Sol City is a buzz with excitement as the end of summer festival is in full swing. Entertainers from across the realm gather to put on shows for the locals as well as the swaths of travelers who brave the crashing ocean waves to reach the sunny shores of Capitol Landing. There's food and music and dancing and magic, everything someone looking for a good time could want. 

Well, except for anyone with crippling social anxiety. 

The city streets are packed with crowds of people all clamoring to see or get to the next event. It's overwhelming, especially for anyone of short stature. 

But if one was to manage to squeeze past the forest of legs, they may be able to make it to the edge of the city where the crowds thin and dwindle. To escape further would take someone beyond the encircling wall of the city and past the few buildings that make up a shanty town and beyond that a few scattered tent encampments made by travelers with little coin to afford staying at an inn. 

Beyond this and towards the shore, past the city walls that protect the wharf from rough weather and tenacious pirates is a little spit of sand tucked into a quiet cove. It's the perfect place to escape for a moment of peace and quiet. With the tide being low, a sandy spit makes it easy to get down and out of sight from the watchtowers topping the city's defensive wall.

Crabs scuttle across the sands, spooked by anyone walking by. The sloping stone walls of the cove are encrusted with barnacles, sea urchins, and the occasional purple sea star. There are a few protected tidal pools teeming with fish trapped by the receded waters as well as dregs of seaweed strewn across the yellow sand.

Besides the critters, there are a few errant bottles and pieces of broken fishing net tangled amongst the rocky tide pools. Nothing too exciting to write home about or even worth scavenging to sell to a few heavy-pursed tourists. 

At least, not at first glance. 

Further back in the cove, there is something. Something bigger and definitely out of the norm. Lying face down in the sand, unmoving, but breathing, is a person. Are they unconscious, or maybe sleeping? If so this is an odd place to take a nap and they have clearly misjudged just how far the water would reach given their boots are soaking in one of the tidal pools. A few crabs scuttle over the person, picking at their clothes with their claws, yet still they do not react.

There are no bags or belongings nearby, but a keen eye would spot that a few paces away is a round shiny object peeking out of the sand and glinting in the sunlight.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: Enjoy the Festival!
Participants: Two or more
Location: Sol City
Post Requirements: 4 posts per person, 150 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown, +1 Mystical Archive Ticket
Description: The festival is booming, and all that is required of you is to have fun! Stroll through Sol City partaking in any kind of festival-like activity. You can attend the joust, or participate in a sword duel. Maybe watch some jugglers or Bardic Virtuoso's perform in the city square. Enjoy some of the rare cuisines found across Charon at local vendors and markets. The choice is up to you, as long as you enjoy the festival!

The festival season has always been a part of her life; it’s the time of year when the streets are bustling, and the little street urchins that the city turns it nose up at can thrive for just a little bit at its expense. People from all places gather, stalls of all kinds are set up with tantalizing food, games, and prizes; and there’s a plethora of noise, chaos, and craziness with which to make use of if sneaky hands were to, by happenstance, find their way into someone’s wallet and require a quick getaway!

This year is a little different, though.

This year, she’s not one of Sol City’s little street urchins; this year, she arrived with Del, Cyran, and the other adults who frequent the orphanage… But of course, the aforementioned had some kind of big adult meeting to go to, which left Cypress temporarily by herself. The inn was in a safe location, and she listened very attentively to instructions on safety, stranger danger, and where to get or call for help if she needed it; and then, they were gone, leaving her with some emergency solars.

In a strange way, she doesn’t mind the rules; to her, it means that they care; and that’s more than she could say for most of the adults who stepped in and out of her life over the few years she’s been alive.

Following the rules is a lot easier when the sun is still up, though; because as the sun sets, and darkness rolls over Sol City; the festivities light up the streets.

She tried! She really tried!

The smell of baked goods and fried foods, the laughter of families and people outside, and the merriment of games, fun, and cheer were all too much for her to resist while staring down the coin purse of solars she’d been left near the door.

After pacing restlessly in her room, gazing longingly out the window time and time again, she caved.

She had never missed a year of the Sol City festival; and yet, she also had never participated in it. It felt like an opportunity— an excitement, not a crime! And so, she pocketed away the bag of solars and scurried out the door— making sure to lock the room and bring the key with her so she could get back inside later.

She told herself she’d only spend a little bit.
… But it turns out that it is really easy to spend money.

Wide-eyed and bushy tailed, the Satyr clicked through merrily lit streets and weaved through congested walkways; she bought two candy-coated apples, powdered fritters, and other sweet snacks and stuffed them away in her bag. She purchased trinkets, cute toys, and small gifts for Cashmere, Cyran, Del, Andromeda, and Cirice that she thought they might like. (And maybe something to lessen the blow of her sneaking out with the emergency funds.) She played a few of the games, but couldn’t win prizes from any of them; but even if she lost, it was still fun.

And then, as she snacked on one of her powdered fritters on a bench within the festivities and crowd, her excited high started to die down.

She watched, chewing a little slower on a mouthful of apple and thin crepe-like sheets, as a cheerful family passed her by; a mother, a father, and a bantering pair of siblings. She swallowed her mouthful of sweet syrup and lifted a hand to brush at the powdered sugar at the corners of her mouth as she watched them interact.

They were so normal; no different, really, from the rest of the families in the crowd; it just so happened to be that this was the one that caught her attention.

Cypress kicked her legs weakly and sniffed. The tips of her hooves scraped the carved walkways of Sol City; and as she looked down at her half-eaten fritter in her lap, and then looked to the other side of the bench; she found it empty.

The festival felt a lot less fun after that, but she didn’t know why.

She just couldn’t place it; she was surrounded by lights, laughter, and glee; and she couldn’t grasp it again. She wrapped up what was left of her sweet, and packed it away without an appetite. She felt every eye on her, even though no one really looked her way; she felt strangled and trapped in the crowd, even though she had been okay just moments before; she felt alone and scared, even though she was surrounded by people.

And then, it started to happen.

As she wandered through the crowd, people were looking at her for real, this time; heat radiated off of her, like a walking forge. A few people rub their arms and wince away from her, as though they've been burned. ^{(Heat Cloak)} In the middle of a small circle of confused and irritated festival goers, horror and embarrassment washed over her. She knew, then, it was time to mark her leave; with half a coin-purse of solars, a bundle of trinkets and wrapped sweets, Cypress scurried off into the crowd with her bag tucked close to her chest.

… But she didn’t know which way the inn was.

It’s why she ended up here, at the outskirts of a small cove that she knew well instead of the inn; past the small shanty town, and around the walls of Sol City. She used to come here sometimes when she felt overwhelmed and when the magic inside of her tried to run rampant. The sound of ocean waves lapping at the shore was nice, and there was rarely anyone here; and again, as she steps into the moonlight and quickly scans the beach, there’s no one at the cove.

She sniffs and starts to climb down towards the shore, doing her best not to scold herself for thinking she could just, have fun. Of course she would ruin it somehow, right? 

Her hooves click and clack on small, unstable ledges until—

“Wah!”

THMP!

“Owwww…” Cypress winces, having landed on her back in the sand after a slate-like ledge collapsed under her hooves. She lays there for a moment, pouting, before she rolls to sit up and rubs at her back. She blinks away pained tears from the corners of her eyes as she looks around for her belongings. She finds most of it fairly nearby. She gathers up her shoulder bag, and snatches up the belongings that had fallen out of it. 

A crescent moon pendant, and a stuffed bunny.

She reaches for a little wooden raven toy she'd bought for Cyran, when the toy shifts slightly.

She stops, hand still in the air as she watches the earth beneath the toy rise and fall… rise and fall… rise and… Cypress looks down. 

Her shriek echoes off the cove walls; but is ultimately drowned out by the festivities inside.

She drops everything and books it, dropping her bag on the person’s arm; but she doesn’t book it that far, all things considered. Sand kicks up from her hooves as she trips over something shiny in the sand, then ungracefully slips her way behind the nearest outcrop of rock and slate.

WHY IS THERE A PERSON HERE!?

---

Heat Cloak: The users skin becomes warm, giving off an immense amount of heat. The heat will radiate off of you and effect anyone who comes within melee range. The heat burns and is unbearable enough to push enemies away, making it hard for them to breath.
-Deals fire damage-

"Mrph."

The person stirs awake from the loud noise and the sudden weight dropped on his arm. His eyes peek open and he blinks in the limited light, barely able to make out anything beyond just blurred shapes and shadows. He pulls his arm out from under the bag before trying to push himself onto his back. His arm trembles from the exertion. It's clear he's either exhausted or injured, but he manages to rotate enough to flop over. Unfortunately, this jams the wooden raven right into his back. 

"Ow, ow, ow!"

He tries to sit up but he doesn't have the strength to pull himself upright. Succumbing to his fate, he lies there in the sand with a grimace on his face.

Taking a few deep breaths, he starts to get his wits about him, the fuzziness of unconsciousness slowly ebbing away and his vision coming into focus as he stares at the sky. 

What happened?

His mind is clouded with a thick brain fog. The sound of the waves crashing and the scent of the sea is familiar, or rather comforting, but he cannot remember any storm or falling overboard. Hell, he can barely remember if he even was on a ship recently. Whatever happened, he must have hit his head or something. 

Glancing around, he's in some sort of seaside cove.

Where is he?

The features of the stone aren't terribly distinct, so he could be anywhere. Well, not anywhere. It's not freezing, thank the gods. 

Moving even a little makes the wooden bird dig in between his shoulder blades more. It's uncomfortable enough that he can't stand to just put up with it, not that he can stand at all in his current state. He leans his weight onto one side so he can reach back behind him. His finger tips just manage to get a grip on the piece of carved wood so he can pull it out from under him. Holding it up to see what it even is, he lets out a breath of relief, glad that it's just some small trinket and not some poisonous snail or prickly urchin.

He takes another few moments to glance about his surroundings when he just catches sight of Cypress hiding behind one of the stone outcroppings. It's a little disorienting because from his point of view, she's upside down, and given the light level, he can't make out much of her features beyond what the moonlight manages to highlight. He's equally confused about seeing someone else, but not nearly as panicked about it. 

He holds out the little carved raven in her direction. 

"Is this yours?"

She gasps for air as she pushes her back up against the other side of the rock and reaches for her— her bag!?

Oh, no! Her bag!

The satyr peeks out over the rock, her eyes wide when she realizes that her bag is laying on the person in the sand, and that the person in the sand is laying on her gift to Mister Cyran! Not the little raven… Oh, and all her solars are in that bag! Which is to say all of Mister Cyran’s solars are in that bag!

Shoot, shoot, shoot…

She runs through a dozen childish calculations, trying to determine the best course of action to snag her bag and run; she knows that Mister Cyran doesn’t want her to live a pickpocket’s life with Cashmere anymore, but surely she can still summon up her skills juuuuust for tonight… And she is so in tune with these plans that she forgets to hide again.

Is this yours?

The voice causes her to flinch, dropping down behind the rock as if hiding in hindsight might cause the stranger in the sand to forget she was there or perhaps attribute her presence to the wind or sea.

After a moment of silence, however, she peeks just her eyes above the rock.

“… Maybe.” She answers, her voice holding a very unsubtle tone of 'yes' despite her reluctance to admit it; but the strange man lying in the sand doesn’t seem particularly… bad by any means now that she’s looking at him. She doesn’t smell the lingering scent of alcohol, and in the moonlight, his facial expression seems soft— not sharp and scowling. 

He also looks kind of silly because he’s upside-down.

Cypress wiggles her ears.

But, these tiny observations seem to be enough to ease her nerves enough to chance stepping out from around the rock. She moves slowly at first, and then lunges forwards to grab the little raven from the stranger’s hand like a stray dog snapping up a bone.

She pulls back in a scamper, examining the raven in the moonlight with cupped hands to ensure that it wasn’t damaged. From the stranger’s perspective, he might notice small plants beginning to crop up around the satyr’s hooves; unfurling into yellow dandelions, tiny ferns, and clover. ^{(Plant Growth)} She brushes little grains of sand from its smiling beak, before looking back at him with furrowed brows.

She tilts her head.

“… What're you doin' sleepin’ out here in the sand, mister?”

The man squints a bit, having a hard time seeing in the dark, but he can make out some more of Cypress' features as she steps out into the open and comes closer. He's not entirely sure what she is, but he feels like he's maybe seen someone similar before. Maybe. Maybe not. 

He lets the young satyr snatch the raven from his hand without any fuss. As she scurries away to check over the tiny trinket, he lowers his arm, rests it across his forehead, and takes a deep breath. 

Everything hurts. His ribs are sore and his legs ache as if he had just run a marathon. Whatever happened, it had done a number on him. Perhaps he fell from above the cove. Or he was battered by the waves until he washed up here with the tides. Either could have been possible and if he hit his head, that would explain why he couldn't remember anything. Right?

He snaps out of it when Cypress asks him a question. A question he cannot answer. 

"Uh...I don't actually know. I can't remember how I got here."

He tries to push himself to sit up again, but the strain is still too much for his body and he just flops back in the sand. 

"Ow..."

Glancing to the side, he catches sight of Cypress' bag. "Is this yours as well?"

Wait, why was she down here? Was she collecting things? Or did she fall down the slope too?

He cranes his head back to look at her again. She doesn't look like she's hurt at all, but it's too damn dark for him to really be able to tell. He's about to ask her why she's down here when he notices the little flowers blooming at her feet, gleaming in the moonlight as the magic flickers off their petals and leaves.

"Are your feet blooming?"

Cypress perks her ears, “You don’t remember?” She repeats, furrowing her brows at his response; although, her expression does shift slightly over this statement. She doesn’t smell alcohol, so he’s probably not like the tavern drunkards who used to pass out in the alleyways of Sol City…

She rubs her thumb over the smooth exterior of the little wooden raven and thinks about the books she’s read; books of herbs, medicines, and illness. Little pamphlets from the Golden Consortium. She doesn’t always understand them, but she wants to. She turns her head slightly to look at him, skepticism slowly replacing itself with sympathy when he groans and flops into the sand.

Did he fall? Or, maybe he was washed ashore?

Childish imagination fills the gaps in her knowledge of this stranger and how he may have come to be on the beach. Of monsters at sea, or of the air, simply dropping him on his head at the beach or spitting him out for some poor beach-goer, like herself, to stumble upon.

“Huh?” She lowers her goat-like ears, blinking back into reality when he points at the bag. She looks for a moment at it, before nodding her confirmation that the bag is hers. Then he asks if her feet are blooming, which is a really weird question.

“What?” She looks down, expression twisting when she realizes that she’s not quite standing on sand anymore. “Uh— no! I mean, yes, but—” She stomps the growth back into the sand; little sparks of magic dance off flower petals as they crumble under her hoof; only to stubbornly sprout into twisting vines that nip at her ankles.

“Ugh— that just, happens sometimes… Don't worry about it!” The plant growth follows each step she takes, leaving hoof-shaped patches of clover and glinting sparks of magic in the sand as she works her way over to her bag. She knows it’s her nerves, or maybe the adrenaline, or… something causing it to act up. It's embarrassing, and dumb, but it's better than nearly roasting the festival goers, she supposes...

She reaches down and grabs her bag, picking up the little things that fell out of it and stuffing them back into it before she looks at the stranger again. She’s still a little uncertain about him; she pulls her bag over her shoulder and around her chest, and holds the strap with both hands.

“Um… Look, do you need help, mister? Maybe you hit your head or somethin’ if you don’t remember how you got down here… You don’t look very well, either. Maybe you should see a doctor.” He looks exhausted and in pain; she’s starting to feel a little bad that she can’t do anything about that. “Can you even sit up? Maybe I can help.” With her bag secured, Cypress trots over to the stranger and hesitantly offers him both hands should he want to try again.

He shakes his head. "I...think I was at sea." It felt right to say that despite his memory being a foggy mess. His body certainly felt like it was tossed and tumbled through some pretty rough waves before washing up on shore. 

Cypress's reaction to him pointing out the plant growth is a little funny and charming. He recognizes the fluster on her face and in her voice as she tries to stomp out the plants and tells him not to worry about it.

A small chuckle escapes him. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you self-conscious." 

Squinting through the dark, he watches Cypress scamper around and retrieve her things while she leaves little sprigs of grass and flowers behind in the sand. It seems like a wonderful ability to have, but he wouldn't draw more attention to it since she seemed uncomfortable with it happening. 

When she turns her attention back to him, he lets out a sigh and thinks for a moment. Yeah, he clearly needs help. Sitting up would be nice. 

"Yeah, you're probably right about all that."

He looks at her outstretched hands as she offers to assist him. With a nod, he reaches out a hand and lets Cypress pull him up into a sitting position. He winces and shudders as his muscles protest moving. The soreness is deep, and he likely would need a few good nights' sleep to fully recover. 

Letting out a long breath, he lets go of Cyrpress' hands once he can stay upright himself. 

"Thank you, Miss, you're very kind offering a stranger help." He dusts some of the sand off his shirt and manages to pull one leg up enough to rest his elbow on it. "Name's Everett, by the way."

When the stranger offers her his hand, she grabs his wrist with one hand and his palm with the other. She furrows her brows, purses her lips, and begins to pull on him. “Rrrgh…” The satyr growls beneath her breath and burrows her hooves into a mixture of sand and clover while trying to find her footing.

She scrambles back slowly as the washed-up stranger rises into a sitting position; she slips in the sand occasionally— but the tension and Everett’s hand keep her from just falling flat on her back whenever she does find herself on precarious footing.

Eventually, with some (read: much) effort, he’s sitting up.

She sighs in relief, ears drooping as she pauses long enough to catch her breath.

Frankly, she’s not very strong.

“Well… I couldn’t just leave you laying here, could I?” She answers, shaking her head as she releases his hand; but as he introduces himself, she gathers the edges of her skirts within her hands and offers Everett a small curtsy— a polite introduction she's learned at the orphanage. “Nice to meet you, mister Everett. My name is Cypress.” 

As she lifts her head to look at him, she can actually see him properly for the first time.

He looks vaguely elvish in appearance; and his clothes make him look a little like the sailors that she sees passing by on the docks. His face seems kind, at least, and that helps with easing the skittishness that she’d felt earlier upon seeing him washed up out… out… she hesitates, eyes widening slightly.

In the moonlight she can see Everett clearly.

She drops the ruffles of her skirt and abruptly stands up straight; her hands move to cover her mouth, muffling the following gasp, “Oh my goodness— mister Everett, your arm!!” Panic starts to bubble up in her chest, face blanching. His arm's just, gone! “What happened!?” She scuttles up, seemingly still too anxious to get very close to him— but enough to actually see his arm.

Or, to not see it in this case.

“Okay! No, that’s okay!” Cypress claps her hands together, leaving little room for Everett to actually speak; she tries to summon up every meager particle of medical and first aid advice she’s heard, read, and seen over her fifteen years. “Sol City has really good doctors, and really talented mages! So we can just get you to one of those— and… and just stay calm, don't freakout, and I’ll—” When she opens up her hands, something appears between them; Cypress ends up catching an apple in her palms, and then furrows her brows at it. ^{(Create Food)}

Whatever! Now’s not the time!
Keep the patient calm, right?

She looks at Everett, then at the apple, and then back at him. “Okay— um, here! You can have this, just— don’t worry about anything, I’ll go find your arm— and then we can find a doctor! Yep! Everything will be fine, so don’t panic and just stay put, and I'll be right back, mister Everett! Don't fret a bit!”

Without waiting for Everett, she tosses him the apple, pulls off her bag to set it down in the sand, and scrambles away to tear apart the beach for his presumably missing arm.

"I mean, you could've, but I am happy that you didn't." He laughs a bit though it hurts his ribs to do so. "Nice to meet you too, Cypress."

Cyrpess' sudden gasp spooks him a bit into being more alert. Had something appeared behind him? Are they under attack by some sort of seaweed monster??

Mister Everett, your arm!

"My arm?" His brow furrows, puzzled.

He looks down at his arm that he has. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Then he looks at the arm that he does not have. Huh...wait, was that normal? Cypress' panic makes him think otherwise, yet the shock of seeing he's lacking an arm isn't as much as it probably should be. No, no, he hasn't had that arm for...a while. Yes, that feels correct. 

When asked what happened, he hesitates. What did happen? He can't remember specifics, he just knows that he's been without it for a while now, long enough that it is long healed over and does not hurt.

"Uh, well-" his voice goes unheard as Cypress fusses over him, talking on about Sol City's doctors and mages.

Sol City. That...is familiar...right? He's heard that before, but details are still fuzzy and hard to recall. He snaps out of it as Cypress tells him to stay calm just before conjuring an apple into her hands. 

He can't help but laugh a little at that. "I think you are freaking out more than I am." 

Jokes aside, Cypress declares her plan before tossing the apple to him which he was not expecting. Try as he might to catch it, his reflexes are sluggish and his vision useless in the dim light so he fumbles the catch and the apple lands in the sand next to him. 

"Hey, wait!" he calls after the young satyr, but she's already scurried off to scour the beach for an arm that is long gone. 

Oh boy. What is he supposed to do about this?

He looks down at his missing arm again and gives the empty sleeve a squeeze which wrings some of the water from the fabric. Taking a moment to just take in the whole situation, he looks around the cove. He still doesn't know how he got here or what happened, but oddly enough he's pretty calm about it. Or maybe calm isn't the right word, perhaps numb is more accurate. 

Glancing back down, his eyes land on the apple and the thought of food immediately makes his stomach growl. When even was the last time he ate something? Who knows?

He reaches down and picks up the apple, wiping the sand off using his shirt before taking a bite. Ack! That was a mistake, now it's all salty AND gritty. 

Oh well, beggars can't be picky. 

“Okay! Okay, calm down, Cypress. Big breaths like Miss Del said… how is the patient gonna remain calm if you’re freakin’ out!?” Her voice is small and tiny in the darkness of the beach; she clambers over some drift wood, puffing as she steps onto the other side.

The clovers and flowers have finally stopped sprouting beneath her hooves, at least.

She takes a deep breath, raising her hands palm-up as she does so; and then she pushes towards gravity, palms down as she exhales and tries to calm herself down. She does this a few more times, until her heart has stopped trying to beat itself out of her chest.

One last big breath, and Cypress manages to finally gather her wits about her.

Mister Everett is waiting for her after all; and he’s probably tired and in a lot of pain… She can’t imagine what losing a limb must feel like… and she can’t help but wonder how he lost it. Maybe he lost it in a fight with pirates; or maybe a shark bit it off; or maybe he fell on some really sharp rocks.

Ow, could… could a rock even do that?

Cypress winces at the thought, fingers curling into her palms as she shivers; but she stomps her feet in the sand before finally resolving herself to find his arm.

Finally, the satyr begins to scour tirelessly around the beach. She picks up pieces of driftwood; and overturns mounds of slippery seaweed. She tries to interrogate a few crabs, who give her absolutely no help; and she even checks in the tidepools.

No luck so far…

But… where would one find an arm, anyways…?

---

It’s been a few minutes; not a long time, but not a short time, either.

Cypress’ silhouette can be seen digging around in the sand, turning over driftwood, and picking up sticks to poke at mounds of washed-up seaweed, algae, and other gunk. For a brief moment, the satyr disappears behind a rather large trunk that’s washed up on the shore— a gnarled, ugly tree that has found its way one way or another on the beach— and then, there’s a small, distant gasp of glee.

Cypress pops up from behind the driftwood, one of her arms seeming very long, and awkwardly clawed— except, it’s not her arm— in fact, it more resembles the anatomy of a lizardfolk. 

She waves it at Everett, nonetheless, gleefully ignorant.

“Mister Everett, I think I found it!”

Everett continues to munch on the apple while waiting for Cypress to return. He feels a little bad that she was looking for an arm he's pretty sure she'll never find. When she comes back, he'll be sure to set the record straight for her that his arm has been long gone and he's okay. Well, mostly okay. 

He looks over as Cypress waves something in the moonlight. 

Ooooh no. That's not his arm. It's an arm. But it's definitely not his arm.

Everett tries to not panic as Cypress carries the scale-covered, talon-adorned arm over to him. He can see her gleeful expression even in the low light. Now he feels really bad because she's trying so hard to help a complete stranger. How was he supposed to tell her she found someone else's severed arm just lying there on the beach?

In a moment of weakness and stupidity, he decides to play along.

"You sure did find an arm. That's great!" He smiles awkwardly.

He gets to the core of the apple and looks around, spotting some crabs scuttling around near the water's edge before tossing the core to the scavengers. 

"Thank you for helping. I'll uh...make sure to take that to one of those doctors or mages you mentioned before." 

Yeah, no. He's not going to be doing that. Walking around with what seems to be a severed lizard arm would definitely attract the wrong kind of attention, and with his brain all scrambled, he's not sure he'd be able to explain things in a convincing way. 

Feeling like he's got a little of his strength back, he folds one of his legs underneath him before pushing himself up to his feet. He's unsteady and nearly stumbles before he finds his balance.

"Phew. Okay, I'm up. Hopefully there's no sudden breeze," he says with a chuckle before his hand instinctively goes to one of his pockets. It's empty. 

A deep feeling of dread washes over him, but he can't explain why. He's lost something. Something important. Something he's supposed to have, unlike the missing arm. He looks around quickly before the glint of glass sticking out of the sand catches his eye. Stepping over, he bends down and picks up the object. Relief spreads across his face as he brushes the sand off what appears to be a broken compass.

"You sure did find an arm. That’s great!"

The somewhat detached implication of ownership to this particular arm completely goes over Cypress’ head. “It’s really lucky that it didn’t get eaten by a shark or something!” She announces, setting the arm across the driftwood as she starts to climb over it. “That would be… Hrgh…” Cypress clambers onto the other side and scratches at the sand with the tip of a hoof; then, she plops down onto the beach once she’s sure the fall isn’t too high. “Really bad!”

She brushes her hands off on her skirts before reaching up to grab the limb. She heads back towards Everett, ears perking when Everett mentions he can take it to one of the doctors or mages. “I’ll come with you! I know where a few of the offices are in Sol City.”

She hesitates a moment, the arm held close to her without much thought that it does not, in fact, look like the rest of Everett and is clearly not his arm. “But… the summer festival is tonight, so will the offices be open? Surely a couple will be… They can’t all close, can they?” Cypress wrinkles her nose while she considers these facts, and then she remembers—

the festival!

Cypress lowers her ears, eyes widening slightly at the realization.

The festival is going on! There’s so many people in the heart of Sol City! How does she explain carrying around an arm to so many people? Can they avoid the crowd? What if they think Mister Everett has murdered someone? Or she has?

Cypress blanches a little at the thought; and she feels her nerves starting to prickle back into her chest. No! No, it'll be fine. She draws back into reality when movement catches the corner of her vision, however. She steps back, watching Everett start stumbling up to his feet. “Oh— careful, Mister Everett!” She objects, raising a hand (not the one she is holding) as if readying herself to catch him if he were to fall. “Don’t fall. Are you feeling dizzy?”

When he finally stands, she smiles— but then he starts looking around in a bit of a panic. “Mister Everett?” She remarks, cocking her head as Everett breezes past her; she follows him, peeking curiously from behind him to see the compass. “Oh… that’s pretty! Is it yours?” She frowns when she realizes it’s broken, however. “Aw… I guess it got hurt, too.”

"Yup, really bad."

While the severed arm is certainly a problem, Everett just doesn't have the heart to tell Cypress that it is most definitely not his. She's done so much to help him already and he's not entirely sure how she will react to learning that the arm is someone else's. Random body parts washing up on shore is pretty concerning. 

"No harm in checking. They might be open just in case any drunks start a fight or if someone gets hurt while at the festival, right?"

That seemed logical to him. What is going to be tricky about all this is explaining where they got the random arm from. Guards would certainly have questions and while Everett has nothing against working with authority figures, he isn't too sure he'll be able to answer their questions in a satisfactory way given out hazy his memory is.

He manages to keep on his feet and not fall over as he retrieves the broken compass from the sand. He tilts it back and forth, the moonlight reflecting off the cracked glass as he does. A feeling stirs within him, a feeling of sadness and longing. For what, he's not sure, but there's also comfort from knowing the item was not lost to the depths of the ocean, never to be found again. 

"It's alright, I...think it's been like this for a while." He pockets the compass and looks back at Cypress. "I hope you don't mind leading the way back into town. I don't think I can find my way out of an open barrel of fish right now."

Jokes help make things feel a bit lighter. Though he probably should take this more seriously for Cypress' sake. 

He looks at the arm and considers what they can do with it. They really should not stroll into a settlement with it, but he doesn't know how to convince Cypress to leave it behind without lying which he doesn't want to do either. But if he tells the truth Cypress will surely freak out. Or maybe she wouldn't, she was pretty chill about picking it up and bringing it over to him. Only one way to find out. 

"Uhm, so, about the arm. Don't freak out, but I am not sure if that one is mine. And we probably shouldn't bring it with us into town."

Cypress lifts her ears, cocking her head like a quizzical pigeon when Everett admits that the compass has been like that for a while. “Oh.” She watches him pocket the compass, before adding curiously, “How come you haven’t gotten it fixed?” If it’s been broken for a while, it doesn’t make complete sense to her to keep it that way; after all, doesn’t he need to use it? If it’s special, shouldn’t it be treated like something precious— ensuring that it’s as perfect as it could possibly be? 

She’d be upset if something of hers was broken.

But, then again, Cypress hasn’t owned much that was truly hers to treat as such; but she thinks that’s how she would act if she held something special to her heart.

She lifts her ears when Everett asks her to lead; and his joke about the barrel succeeds in making her laugh before she moves to do so. “You’re too tall to fit into a barrel of fish, silly.” She scolds, her voice lilting mischievously. She takes a few large steps past the elven man, the soles of her hooves clicking on rocks that she purposely steps on.

“The barrels in Sol City are toooo wide. You’d have to scrunch your legs in— like, scchthhchth.” She makes an abstract gesture which includes scrunching her shoulders and neck, as if attempting to manifest the interpretation of the noise. “And then you’d probably have to wear the lid like a hat! Or, well, maybe not because you said it would be open…” She uncompresses herself as she considers the open barrel of fish for a moment longer, then turns to look at Everett when he starts speaking, this time with a tone that seems nervous to her. 

“Huh?” She hums, tilting her head; for a good moment, she seems calm, watching the man as he explains that the arm she is holding is possibly not his.

“…Oh, it’s not?”

Cypress looks at the arm.

A moment of silence passes, and then one more.

And then, all at once, realization and panic hits her; she gasps, sounding as if the arm itself has bitten her. Cypress bounces in shock; drops the arm; and withdraws a few stumbling paces. Her ears pin back to the sides of her head. “Whose arm is that, then!?” And then, no sooner has she pointed at the arm, does a sudden warm light reflect off of her fingertips.

With a swift rush of air and heat—

WHOOF. _{(1. Firebolt)}

The earth beneath their feet shudders upon the impact of a fire ball; and Cypress’ expression flickers from fear to shock. She covers her mouth with both hands, one which appears to be smoking from the rogue spell. She stares down at the flaming arm on the ground before speaking, her voice hushed in horror. “Oh my gods— please tell me you weren’t kidding and this really isn’t your arm.”

A scale pops off the arm as a result of the heat; znd Cypress startles a bit before covering her face with her hands, ears drooping. There’s a sting behind her eyes— frustration that she can’t control this thing inside of her— embarrassment and horror over the sheer idea that perhaps she has actually just incinerated the man’s arm that she was trying to help.

This is exactly why she will never be a real healer.

“I’m so sorry, Mister Everett…”

"I...don't know," he admits. He supposes that it is strange that he hasn't gotten it fixed yet. Then again he doesn't know exactly when it was broken. Like his arm, it feels like it was a while ago. "It just doesn't feel like I should."

He snaps out of his funk and chuckles a bit at Cypress' comments about the barrels. That is until the conversation turns back to the whole arm situation. 

Then everything goes downhill. He watches as Cypress drops the arm and promptly sets it on fire. Oooooh, things got so much worse.

"No, no, it's okay! I promise that wasn't my arm and I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner!"

He looks around for a bucket or a shell or something he can use to pour some water on the flaming arm. Not finding anything, he instead yanks off one of his boots and fills it with seawater. It takes a few trips back and forth between the tidal pools and the arm to fully douse the flames. By the time he gets the fire put out, the arm is scorched black and reeks of burning flesh. Whoever the arm did belong to certainly wouldn't be happy to see it now. 

"Don't apologize. I should have been honest with you. You just spent so much time finding it and looked so excited...I felt bad and didn't want to make you freak out." He empties his boot one last time before plopping it down in the sand before rubbing the back of his neck. "This feels worse."

Lying wasn't something he liked doing, even if it was with good intentions. It just didn't sit right with him, and sure enough, it made more of a mess of an already complicated situation. Cypress is a stranger to him, and he is to her. This no doubt would be a mark against her trusting him further. 

"Look, uh...let's forget the arm. It's late and the tide will be coming back in a few hours." He wouldn't outright say it would wash away the evidence, but that is kind of what he is insinuating. Trying to explain any of this to the authorities would not be easy, and he's not in the right headspace to make a convincing statement even if it is a truthful one. 

Things would only get harder to deal with the later it got. He finally realizes that Cypress is pretty young and out by herself in the dark. That can't be good.

He looks at her as he pulls his soggy boot back onto his foot. "You should probably get back home before your family gets worried, right?"

Gods. He hopes he didn't just make a really insensitive assumption about Cypress and her family situation. That would make him feel even worse.