“You just can’t keep doing this, Griba.” The figure in a dark cloak frowned down upon the avian as he managed to steady himself, her antennae drooping and her wings hanging low. 

“But Peeaarl- I do this every night! And I don’t come back injured, do I?” Before the avian could retaliate further, he was silenced by a flick to his forehead.

“No, you don’t. But you might. And I don’t want it to happen anytime soon, got it?” Pearl huffed, her wings flaring up as her voice grew louder with frustration. 

“Do you forget that there are mercenaries out there? Mercenaries with crossbows and swords and pointy things? Mercenaries whose only goal is to hunt down pesky birds like you for some stupid coin?”

The avian crossed his arms, turning away from his sibling. The familiar feeling of defeat swirled around in his stomach.

“Remember the last time you went out alone without giving me the heads up? You got kidnapped, mate. And in broad daylight too! You almost got yourself killed, as well as Scar. Now does that jog your memory?”

Grian mumbled a half-hearted apology and kicked at the gravel path below him, twisting and grinding the rock fragments below the heel of his boot. His face was illuminated by the warm glow coming from the distant campsite as his sister’s was cast in a soft veil of shadow.

“Y’know, I worry about you, Griba. I care about you. And so does the rest of the crew. I can’t have you going out to who knows where after dinner, and coming back in the dead of night- void knows where you actually run off to- and well, I just don’t want you to leave. A small knight like you going out alone without any protection whatsoever is just bound get into trouble, and I guess you could say that you might-” 

Pearl froze, a rush of warmth flurrying through her body as she looked down to see the avian hugging her around the waist. Grian’s wings coiled around the both of them as his cheek rested in the folds of her cloak, eyes shut tight.

Time felt as if it were slowing down until it was just the two sky siblings deep in an embrace, the ambience of small night animals rustling around in the field of grass that surrounded them, and the occasional breeze that sent crisp night air between both their wings. After what felt like eternity, Grian spoke.

“I’m sorry, Pearl. I really am.” Despite his warm smile, there was a slight hesitation in his voice. He slowly tilted his head upwards to his sibling, whose face was soon illuminated, cast with the golden lamplight of an approaching knight. 

“Hey- I apologise for interrupting. It’s quite rude of me-” The knight came to an abrupt stop beside the others, the oil lamp in his hand swinging back and forth as he gave an awkward smile, raising the corners of his moustache.

“A-are you two alright over here? Scar, Impulse and I have been waiting for you guys to make your way over for some campfire stories before we all doze off. We were all nice and warm and snuggled up a second ago.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced between the two siblings, who both shared a confused expression.

“Like- genuinely. Aren’t you cold, at all? It’s beginning to get quite chilly out and I suppose that it’s best if you-” The moustached knight’s rambling was cut off by laughter as the avian pulled away from the hug and turned to his friend with a bright smile. 

“We’ll be there in a sec, Mumbo. Tell Scar to start the story, we can’t leave Impulse waiting. Pearl and I can always join in halfway through and he can give us a rundown of what’s happened.”

“Right. Very well then!” The knight waved goodbye as he turned. The lamplight slowly faded and joined another blur of light not too far away, followed by a hum of distant chatter.

“I accept your apology, Grian.” She turned back, looking down at her younger brother with a smile. Her voice was soft and genuine, smooth like her dark wings against the night sky.

“But there’s no need to be too soppy about it.” 

Pearl ruffled up the avian’s hair, and was immediately returned with a wing-smack to her side before she hastily turned and took off on foot through the field.

Being the village’s go-to fishmonger, with genuinely quite an impressing amount of ocean knowledge, meant that Jimmy was much popular among the other stalls. He knew all about when and where the fish migrated, their spawning grounds, the prime fishing locations, and the places to avoid.

Ever since Jimmy had picked up a fishing rod all those many years ago, he was known for his remarkable ability to read the water. He knew the water like the back of his hand. Like a second home, even.

Every morning, he would wake up before dawn to meticulously prepare his rod before skipping off to the bay. 

Jimmy was quite patient. He would sit there for hours on end, kicking his feet over the water as he traced the ripples. Without fail, he would return by noon with a bucket filled to the brim with freshly caught fish.

It’s quite surprising, really. On average, it takes a normal villager several hours just to catch a singular fish, but Jimmy seemed to do so in much less. Some say he’s just lucky, and some say he has a gift. 

“Sooooo… How about those fillets, hm?”

Jimmy shot upright as he was broken out of whatever trance he found himself in. His gaze immediately darted back to what seemed to be an artificer, hair like the sun standing before him.

The stranger wore deep red clothing, adorned in belts that held numerous tools and gadgets that Jimmy had never cast eyes on before. The customer beamed up at the fishmonger, his hands propped up onto the edge of the counter, like a child in a candy store, as he waited patiently for a reply.

“Your fillets. ‘S right– Right… Yep! On its way!” 

Jimmy gave a weak chuckle, his ears burning with embarrassment as he slid on a pair of gloves and scooped a few portions of fish onto parchment paper. 

He had barely even finished packaging the fish before he was interrupted by the crash and the jingle of a coin pouch being dropped onto the counter. His eyes widened as he estimated just how much the pouch held.

“Ah ah ah! Don’t you begin to argue with me, mister!” The artificer’s smug expression could clearly read the fishmonger's face. He looked up at the other with a cheeky grin and reached over the counter to slide the package of salmon from the fishmonger’s hands into his own.

“You can keep every cent. And if I’m gonna be honest, you kinda deserve it! I’ve heard of your work from folks all over the village. Think of it as a donation. A gift, perhaps!”

A generous gift from a stranger. Quite an attractive stranger at that. Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to look away as another rush of warmth flurried to his cheeks.

“I’m Tango. Tango of the Tek variety. I hope to see you around–'' The artificer squinted as he seemed to notice a small detail on the neckline of the fishmonger’s wrap. Carefully hand embroidered text that spelled his name in cursive.

“I hope to see you around, Jimmy.”

And with that, the artificer left. He disappeared through wefts of villagers that passed by, and soon grew lost to view. 

It’s hard to think that now Jimmy was sitting beside the same stranger he met at the markets last month. Time seemed to slip away when they were together. They were laughing, kicking their feet over the water’s edge, their fishing rods side by side as they watched the sun rise over the horizon. 

The ambience of water lapping against the dock was soon gently cut by the artificer’s quiet, squeaky voice. His gaze was fixed on the water below him as he read each delicate ripple around his fishing line, just as his friend had taught him.

“Hey Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really trust me when I asked if I could spend a night at your place? Like- did you reaaaally trust me?”

Jimmy chuckled, looking down at Tango’s sun-kissed cheeks before elbowing him in the side.