Welcome to Gaia! ::

Yejide rustled around in her pockets to try to see what she had in there and how much she could spend. She was in the market for something, but she hadn’t quite decided what yet.

She wanted to see if she could find a present for a particular somebody. She wasn’t quite sure what she would like, but she thought maybe if she saw it she would know,.

She walked through the market place, trying to read the signage and look through the goods when something caught her eye. It was a slightly faded sign, like it had been there a while, but it was pretty simple. ‘Homebrewed Goods’ with an arrow pointing into a small walkway between two clusters of trees.

Odd, but ok, she’d bite.

The path between the tree clusters was darker than the market proper, as if the canopy above conspired to keep this particular stretch shaded. Vines hung low, brushing her shoulders like they were trying to pull her back. She batted them away.

The sign hadn’t promised much, but something about it tugged at her curiosity. She followed the trail until it opened into a small nook lit by bioluminescent jars hanging from the branches.

A stall sat crooked against the roots of a huge tree, with shelves of mismatched bottles in all shades and shapes.

She hadn’t noticed Hyten at first. Her focus had landed on a tiny bottle the color of wildfire.

It sat in the middle of the stall, surrounded by far less vivid potions, like a centerpiece. The label was smudged but legible: Clarity.

She snorted.

It sounded like a scam, but it also sounded… tempting. She wasn’t sure if she wanted clarity or to smash the bottle on the ground, but that probably said something about her state of mind.

She gave him a sidelong glance, slow and unimpressed.

“Depends,” she said. “Do you drink mysterious liquids from strangers often?”

Her tone was dry enough to parch moss. He looked too clean for this place. Not in clothes—his clothes were worn, serviceable—but in spirit. Like he hadn’t had to claw his way out of anything yet. She turned back to the bottle.

It wasn’t labeled clearly.

That figured.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re either brave or stupid.”

She didn’t wait for him to answer—she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear which one.

“This stuff?” she held the bottle up to the light filtering through the jars overhead, watching the liquid inside shimmer like burning coals. “It’s called Clarity. Could mean a hundred things. Could strip your thoughts bare. Could make you hallucinate your ex for three days.” She set it down. “Either way, not for someone just trying to ‘have a good time.’”

She snorted before she could stop herself. Just a short breath, but still—annoying. She didn’t know this kid, didn’t want to like his stupid commentary, and yet here she was, trying not to smirk.

“That one’s not judging you,” she said. “It’s singing. Badly. It’s one of those memory potions. Sings the last thing someone said when they were crying.”

She tilted her head.

“Vendor said he doesn’t keep it corked because the silence creeps him out more.”

“Not from here, but close enough,” she said. “Been around a bit.” Her voice was steady, but distant.

“I’ve seen a lot of markets like this one. Some real, some fronts. All of them trying to sell you something you think you want.” She looked at him again. “You sure you’re old enough to be wandering into alley booths by yourself?”