Shame burns the tips of Cypress’ ears; her face feels flushed as she tries to hold back pinpricks of frustrated tears— but ultimately, a few still slip down her cheeks. She can hear Everett telling her it’s okay and that it wasn’t his arm, but she keeps her head ducked while she pulls back her sleeves and wipes at her face to hide the obvious.

She’s too old to still be crying about these things.

She’s fine.

She takes a big breath to calm herself— which Cypress immediately regrets, as the foul air sends her into a coughing fit— and her embarrassment quickly turns to disgust. She rapidly flaps at the smoke billowing from the arm, and winces back as Everett splashes it with sea water.

She covers her mouth and nose as she steps away from the reeking mass of charred flesh. After all the sugar she’s eaten tonight, the smell actually makes her feel a bit nauseous. She looks distastefully at the arm, unable to help the guilt that blooms in her chest over the state of it.

Finally, she looks sheepishly at Everett as he empties the rest of the sea water from his boot; and she shakes her head. “Um… no, it’s okay… I understand...” She answers, taking another step away from the arm.

She can’t look at it anymore, it’s pretty gross. It was gross before, but now it's really gross.

The smell of the arm brings different kinds of tears to the corners of her eyes; and she’s actually pretty on board with leaving it here without a single thought in terms of the authorities. She just nods and sniffs tentatively when he suggests they forget the arm, wiping at her eyes as she coughs and turns to clamor up the rock face.

Her hooves click with each minuscule step she takes trying to put just a bit of distance between herself and the smell of the forbidden barbecue. Cypress lifts her head, ears turning towards Everett when he suggests she get back home before her family gets worried.

“Oh.” She hesitates, her ears drooping momentarily before they lift again. “No, that’s okay; I don’t really have one.” She shakes her head, then turns and reaches out with both hands— offering to help Everett climb up the rock face as if she possesses the strength of a mighty drake and not of a fifteen year old.

Also, as if she didn’t just hit Everett with the orphan card.

The statement had come in a level, practiced tone; it's something she's actually pretty used to reciting by now.

She chuckles awkwardly. “No one will miss me ’til morning; mister Cyran and miss Del are at a special meeting. Besides, I… I know I couldn’t help you find your arm; but we should still get you to a doctor. It’s not everyday someone washes up on shore in one… um… mostly in one piece…”

No, that’s okay; I don’t really have one.

It takes Everett a second to register the meaning of Cypress' words. SHIT. Of course, he said the exact wrong thing again. Now he feels even worse!

"Gods, I'm so sorry. I, uh-"

Man, how does he even continue the conversation now without coming across as inconsiderate? 

He takes Cypress' hands and carefully climbs up the rocks with her help. He's careful not to lose his balance and accidentally pull the young satyr off the rock face. Neither of them really needed to take another fall...if that is even how he ended up down in the cove to start with. 

Cypress thankfully pivots the conversation back to the idea of finding a doctor. Thank the gods. 

"Uhm, a doctor. Right, good idea."

His whole situation is pretty odd and seeing a healer, even if they can't do anything about his arm or memory who knows what other injuries he might have from whatever happened to him. Clearly, his social skills have taken a massive blow given how he's stumbled through this conversation like a freaking avianbear. 

Once they're out of the cove, Everett catches his breath and looks around. The protective walls surrounding Sol City tower overhead with the occasional glimmer of a guard patrol passing along the top of it. He then looks back at the ocean with the moonlight dancing on the waves. He feels...something, like a tingle. Like something stirring inside him that is lured toward the watery expanse.

Snapping out of it, he turns back to Cypress. "Thanks, we should go."

They start heading back into the city. Everett trails behind Cypress, trusting her to lead the way since he doesn't recognize anything. 

"So, Mister Cyran and Miss Del are...not your parents? But you're here with them? Well, obviously not with them right now but uh..." 

He should just stop. This is not working. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't pry. If it helps, I don't remember if I even have a family," he says with an awkward laugh. GODS. Why is he NOT STOPPING?

Cypress smiles sheepishly when Everett apologizes, “It’s okay,” she answers gently but assuredly; and honestly, it doesn’t really hurt her feelings that much. She longs for, and probably always will, long for what she does not have; but she’s heard this question time and time again; always said just a little differently.

Sometimes, people scoff; other times, people sound guilty for asking; but she doesn’t want to make anyone feel bad about something they didn’t know.

She grabs onto Everett’s hand and pushes her hooves into the rock face, using every ounce of strength she has to help the elven man up. It takes some time to for her to navigate and walk him through; and Cypress tries take a route with more walking than climbing because she figures that Everett must be tired and probably won’t want to climb much.

Once they reach the top, she looks up at the massive walls surrounding Sol City; the streets of which were her home for a very long time.

She blinks, turning to look back at Everett to make sure he’s still following; and for a moment, she watches him gaze back at the ocean. Cypress cocks her head inquisitively. She thinks of asking if he’s okay, or if he thinks he left something behind; but it isn’t long before Everett turns back around and states that they should go.

She lifts her ears, smiling sympathetically at him and nodding her agreement.

She turns and starts retracing her steps back to that little shanty town. She starts trying to think of doctors that she knows in town; attempting to pinpoint their locations on her internal map as she trudges through sparse beach grasses and prickly branches.

When Everett starts talking, though, she glances behind her shoulder.

“Huh?” She hums in acknowledgement, ears swiveling slightly; he asks about Mister Cyran and Miss Del, about her being here with them; and then he laughs awkwardly, apologizes, and continues to talk before she can really answer his first questions. Cypress can’t help but giggle softly at him; she’s confused but a little bemused by Everett’s chatter; although, when he mentions he can’t remember his family… 

She turns her head without responding, then fully turns around to face Everett without stopping; she walks backwards from that point.

“Mister Cyran and Miss Del run the Shade’s Orphanage,” she says; her hooves click every now and then, brushing up against rocks as she backs up in a straight line. “They aren’t my parents; but they take care of me, my little brother, and a bunch of other kids. They’re very nice. They take good care of us.” She tilts her gaze upwards, looking over Everett’s head at the night sky above them for a moment.

When she next blinks, she looks back at Everett sympathetically. “Um… I’m real sorry ‘bout your family, though, mister Everett… If it helps, I don’t remember much about mine, either.” She furrows her brows a bit, looking off to the side as she trods backwards, “Sometimes I think not remembering makes it easier, but sometimes I just think a lot about it.”

She slows her pace so she can walk beside Everett; and when the elven man has caught up to her, she turns around to walk forwards next to him. “But family comes in lots of different forms, too; like, my little brother! We’re not blood related, but I would do anything for him. We’ve been together for years.” She digs around in her bag, pulling out a little trinket that she shows Everett with a fond smile while they walk.

It appears to be a carved, wooden cat. ”I bought this for him at the festival. He has a stuffy that looks just like it.” She lowers her eyes again, tail wiggling slightly as she considers it. “It’s hard sometimes, but it’s not so bad all the time.”

Everett still feels terrible even though Cypress doesn't seem particularly upset with how much he's butchering this conversation. Her giggle helps lighten the mood, though he can't shake how foolish he feels for bringing up such a heavy topic with someone he just met, and a child at that. 

He shrugs a bit when Cypress offers her sympathies to him. "It's alright. It feels...normal. I don't really know how to explain it. I think that means no one is out there worrying about me." Almost immediately after he says it, he realizes how bleak that sounds and scoffs at himself. "Sorry, I'm just rambling now."

A smile crosses his face when Cypress talks more about her found family. It sounds nice. A family made of people who choose one another, rather than being bound by any loyalty through blood relation. He imagines it takes a lot of work, but maybe that makes it work better in the end. If it works at all. Nothing is guaranteed in life after all, and anything gained, no matter how hard you work for it, can disappear suddenly if your luck takes a turn. He briefly wonders just how much he's lost before his attention is brought back to Cypress and her infectious smile. 

"I'm sure your brother will love your gift."

Approaching the gates back into the city, since it's gotten late there are now a few guards stationed there to keep an eye on who comes and goes. With the festival still in full swing and people becoming more inebriated, it was prime time for trouble to start and escalate into something serious, or for some shady folks to slip their way into the crowds and pickpocket the vulnerable patrons. That said, the guards themselves, especially out by this less active gate weren't so stingy as to not partake in some drink themselves while they sit around and people watch. 

Two of the guards do spot Everett and Cypress approaching from the beach and rise to their feet. 

"Hey, hold a minute," one of the guards says as they raise a hand. 

As if instinctively, Everett straightens up and locks eyes with the guard. "At ease," he blurts out. 

There's an awkward silence for a moment as the guards exchange looks with furrowed brows. 

Everett blinks, realizing he said something really weird for someone who looks like they were dredged out of the ocean. Which he was. "Oh...uh...sorry."

The guard eyes him, then Cypress, then back at him. "You drunk or something?"

"Uh...just a little, sorry."

That answer seems to placate the guard a bit and they just roll their eyes. "No causing any trouble in town. You start something and we'll lock you up 'till you're sober. Got it?"

Everett nods, just not wanting to cause any trouble for Cypress. 

The guard then turns to Cypress. "Getting late, lass. You stay safe in the streets, y'hear?"

Cypress smiles sheepishly, brushing her thumb over the forehead of the wooden cat— it’s not painted yet, Cypress thought it would be fun for Cashmere to paint it himself — and if he doesn’t think so, then she’ll paint it for him so it doesn’t have to sit as a blank canvas. “I hope so.” She agrees, opening up her bag to pocket the trinket safely away.

It clicks against a few other trinkets as she puts it away; there’s two ravens— one for Cyran and one for Del; they’re similar but a little different, with poses that fit one another perfectly when set up just right. They’re painted a pearlescent ebony colour, glinting with prismatic hues in the right light. There’s the wooden cat for Cashmere that topples amongst them, and a bird whistle on a string that she plans to give to Oriole because it’s cutely painted in a glazed black and orange.

She still hasn’t found anything for Andromeda.

She closes her bag, not thinking of the little trinkets necessarily as she does so; there’s something else that’s been bugging her a little that Everett had said earlier.

At first, she hadn’t known what to say; the idea of being alone is… bleak and sad. Admittedly, Cypress is afraid of ultimately becoming what Everett says he already is; but she has Cashmere and the orphanage with which to tell herself that others care, right now. Others worry.

But, Mister Everett…

“Mister Everett?” She says sheepishly, latching her bag closed before she looks up at him, “About what you said earlier… that’s not necessarily true, ‘cause I’m worrying about you— so someone will always be out there worrying about you, now.” She smiles at him, but there’s not much time to talk after that when she realizes they’re approaching the gates of the city.

Oh boy.

She does a double take; she takes a little breath, preparing herself for the interaction; then, she raises her hand and waves enthusiastically at the guards. She’s about to start bullshitting her way through a conversation to get by— something she is, regrettably, rather used to— when Everett straightens up and —

… At ease!?

Where did that come from!?

His command for the guards even makes her speechless.

Cypress stares at him blankly, gawking slightly while the guards exchange a look; and then does her best to get it together before she starts to look suspicious. Which, next to Everett at this point, would be a great feat. 

She clears her throat, perking her ears and offering a friendly smile to the guard when they look towards her.

“Oh— of course!” She agrees; now that she has their attention, she hooks her arm through Everett’s as a show of familiarity and offers the guards a curtsy with her free hand. “I’m here with my father, so I should be just fine— thank you for your concern. He’s… mostly sobered up with a walk in the sea air.” She tugs a little on Everett’s arm, trying to direct him to start walking, so they don’t get wrapped up in explaining too many contradicting details to the guards. “We’re just going to grab some food on the way back to the inn— shouldn't be out for much longer.”

Once she’s certain the guards aren’t about to stop them, she turns just enough to wave, “Thank you for your hard work keeping the festivities in order tonight!” and then promptly rushes Everett towards the crowd. “At ease?” She repeats, still utterly flabbergasted. “Are you a captain or something, Mister Everett? What was that??”

“Hm?” Everett looks down at Cypress as she closes her bag. He’s surprised by her words and can’t help but smile. “I appreciate that.”

That cute moment is short lived when everything goes sideways at the gates.

One of the guards raises their eyebrow at Cyrpess' claim that Everett is her father. They sure didn't look related to him, but he isn’t too keen on giving himself more work by having to track down Cypress’ real parents. Cypress’ behavior convinces him that this at least isn’t a kidnapping situation, more likely a sneaking out after curfew. Typical teenager.

Everett doesn't object to Cypress pulling him along once the situation with the guards is diffused. He's still reeling from what he said as the young satyr leads him away from the gate and back into the city streets. The words had just come out so naturally and without a second thought, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why he said that.

"I'm sorry!” He bows his head to Cypress out of embarrassment. “I don't know why I said that."

He makes a bit of a face at the suggestion that maybe he’s a captain. It’s possible, and considering Cypress found him on the beach maybe he had been in a shipwreck previously. Something about that line of thinking did seem to settle well in his mind, stilling some of the unease he feels.

“I might have been…but I am not certain.” If he was to be honest with himself, he doesn’t seem like the captain type. He’s not confident or commanding enough. “Maybe a deckhand?” Something felt off about that, but he’s not sure what to make of it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

He starts to consider telling Cypress to go on back to her guardians. Now that he's past the gates, he should be able to figure out how to get around the city on his own and maybe find a place to rest for the evening. Though, as he looks around, he quickly realizes he doesn’t recognize anything or know which way to go. Not to mention that he’s got no money with him. Even if he found an inn for the night, he couldn’t afford to stay there.

Feeling bad about relying on Cypress so much, he laments having no way to repay her for her time and aid. He has has little choice given the current circumstances, but that doesn't make him feel any better about it. He'd just have to figure out how to repay the debt once he's able to. And he certainly would. One day. 

"So...about those offices?" he asks sheepishly. 

Everett bows his head in apology, but honestly, Cypress isn’t trying to push for one. She appears a bit exasperated, but only because she doesn’t know if she could pull off a one-child jail break should Everett have been arrested for something… and a spike in anxiety is enough to get her in trouble, too.

Imagine if she set a guard on fire the same way she set that arm on fire? Oh, gods. She sighs, ears drooping at the very idea of it. “It’s okay,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not your fault, mister Everett. I get nervous around the guards sometimes, too.” Although, she’s not entirely sure how much of that was nerves; he seemed plenty confident saying it until the guards made faces at him.

Something about what he says troubles her a little, though; he didn’t remember how he got onto the beach, he doesn’t remember his family, and now he doesn’t remember what he was, either? A deckhand… maybe? If she’s honest, she thought maybe he had only forgotten a few things, but… has he forgotten so much…? Maybe she’s been so caught up in everything else that she just hasn’t thought deeply into it.

She feels a little guilty for that.

She blinks, looking up at Everett when he asks about the offices. “Oh! Oh, um… right. I know where they are!”

Generally.

Cypress looks into the gaggle of crowdgoers, already knowing they’ll need to push through them to get to the roads they need to be on. She doesn’t focus on any one of them for too long, but does hope the people who saw her meltdown earlier are long gone...

She takes a deep breath to steel herself, then pulls Everett forwards into the cheery atmosphere of mirth and glee that comes with the territory of any festival. “Mister Everett?” She chirps, weaving around a small line waiting for food from one of the stalls. It smells good, whatever it is. She tries to look around the line with perked ears, before looking back up at the washed up half-elf. “You don’t gotta answer, but um… how much stuff do you actually remember about yourself?”

Everett looks at Cypress and sees her ears droop. He feels awful for putting her in a situation she's not comfortable with, especially when he doesn't have a good explanation for what he said or why he acted like that around the guards. It could be part of his history that he has forgotten, but that only makes for more questions than answers. Why would he have had any connection to the guards? What kind of authority would someone have to have to justify talking to them that way? Just who was he?

He snaps out of it when Cypress moves to lead him to the nearest office. Eager not to lose her in the crowd, he takes her hand when it's offered and lets the young satyr pull him along. 

The crowd of unfamiliar faces all moving about and chattering amongst themselves makes him a bit anxious. The sights, sounds, and smells of the festival cause some sensory overload for him, but he takes a breath and focuses on not losing Cypress in the chaos. 

They pass by a line of folks and have to weave around them to avoid any disgruntled looks. The wafting smell of something roasting over an open flame makes his mouth water as he realizes just how hungry he is. The apple Cypress had given him was good, but it wasn't exactly filling for someone who couldn't even remember the last time he ate a proper meal. 

"Mister Everett?"

"Hm?" He looks down at Cypress, his attention brought back from the thoughts of food to her. 

"How much stuff do you actually remember about yourself?"

There's a long stretch of silence from the half-elf. The more he thinks about it, trying his best to recall anything at all, the more he looks at a complete loss for words. He finally shakes his head, resigning to the fact that he's drawing a blank. Or several. 

"Not a lot, really....I know my name at least, but most other things are hazy." He takes a breath. "I'm sorry. Maybe the healers can help or we'll get lucky and something will jog my memory."

Cypress’ ears lift when Everett hums at her, and then there’s… silence while he thinks about her question. Her steps slow, and Cypress waits for him to reply; but he doesn’t with anything particularly comforting. She feels a little as if she’s been plunged into a bucket of cold water as Everett admits he knows his name at the least, but that’s all that’s clear for him; and she realizes just how much she’s actually misunderstood his entire situation.

She’d thought maybe he just didn’t remember the accident that brought him to the shores of Sol City, like… more of a short term memory loss, or trauma, that she’s read about in medical books… but that’s not quite right, is it?

He must be scared, right? 

She would be so scared...

Sympathy and concern washes over her in a wave; this is something a lot more serious than a missing arm and a washed-up man, and she feels terrible for making so many light assumptions. “O-oh.” She tries not to linger on it for too long, because she doesn’t want to make Everett concerned; he already looks a little uneasy, but Cypress isn’t sure what to do about it to help.

Maybe he would like something sweet or something tasty to eat?

When Cashmere is upset, she always buys him something nice to eat to take his mind off of his worries until she can think of what to say to make it better. Her go-to is hot chocolate, but in the dead of summer, it’s a little warm for that… but she still has money in her bag; and she thinks she can remember a stand for kebabs and sugar-glazed fruits somewhere around here…

“Um… today’s the Summer Festival in Sol City.” She tells him even though it’s pretty obvious; she’s not actually sure if he knows that, though. “The streets are usually crowded, but they’re never this bad unless the tourists are here to visit.” She weaves around another small line, and turns into a street where most of the crowd seems to have already passed through, leaving large gaps in the decorated vicinities.

Lanterns hang with gentle auras of light, and street vendors stand in front of, or behind their stalls, chatting with lingering customers or with each other as business starts to slow down. Once they’re in a slower area, Cypress lets go of Mister Everett’s hand and starts rustling around in her bag for her coin purse as they walk; she knows where they are now, and they should get to one of the offices in just a few more turns, but first— “One second!” The girl breaks away from Everett to one of the stalls nearby, catching the attention of a fellblood woman in a pretty lace top, who offers her a side-smile from the conversation she’s having with an elven man at a stall nearby.

She cuts off her conversation to lean against the counter. “Hi, sweetheart. What do you need?”

“Two please!” Cypress peeps, pushing a couple of solars across the counter in return for a couple of roasted kebabs— and after noticing the sugared fruits, she points and receives one of those, as well. The fellblood woman offers her a practiced wave as Cypress grabs the handles and trots back to Everett, immediately offering him— well, she was going to offer him both, but then she remembered he has one hand to work with, so she offers him one sheepishly.

“Having something to eat helps settle my stomach sometimes,” she admits, “The festivals are fun, but I don’t like the crowds… Um, that’s why I ended up at the beach. The office isn’t too far from here, so… hopefully they’ll be able to help when we get there.”

Everett isn't sure how to feel about his missing memory. A normal person would be panicking right? So why does he feel so numb? He's uneasy, sure, but he's not feeling particularly scared or angry. Nothing he feels is that sharp, almost like the edge of everything has been taken off and left dull. 

"Summer Festival..."

That sounds...familiar, right? He's not sure. He feels like it might be something fairly normal to know about, but it doesn't spark any specific recollections. 

At the very least, it's lively. There's no shortage of things to look at and it's both exciting and overwhelming. Without his memories, things feel so foreign and new, yet there are echoes of things that feel vaguely familiar. The sounds of people laughing and talking, moving through crowded streets like an eel opposing the tide, and the smells wafting through the air. 

"One second!"

Everett looks down just as Cypress scurries off to a nearby stall. He watches her for a moment before looking back at the dangling lanterns and other decorations. It is kinda pretty. 

When Cypress returns, he looks at her with a smile. 

"Oh, thank you."

He takes the kebab and gives it an initial sniff. Doing so makes his stomach immediately grumble as he's reminded of just how hungry he is. It smells great, though any food would smell amazing to him. Taking a bite proves the food to be just as good as it smells and it doesn't take long for him to eat every bit off the stick. Having something in his stomach improves his mood significantly.

"It is pretty busy, the beach is a lot quieter," he nods in agreement. "I'm ready to go whenever you are. You've already spent so much time helping me, I don't want to keep you out all night."

“Pff, like I’ve got anywhere better to go!” Cypress snuffs with a chuckle, then realizes that he might not like that joke given their conversation from earlier. “Oh, um; sorry, right! We need to get you to a doctor who can fix you up and make sure you’re healthy aaand see if they can fix you up 'cause ya might have a concussion!” That’s very important, after all! Especially after an accident! Cypress takes a determined bite of the sugar-glazed fruits she bought while she glances around.

Where are they, again?

Man, this fruit is good; probably because it’s covered in sugar.

Hm… Oh! Right.

She bites into a sugar-coated strawberry and starts plodding towards an intersection, stopping only to wait for Everett, before she continues forwards. The lanterns gleam at the corners of her eyes as she walks, glittering against the decorative pathways of the Capitol.

She’s walked these streets time and time before, but there’s still something magical and unique about walking them now without worrying about what happens after.

She slows her steps for the elf to catch up, making sure he’s never too far behind, until they approach a golden-bricked building. A sign sits out front, reading, “Capitol Cures, Tinctures, and Sundries”; and it’s one that she’s very familiar with. She can’t even begin to count the times she’s hovered around this same block, watching the old halfling lady who works the front mix elixirs and potions, or restock drying herbs through the window.

She always seemed very nice, but Cypress never had the courage to actually approach her. 

Even now, the thought is a little nerve-racking; she’s not sure she ever quite shook off the title of a street urchin; and one can only hear that they should keep their grubby hands and hooves off clean floors and items so many times before never wanting to hear it again.

Still, Everett needs help— even if he seems completely fine by all accounts— he was still in a bad accident… probably. She thinks. 

It’s okay, she can brave if it means making sure he’s not hurt. That's what a good doctor would do!

... Even if they made a few pitstops on the way.

She chews on a slice of tangerine as she approaches, distracting her nerves with an onslaught of sugar and tang from the citrus, and glances for any sign of a light on in the window. 

“Um, the lady here is… I think her name is Miss Goldleaf?” She remarks quietly, narrowing her eyes as she peeks into a darkened storefront. She thinks she sees some light peeking through one of the doors in the back, but it’s hard to say whether that means anyone’s in or not; she circles around, trying the door— but it just jangles and doesn’t open.

She frowns.

“Hellloooo?” She calls, bonking on the door with a closed fist to see if she can get someone's attention. “Are you closed for the night?”

Everett monches on the rest of his kebab as he follows Cypress through the busy festival streets. The glitter of the lantern lights and the busy streets make it hard not to get distracted as they head towards the herbalist's shop. He does make sure to keep Cypress in sight, which is easy enough given how he can peer over most people's heads. 

When they come to a stop in front of the shop, the windows are dark and the door appears to be locked. Even as Cypress knocks on the door and calls out, no one comes to the door. It is late after all, and there's a good chance the owner might be out on the streets enjoying the festival themselves. They'd likely have better luck returning first thing in the morning when others would be looking for cures for their hangovers. 

"Ah, Cypress, don't worry if we can't see someone tonight. I at least know where this is now, so I should be able to find it tomorrow." 

Come to think of it, what is he going to do for the rest of the night. He doesn't have any coin to buy a room at an inn, but that doesn't mean he couldn't wash dishes or floors in exchange for a room. If that doesn't work he could just crash in an alleyway. Anyone who would rob him would be pretty disappointed, but the guards might give him more grief than any opportunistic pickpockets. 

Ah, well. He's only been awake for a few hours now so he's not in a huge rush to find a place to sleep anyway. Still, he doesn't want to keep Cypress out all night. Even if her guardians wouldn't notice until morning, the kid needs her rest too. 

His gaze is drawn to the gap between two buildings across the street. He can just make out the white caps of the ocean catching the moonlight beyond the city's rooftops. For a moment he almost can imagine the sound of the waves over the din of the crowd, but then a different sound catches his attention. Music from a nearby bar, specifically a fiddle that kicks up into a jaunty sea shanty. He doesn't recognize the song specifically, but the sound is somewhat familiar. 

He looks back at Cypress and smiles. "I'll try again in the morning."

There doesn’t seem to be anyone inside.

Cypress cups her hands, trying to squint through the glass, but it could just be a lantern on in the back to give the impression of occupancy to deter wandering eyes. She frowns, tail wagging back and forth in displeasure as she pulls back and crosses her arms. 

Shoot… what now? 

She glances up at Everett with a slight frown, but ultimately relents when he suggests he can find it in the morning; she doesn’t like the idea of him not seeing anybody tonight. She hears that concussions can be pretty dangerous if not addressed, but…

What if tomorrow’s too late? It’s a bad night to seek medical attention; between the late night and the summer festival, that is… but what else can she do? Drag Everett around to each and every herbalist, doctor, or healer in town only to find them all closed?

“Okay…” She agrees reluctantly, “Promise that you’ll go first thing though? Just to make sure you’re okay.” She glances back at Everett with perked ears, concern reflecting behind her eyes. Speaking of ‘in the morning’, actually… “Do you have a place to stay, Mister Everett?” she inquires… 

Or money for food, drink, payment for the check-up that he should really get— any of that, as a matter of fact?

A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Yes, I promise."

He then rubs the back of his neck sheepishly at Cypress' question. "Ah, well, not exactly." He turns his trouser pockets inside out, displacing a shower of sand and a small crab that scuttles off across the ground. "I don't have any coin. I guess I'll have to see if there are any inns or ships that I could trade work for board at least for tonight." 

His eyes drift up to the sky as he takes a gander at the current temperament of the sky. It's hard to see the stars due to just how bright the lantern lights in the streets are, but it looks fairly clear and the wind doesn't seem to be carrying any signs of an approaching storm.  "If not, I can sleep," he says with a shrug. 

Looking back down at Cypress, he can see the corner in her eyes. "I'll be alright. Thanks to you I'm a lot better off than if I had woken up alone." 

He wouldn't ask anything more of the young satyr. She had already done so much and he couldn't say for certain if helping him was safe to do in the first place. Since he doesn't remember anything specific about who he is beyond his name, there's a lingering fog of uncertainty-- of the unknown-- surrounding him.

What if he has enemies who recognize him and then they go after Cypress for helping him? What if he's a bad person and Cypress gets in trouble even though her intentions were in good place? That'd be awful, and the thought of her getting hurt because of him makes his stomach churn.

Well, that and the fact that he's still pretty hungry. Gods, feels like he hasn't eaten for days. 

A gentle smile spreads across his face. "I really appreciate all that you've done. I won't do anything to make your efforts be in vain. I don't know a lot of things, but I know I wouldn't feel right about wasting all the kindness and compassion you've shown me. You don't have to worry, I just need to get my bearings then everything will be fine."

Cypress watches Everett turn out his pockets; she bristles a little as a small crab scurries out of his pockets— how long had that been in there?— and then gazes up towards the sky while he remarks that he’ll find a place to trade work for stay. She blinks, frowning even though Everett assures her that he’ll be alright; although, she’s glad that she was there when he woke up. It’s nice to hear he appreciates that, at least.

The satyr’s ears flick back and forth restlessly; there’s very little that she can do at this point. At the end of the day, she’s just a kid— she’s not a doctor, she’s not a healer, and she’s not an alchemist. She can’t tell Everett that he’s okay, or help him with his memory loss, or bring back his arm; and in hindsight, it was perhaps a little silly that she thought somehow, she could.

Money makes the world go round— that much she understands from being on the streets for the first memorable years of her life— up to about a year ago. Solars get you food, clothes, and shelter; and people will take advantage of your work because you’re in a bad spot, putting you in a worse spot through exhaustion and a pocketful of solars just barely enough to buy you an apple from the market.

And repeat.

She doesn’t have to do that, anymore; she doesn’t have to steal. She doesn’t have to wonder when her next meal would be. She doesn’t have to try and pick up odd jobs from grouchy old elves who’d let a little urchin kid work, just to pay her a few coin.

She’s not alone because someone helped her— because Mister Cyran helped her.

She glances back up at Everett, listening to him speak with a gentle smile that’s strangely comforting. She lowers her eyes, then glances back at him with a smile. “Good.” She says, reaching out for Everett’s hand; if he allows her to take it, she promptly places her coin purse into his hand and steps back. If not, she still offers it to him with a certain persistence. “Get your bearings, but take this with you, kay? And don’t say no!” She adds, her voice lightly stern. “I’m going back to an inn, so I won’t need it. Maybe it’s enough to get you a room, but maybe it’s not; it'll at least pay for a check-up and meals. Maybe you can even enjoy some of the festivities before they close!”

She takes a little breath and offers Everett a sympathetic smile. “People should help each other. Charon would be a lot nicer if we did, wouldn’t it? It’ll rest my mind a little if you’ll accept it, even if it’s not much.”