Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sajahka stretched his arms over his head, humming absently to himself. It might or might not have been some bastardized rendition of whatever had been playing in the bar the night prior, or something Nyko sang repeatedly, or a strange medley of both. No one was about to hear him as he wandered down the length of the beach now (finally) looking familiar, so the exact tune didn’t seem to matter much. He was simply pleased to have made it back ‘home’ without undue trouble after his night’s forays into unfamiliar territory.

And, he supposed, a variety of other pleasing things. Like the fact that he now had funding for his and Nyko’s expedition, a full stomach, and a whole host of new experiences to add to his metaphorical belt of accomplishments and engaged-in-endeavors. His mind was as such nicely occupied, by recent memory and by the thought — as he squinted upward past the skyline to the rising sun — that the man he had spent the prior night with just might be rising by now.

He was still smiling when raised voices distracted him from his thoughts. Then, of course, curiosity was bound to get the better of him, and did.

Nyko was the most pleasant surprise he could possibly have asked for. What he was doing? Well, that seemed to be another matter entirely, and not a question Sajah was in any position as of yet to answer. As he strode closer, though, the full sight of it doing nothing to dampen his mood and in fact setting the bar high for expectations on the rest of the day, haven already given him such a good start.

Once he was in range of conversation, he whistled.

Sajah blinked. It looks good on you.

He flashed his teeth, and reached into his pocket as he strode across the sand, positioning himself at the opposite end of Nyko’s little ‘obstacle course’ and hefting Leukos’ coin purse in his palm—enough to be sure the coins clinked audibly inside—before tossing it onto the end goal platform. It landed with a clack in the platform’s center.

«Come see why I am,» he invited. «I have a story to tell you.» He tipped his head, thoughtful for a moment before adding with an amused spark in his eye. «And maybe after I finish you can go buy yourself something nice.»

As Sajah watched, Nyko’s train of reactions was a masterpiece from beginning to end. When his friend shouted out full vocal and made a sprint forward, Sajah figured it bound for failure—and was right. After the brief contained wince at his fall, however, Nyko seemed to make the best of it, and Sajah’s expression was back to a dimly amused smirk at Nyko’s wheezing, panting state as he clamored onto the end platform. Sajah shook his head.

He had just raised his hands to sign when Nyko, hefting the full weight of it in his palm, made his final outburst, and a sprinkle of heat dusted his ears. His mouth, though, stretched further into a lopsided grin.

«I went to a bar last night,» he signed. «I thought that drunks would make for easy steals.» He gestured to the coin bag, now secure in Nyko’s grip. «I was right. It should be enough to cover us for several months’ travel, if we are mostly careful. But there is enough…I think you could buy yourself a pretty good luck charm for yourself to remember here by.»

Sajah watched Nyko’s lips as they pressed to the coinbag he’d procured, and then to his friend’s legs as he swung them loose in the moments before he prepared to hop down. Then, his instructor called out—and Nyko was bolting, catching at him and taking him along for the run. As soon as he caught on at least, Sajah flashed his teeth, and took off with him at his own rate. If the goal was to out run the old woman, they might as well race while doing it.

Nyko’s legs were longer than his, but he had a good burst of a start, and even if he fell behind and lost, the view would be worth it.

It was a good morning for a run, besides.

Sajah’s feet battered the sand, so at home with the feel of it and the race of his pulse and adrenaline then that for a moment, he almost forgot he was doing anything else. Then, Nyko’s hand reached, and on contact Sajah was looped back into the race. Nyko’s momentum battered him, and for an instant it was almost but not quite enough to tip him fully off-balance. At the tipping point, however, Sajah opted to twist instead of fighting it, catching on to Nyko’s arm, pulling with the momentum he already had going, and sending them both over, tumbling into the sand.

As they rolled, Sajah pushed, reaching to stop them on the sand with himself overtop his friend, panting downward for a moment, and then, as the situation dawned on him in full, flashing flush cheeked grin, and rolling off of the other boy before anything became too obvious even for Nyko to miss. «You win, I think. Or we could call it a draw?»

Nyko was a sight in any state. Just following a night of far-more-scandalous-than-he-was-used-to activity, however, Sajah’s mind was especially vulnerable to the view of him strewn onto his back, flushed and breathless with his hair tossed about like a disheveled nymph. Tempting as it had been, it really was far too dangerous to remain atop him, so he settled for his current perch, ears heating all the further when Nyko’s hand squeezed his.

The sun and sporadic exercise were easy enough to blame, he supposed. It was harder to blame away the nervous heat that stuttered up his throat his throat and bunched there, holding his breath fast for a moment when Nyko’s gaze held his.

Where…?

“Ah.” He blinked and dipped his gaze before cocking his head and standing. Stepping over Nyko, he fetched the coin purse, and then moved back, standing over his friend with one foot to either side of him in the sand as he hefted its weight assessingly. One, two, three… One by one, he dropped coins lightly onto Nyko’s chest. They seemed to come in three main sizes and colors and he could guess the value scale, but wasn’t sure how far exactly the coin would go in this particular market. Still, he took what he considered to be a good workable starting point—enough to cover ‘something nice’ that would satisfy Nyko without leaving them scarce going forward—and then cinched the bag shut. «Anywhere you want.»

He stepped to the side of the other boy. «Anything for you.» And he held out a hand to help him up, flashing teeth.

Oh, that kind of travel.

Sajah had thought Nyko meant his question in regards to where to head shopping, but apparently bigger things were on his mind. He grunted as he took Nyko’s hand, helping him up, but listening closely when it came to where he intended to head. Sajah was leery about Jauhar at best. The sprawling fungal metropolis stretched for miles—miles, and miles, further than could be seen across even an open end endless expanse of desert, but black with shadow and knotted with trees. He had never been outside of Oba prior to now, but he didn’t imagine that particular location pleasantly. They knew nothing of the environment, how to live there, had no contacts, and so far as Sajah understood it, the only things to find there besides toxic wildlife were tribes of moon people and a race of women who sported a reputation for being even more xenophobic, genocidal, and entitled than their Oban masters before now.

Zena, however, sounded at least manageable, and likely did have sizable stores of wealth if they could find the clothes to keep them from becoming freshly iced seafood. Tale and Sauti were also workable. Sajah actually quite liked Matori, himself. But that wasn’t on the list, and since ‘north’ of them was Sauti and Zena (and not Jauhar, by any stretch of at least Sajah’s understanding of their geographic location), it seemed agreeable enough overall.

«North,» he agreed. Just to be clear. «North is good.»

A band of more than just the two of them presented issues of its own—he trusted no one, and had minimal faith in the untapped talent of Matori’s shoreline, just waiting to be inspired into showing itself for a troupe audition. But there was no denying that adding to their ranks would likely lower personal dangers to themselves overall with there being safety and numbers. And perhaps some of Nyko’s hand-selected friends—newly-hires?—band mates?—would know something about the land his friend wanted to travel through.

Just not Jauhar. Since they were going north. Hopefully.

«How many? You could hold a contest. Have…» What did one do, to pick performing act teammates? «…interviews.»