WC: 597

His homeworld really never offered many answers to culture and history. Massalia was a large desertworld, with oases throughout for water, and only these places nutured anything more than a cactus, whom thirsty roots awaited the rains, rains making mud, rains wearing down the mudbrick, crumbling ruins of the anxient Massalians. But these homes were just frames, the contents long since gone. While nothing was buried in the dirt floors, that didn't seem to be natural.

Massalia never really visited his homeworld much. Not before, and while he knew he ought to, he also knew his mother ought yo noy have thrown him out on ther streets as a teenager, so he didn't put much stock in "Ought-to". Still, he walked through passively, not really looking hard for anything, but taking in sights. There weren't many buildings; not really. Mud brick buildings, baked in the sun and smoothed and worn by the rains circles a communal space; a fre pit, dessicated wooden poles barely clinging on that looked to have once held rods for cooking. Really, everything looked community driven, from the cooking to the social spaces.

It was... Strange, to him, and not on other levels. He supposed people on Massalia just viewed social groups differently, and he was in no position to judge. If anything he judged himself for not doing... Whatever made him less garbage in battle. And he knew he was a garbage combatant -- he refused to admit to Bailey his magic just confused people. That was embarressing. Instead, he focused more on other areas. But looking around was nice, seconds before his foot found something half buried -- poking out perhaps as if an afterthought, and he blinked, bending down and tugging before digging, unearthing a metallic armband, punctuated with a paw marking.

An adult.

Ahole'ne looked to the coyote sleeping nearby, and reached to pet him, rubbing the animal's eart as he studied his armband. His companion opened an eye and looked up, making a low 'erf' before stretching and wrapping forepaws about the Senshi of Massalia's hand. He supposed it made sense he lacked difficulty in his task of taming a companion, but it still made him wonder as he looked at his armband again. Ahole'ne, thje man. Ahole'ne, the adult. But did it need this many paws? He only tamed one, but then, he supposed... Well, he supposed all coyote on Massalia suited him, but he didn't want to exert that. He had his lifelong companion, even if he married? Kerr was enough coyote, the little trickster. Kerr looked to his master lazily, before yawning wide and re-flopping comfortably, tail wagging lazily as Ahole'ne smiled, and put the armband back on. His best boy. His pupper.

Manhood? Massalia blinked out of the memory and wrinkled his nose, looking at the armband that was part of his fuku originally, then back at the item in his hand. No, he didn't tame a coyote, but he'd owned a dog? Did that count? Wait, was anyone really going to judge? Not here, really. Very carefully ge adjusted his first band before putting the new metal one on, before posing and studying it a bit. It fit, of course, perfectly -- likely, magic -- but the fact he suddenly seemed alight was...

You know what he'd see what he did to himself, or at least, his fuku, afterwards. Later?

Yeah he'd... Check later. He was mostly here for an inspection, and Bailey was at home waiting for him. Massalia sighed, rubbing the back of his head, before he sighed, disappearing in a small cloud of dust, as Massalia resumed it's quiet, and calm.