serian knew he could get away with talking with Lisha—she was on the receiving end of it more often than not. “I clearly drank it the best way.”

     While the two adopted siblings joked, the knights ran about in the sand, some of them were splashing about in the water like children at a lagoon party—the Darigan nobles made a big show of them—not that just anyone was invited, of course. And not like Serian wanted to be. Not after that day so many years ago…

     And yet… There was always that yearning to be there, in that place, in that space, enjoying luxury without a care in the world.

     If only there was a way he could just see the water, to feel it without being [i]deep[/i] within it.

     As if answering his plea, a speck appeared on the horizon. It approached slowly, sparkling with magic, and catching the attention of everyone around. It was a pontoon boat of sorts from what Lisha surmised, one used for tourism. As it approached a dock and the Neopians unloaded, there came a sudden rush in Serian’s heart.

     … And an even quicker rush of air as someone dashed by and slid to a stop.

     “Why don’t… the three of us…” It was Jeran… with a Frisbee hanging from his mouth that he spat into his paw. “Do it… together?” Given how out of breath he sounded, he had sprinted across the sand at least a quarter mile from where Rohane and Danner were throwing it before. Before they could complain, he hurled the saliva-covered Frisbee back in their direction, eliciting a “really, Jeran!?” from Rohane.

     “… Together?” repeated Serian, casting a stray gaze towards the boat, then back to Jeran. Considering how much of a stick-in-the-mud good guy he could be, it was odd to see him letting loose. Then again, he had a habit of getting rather wild on caffeine and there was plenty of coffee around…

     “Yeah.” Jeran bent over for a second to breathe. “I figured… it’d be a nice… way to celebrate the last… milestone.”

     And by milestone, he meant a one-year anniversary of the Darigan Community Centre. It had been built atop the ruins of a Kass-era orphanage and functioned as a place for the nearby communities to heal and move forward. That project was especially personal for Serian, given that place was where he grew up… and though Jeran stayed quiet about it most of the time, he could tell how deeply the change impacted Serian.

     While the boys were talking, Lisha walked to the dock and back. In her paw was a flyer. “It’s a glass-bottom boat.”

     The Eyrie’s ears perked up. “Glass… bottom?”

      “… we could peer into the depths from the safety of a seaworthy vessel—or so the captain said, anyway.”

     Serian didn’t need to think about it. “Let’s do it.”

     There was something about the boat—the “Hidden Hamlet”—that spoke to him. Maybe it was the effortless way in which the boat glided across the waves, the schools of fish and aquatic petpets that swam by the glass windows, seeing Neopians from around the world enjoying the same thing together, the excited chatter of the captain as she spoke with Lisha about the life history of every species they encountered, or perhaps it was watching Jeran hang over the edge of the boat with his mouth wide open and tail wagging—who knew he loved the beach so much?

     Even after they returned to land, the feeling of the sea lingered. The sand felt warm to his feet as he strolled along the edge of the waves.

      “Hey, Serian!” It was Rohane. He was joined by six other knights in a square court. “Come join us!”

     If memory served, Lisha called this beach game… “ballyball?” It was something like that, anyway. She made sure to explain the rules on their ride over. And it looked as if Jeran and Rohane were on opposite teams—pretty typical behaviour for the two. Serian quickly found himself standing beside Rohane, gesturing to them to begin.

     Within a moment, the ball was soaring over the net. Danner pushed it up, allowing for Jeran to spike it, but Rohane was ready. He dove forward, saving the ball just in time. The volleys continued back and forth, neither side letting up.

     But then… the ball came high—the perfect height for a winged Neopian. Serian bounded up with a flap of his wings, sending sand spray in his wake before pounding the ball down at breakneck speed.

     The ball hit the sand with a satisfying thud as Rohane and their other teammates let out a shout of joy.

     As the knights gave high fives and the game continued…

     It hit him.

     This was the first time in months where the worries of the world melted away—where the struggles of diplomacy or the ruminations on a poorly chosen phrase could wait.

     The game continued into the evening, lit by torchlight and a galaxy of fireflies.

     When they finally felt the fatigue kick in… Serian melted onto a wicker bench. Lisha hopped beside him a moment later while Jeran leaned his elbows on the headboard. Henry dropped by with fruit juices made from a mixture of wild berries grown from around the world… the perfect energy boost before a spar with Rohane and Jeran.

     As the three continued their “meathead games” in the sand, Lisha watched cross-legged, sipping coconut juice with a fantasy book spread across her lap.

     It turned out that Serian didn’t need to swim to enjoy his vacation. He didn’t need a fancy lagoon or a gaudy soiree to find joy.

     All he needed… was quality time at the beach.

     The End.