《Nomad》 Housing Progress Geurk remembers this feeling for as long as he¡¯s been here. The cold breeze on his face, the distant sounds of voices below him. The warmth of inhaling smoke, it¡¯s all strangely comforting. He sits on his apartment porch, legs hanging off into the air below. He feels like a child, too small for his feet to reach the floor. But sadly he was a grown man, reaching his thirties at that. Still stuck with a roommate and no comfortable career. Like all in the Housing Progress, he has no set home. He was made to wander an unfamiliar space, full of mysticism and idols. Devout delusional people who still make offerings to statues. He looks down at them now, below in the allies are a few people. Maybe two. Who wear ornate and detailed colorful robes. Stitched with leaves coming out the sleeves and ropes with tassels around their waists. Barefoot on the gravel ground. Geurk cringes at how that may feel. taking another breath of his cigarette he lets out smoke into the night. Behind he hears the shuffling of a curtain. ¡°Man, you¡¯re going to freeze out here,¡± Out comes his roommate, he forgets the Lisk''s name sometimes. Leto, that¡¯s it. ¡°It¡¯s nice out, I won¡¯t feel a thing.¡± Leto¡¯s freckled face scrunches. He has the crazy brown curls all Lisks have, and his brown eyes squint. ¡°If you insist, it¡¯s not even Spring yet. You have your feet out and everything. That¡¯s a recipe for a cold.¡± He goes back behind the curtains, the motion sending another breeze to Geurk. He huffs. Looking down below again, the alleys now empty and silent. The city''s curfew seems so early. Back at Geurks old place in Myoka, before the Housing Progress, nightlife was abundant. In the Blue District, no one ever slept. It took a toll on everyone but it was a nice atmosphere, somehow always hearing voices and music made you feel less alone. The silence was a rare occurrence. Finishing his cigarette and stubbing it, Geurk stands up. Stretching his arms and rubbing at his neck. Tiredness always caught up to him. He goes past the curtain inside, seeing Leto cooking something. It smelled of sweet spice, almost floral. Steam escapes the kitchen, hovering at the ceiling. It¡¯s a quaint place, with enough space for a living room with a couch and a fuzzy old TV. Blankets and banners line the walls and floors. Nomad patterns were etched into them, swirling circles and creatures dancing on the fabrics. Radio static and music echo through the apartment, calming classical. With soft drums and sweet strings. ¡°Whatcha makin'' swirls?¡± Leto Chuckles, sighing. ¡°Batominh, it¡¯s Lisk.¡± ¡°Smells like it, what''s in it?¡± Leto sets a lid on his pan, fumbling over to see Geurk lazing on the couch. ¡°Chicken, ginger, onions.¡± Geurk cringes, giving him a look. Leto smiles wide. ¡°Do you only make these things so I don''t eat them?¡± ¡°Maybe if you cook once in a while you can make something you like.¡± He goes back to his pan, sifting the meal, it hissing and yelping. Geurk closes his eyes and listens to the radio. Nodding his head and humming. Though Leto¡¯s voice rings out again. ¡°...the Office called me.¡± Geurks eyes go wide, he lays still. ¡°They, uh, asked about how you were doing.¡± ¡°What¡¯d you tell them? That I¡¯m some lazy bird wasting rent?¡± ¡°Woah. That¡¯s... Extreme. You haven''t been trying to get a job though. It worries me.¡± Getting up, Geurk walks over to Leto. Leaning onto the cluttered counter and looking annoyed. Squinting his eyes and huffing like an annoyed child. Toying with his jacket zipper. He spouts, ¡°I¡¯ve told you. I¡¯ve been trying. Everyone has been so difficult. I bet it''s my dumb pass. Can¡¯t believe I have to wear it. I¡¯m not some criminal.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just required, People are understanding Geurk. Where have you been applying?¡± The Myokan grumbles. Looking at his jacket sleeve, the stitched BD pass mocking him. ¡°The laundromat..uh, bar.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been here a few months man. Many people have been trying to help people like you.¡± ¡°Like me?¡± Geurk titters, Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°I¡¯m a screw up Leto. I.¡± ¡°No. You¡¯re not. We welcome you here to have a new start. Use it.¡± Leto emphasizes those last two words. Mixing the Batominh with no care. ¡°...fine. I¡¯ll, uh, look. Okay? Any time the Office calls, give the phone to me.¡± ¡°So you can lie about progress?¡± ¡°Stop man. I get it. I¡¯ll go out tomorrow.¡± ¡°Good. Hey¡­ there''s no onions in this by the way. I was just being a jerk.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± The two sit awkwardly for dinner. Only the sound of the radio battles the silence. Geurk would never say it, but he loved Leto¡¯s cooking. He does remember the Lisk mentioning how his family was very adamant about cooking. He¡¯s been perfecting his recipes for years, sometimes getting expensive ingredients to just create something of quality for himself and others. Geurk is his first roommate, he signed up for the program before others. Having someone in the house would be nice, he¡¯s been alone ever since he got away from his parents. Afterward, Geurk cleans the kitchen, he owes Leto a few chores. He changes the radio when the Lisk goes to retire in his room. He hums along to the rock music, something that only played late at night. The music being new to the region, time was hard to find for new stations. Maybe Geurk should visit where they broadcast, he knows a thing or two about radios, and he doesn¡¯t worry about being a voice on the air. It might be fun. He sets the dishes aside, letting them air dry. Looking behind him he sees a couple of plants sitting happily on the counter. They seem to enjoy the shade, but he¡¯s reminded of the cold as their leaves shiver and jump. Settling down he closes the curtains to the porch and sheds his jacket and shirt. Collapsing onto the couch. Face muffled into the cushions, he sniffs. The room was still cold. He piles blankets atop himself, he probably caught a cold. ¡ª---------- Groggily opening his eyes, Geurk¡¯s body aches. He sniffs and hums, his mouth dry. The curtains are open, the morning light hurting his eyes. Leto¡¯s voice is in the background. ¡°Yes, I understand. He never told me this.¡± Geurk sits up, rubbing at his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him. Thank you. You have a good day too.¡± He moved his dark hair to see that the outside was dreary and gray. Though now no wind came in to nip at feet. Voices beside Leto¡¯s mumble down below, bells ring from a nearby market. Announcing the opening of shops and exhibits. Meaning it must still be early morning, something Geurk¡¯s not used to. Then again he did have a nice dinner and was potentially sick. Sleeping early was not his forte. The telling sound of Leto putting the phone away, him huffing and mumbling, makes Geurk look in his direction. Leto looks off today, not wearing a smile. ¡°Geurk we need to talk. Put some clothes on.¡± ¡°Hm? We heading somewhere?¡± ¡°No. Gather your things too.¡± Geurk takes a moment to try to discern the Lisk''s mood. But he can¡¯t get a whiff of understanding. Stretching, he puts his shirt on and catches him staring. ¡°Do I have something on me? You wanna confess something?¡± ¡°Just get ready.¡± Geurk scratches at the stubble on his chin. Gathering what little he has. His small collection of shirts. His bag with essentials and a few keepsakes. He accidentally dropped a small notebook that was nestled inside. Jumping. Scrambling to get it back in. Leto still stands and stares. Finally, he¡¯s all set. ¡°Ready?¡± ¡°I think so? What¡¯s happening? Are we going on a field trip or something?¡± ¡°No. The Office called. They told me about your training. Something you have never mentioned to me. Once. I told them that you were struggling to get a job and they said it¡¯s because you¡¯re going to be a lifter.¡± Leto hisses the words out, his voice raised. Geurk immediately knew his fate. ¡°Do you know what a Lifter is Lough? What they do to people?¡± ¡°It¡¯s training Leto. Literally not a job.¡± ¡°But you still lied about it. Why? I¡¯ve been worrying about you for months and you said you were trying! I thought all those hours away were job hunting. I should¡¯ve known better.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard about what the damn job is. This is exactly why I didn¡¯t tell you, man. Because you¡¯d freak out!¡± ¡°Freak out?? This is freaking out to you? Oh, you Crow. I¡¯ve been concerned about you! I let you stay in my house!¡± ¡°Well, you know now. What are you going to do? Just kick me out to the Office? Didn¡¯t you get me just because you were lonely? Just get another Myokan! Since I¡¯m so bad!¡± Leto lets out a sigh and runs a stressed hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re not bad¡­ Geurk. Just. I don¡¯t think I can support the two of us anymore. So. Y-yeah. You can¡¯t stay anymore. And you lied to me from the start. I can¡¯t trust you. Especially if you¡¯re a lifter.¡± The bell outside rings again. Geurks face is monotone, emotionless. ¡°We can still stay in contact- you¡¯re a good friend. I-¡° ¡°No. Fine. I¡¯ll go.¡± Geurks mentor did say this, long before he took the apprenticeship. People would hate him, he¡¯d be alienated due to this work. But it¡¯s important. The city needs lifters, Lisko the continent needs them for security. He just thought back then he¡¯d be fine with that. That¡¯s how his whole life was, but maybe he could have a purpose now. Leto frowns and tries to hold out a hand to Geurk¡¯s shoulder. He walked past and pushed it to the side. He shakes his head. ¡°You don¡¯t need to call me. I don¡¯t need your pity.¡± Closing the front door behind him, he accidentally makes it louder than it needed to be. Reverberating the sound across the entire apartment hallway. Not looking back he goes past all the idol banners. All the shoddy doors and outside into the gray pale day. He thanked whoever for how little he had. The Office can wait, he needs to go south and find a speakeasy. He needs to forget. He yearns for the numbness and the meaningless mumbles. As he goes down to the border he¡¯s reminded of his days in the Blue district. All the long nights of drinking. With all the stupid things he did when he was younger, he can still feel the raised scars and aches from those escapades. Maybe he can relive the glory days for one more night. As a treat, he deserved it. The Office The Office, the coastal cities government building. Housing Myokans trying to find a home for the Housing Progress. It¡¯s the tallest building in the entire city. Spanning 10 floors. It is one of the most technologically advanced places on the continent. Made of brick and the iconic redwood Lisko is known for. Dishes and towers all line the top of the building. Radios, TVs, even cameras. Very rare among average citizens of the city. It¡¯s said they even have TVs with color in the highest Offices. All radio stations for the area are also out of the Office. Occasionally with special guests and events that encourage people to the building. Early morning Myokans all from the border wait on the fences of the building. Most will probably have to live at the Offices until someone volunteers to house them. They¡¯re not even supposed to get jobs at that time due to possible moving difficulties. Some Myokans are even put far west in the rural farms, some even in traditional Nomad villages. Ones with no technology whatsoever. Geurk now sits with those fortunate souls. Passed out, face leaning onto the wired fence. Last night had treated him terribly. His dark hair is all disheveled, more than usual, and he has deep bags under his eyes. He softly snores into the metal, clutching his bag close to him. Some sleep the same near him, a few awake and sitting. Staring at the closed ornate door that would decide their fates. It was ironically decorated with flowers and clouds. The carvings were quite impressive, commissioned by a famous Lisk carpenter from the west. Though now people only stare in spite. Suddenly a bell rang, reverberating throughout the city square. Through staticky megaphones, a voice is heard, ¡°It is now 7 am. The doors will open till midday. Thank you, please keep all your belongings in sight.¡± Many wake to the boom of sound. Murmuring and sighing at the interruption. The sun greets them through scattered leaves and shawls, and the tall trees around the whole area keep it cool. They all quickly get into line, albeit messily and disjointed. Geurk still soundly sleeps with his jacket as a blanket. Suddenly though a hand shakes him awake. He jumps and almost slaps the man who leans over him, but he recognizes his mentor immediately. Hugo. A Nukkan who worked at the Office. A larger man who was pale, as all Nukkans were. Dark short hair slicked back so you could easily see his thick glasses. He wore a button-up with a sweater, patterned with holiday shapes and snowflakes. It was still winter after all, despite the now nice weather. Around his neck was an ID card attached to a lanyard, showing a BD pass. Geurk cringes as the pass sways near his face. Hugo speaks in his soft voice, ¡°Good morning Lough. I heard about your change.¡± Geurk blinks a few more times, rubbing his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that man. But yeah, the guy couldn¡¯t take care of me or something.¡± ¡°Yes. That¡¯s what we heard. Would you rather be called by your middle name? We have formalities.¡± ¡°Geurk. Call me Geurk, How long have I known you, man?¡± Geurk chuckles and stands up, feeling his bare feet on the brick walkways outlining the building. Freezing and clutching his jacket around himself. Though Hugo chuckles back. ¡°For quite a while now. You are my apprentice after all. Alright, I¡¯m sure the higher-ups won¡¯t mind.¡± They follow behind the others in line. Hearing the click of a small desk bell over and over. Hugo just smiles softly, waiting. Geurk taps his foot and fumbles with his bag, yawning intermittently. They finally enter the building, it warmer than the breeze outside. A small fire crackles in the waiting area. Everything seems quite old and ornate. Detailed chairs settle around the space, with complex fabric to boot. Lisk paintings line the walls, with the iconic soft swooshing style. Along with the warmer colors and stylized settings. Lisks never did favor the realism that Nukkans praised. To the side is a small desk, with a shorter woman looking down at her mountains of papers. Thin and white sheets at that, something rare in most areas. She looks up, her freckled face smiling back at the two. She had her long curly hair tied back in a loose green bow. Hugo smiles wide at her and says, ¡°Cally, we¡¯re just here to go up to my office. I have mine here. We just need to discuss a few things.¡± ¡°Sure thing Mr. Sibbern. The door will be open for you.¡± Her voice was high and happy, it must''ve been a good morning for her. Geurk squints at her tone, following his mentor to the building''s shoddy elevator. It squeaks and creaks as they stand in it. Hugo clicks floor 8. He then starts to happily hum, his back straight with his hands behind his back. Versus Geurk with his head between his shoulders, leaning over himself. ¡°Leto also mentioned how you didn¡¯t speak of your training.¡± Hugo lets out over the screeching of the elevator. ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t.¡± A moment passes as the elevator jerks to a halt, suddenly the sound of typing and clicks floods the floor. The door opening to the main work part of the offices, paperwork. Geurk looks around at the faces of people in their cubicles, tired and glazed. Hugo starts to drag him to a familiar office at the end of the large room. A lovely door with the name ¡°Hugo Sibbern¡± printed onto paper. ¡°Well, I¡¯m surprised. Most enjoy talking about the opportunity.¡± Another door opens into Hugo¡¯s office. It¡¯s dark and spotless. All the papers were in the right place, the desk looked brand new, and his radio was white. It was one of the newer ones, able to go to very high frequencies. Those are only used by lifters. Sitting down on the small chair across from the desk, Geurk sighs as he drops his things. ¡°Isn¡¯t this whole gig despised by everyone?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Well yes. But it¡¯s important. I¡¯m proud of you¡­ Geurk. Many that we train boast it all the way down to the border.¡± ¡°Well, thanks? I wouldn¡¯t want anyone knowing I¡¯m stealing their information.¡± Hugo sighs, ¡°That¡¯s not what the position is for Geurk. Do you still have your radio?¡± Geurk scrambles to his bag, taking out a small radio and a headset. One that¡¯s seen better days. He sets them on the desk. ¡°Ah¡­ does it still work?¡± ¡°Yeah don¡¯t worry, man. I just dropped it a few times.¡± ¡°¡­did you paint it purple?¡± ¡°Oh! Yeah man! It fits my whole gig. It¡¯s just spray paint.¡± ¡°No wonder your transmissions have been rough.¡± Geurks whole outfit was shades of purple. He¡¯s committed to it for the last few years. Monochromatic anything was easy, and he thought he looked good so he didn¡¯t care. Everything revolves around his old high school letterman, a lilac thing with many light blue patches speckled around it. Including his BD pass. Hugo sighs and picks up the configuration. It did seem alright. He turned on the radio, unplugging the headset. It fuzzed to life, distant voices could be heard. He sets it to the Lift free talk frequency. 111.1. Much of the transmissions were mainly Morse code, but there was a voice. One Geurk didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Burherry town, 642, anyone around to talk? I come with information Tango.¡± Hugo nods and comments, ¡°Well, it can receive well. Why don¡¯t you talk to them, Lough?¡± Geurk gives him a glance, an expression that shows really? He sighs and takes the radio from him. Clicking a button on the top of it to transmit. ¡°642, this is Papa 7 Lima, Tango heard. What¡¯s it about?¡± A moment of static silence. Geurk leans his elbow onto the desk, lazing his hands on a few papers. But then the voice calls again. ¡°Papa 7 Lima, 642, I¡¯ll be changing frequencies soon. Calico is in position and I have yet to identify who they¡¯re with. Are you catching me?¡± Geurk chuckles, though Hugo looks skeptical. He cocks his head, suddenly realizing it¡¯s some sort of Myokan inside joke. 642 must¡¯ve recognized Geurks accent. To us, it¡¯d be sort of northeast United States. ¡°Oh, 642, I hear you loud and clear. What¡¯s the coat?¡± Hugo jumps. ¡°Are- you two talking about some woman on a restricted frequency? That¡¯s immature Lough. Please keep it off air-¡° ¡°C''mon Hughs let me have some fun. I¡¯ve been stressed lately.¡± ¡°Sure¡­ just. Not in my office please.¡± The radio suddenly beeps with Morse code, and someone takes up space. Only one person can talk at a time on the radio. Geurk sighs but smirks at the Nukkan. ¡°¡­the bird can wait I guess.¡± He waits till the morse stops to transmit back. ¡°642, sorry man. Mentors got a stick up his ass. Will report later to Burherry town. Clear.¡± Hugo sighs, immediately turning the radio off in Geurk¡¯s hand. Staring at him with a small frown. ¡°Lough, please. That¡¯s a terrible thing to say. Can you just have a moment where you don¡¯t swear on professional frequencies?¡± ¡°I can say a lot worse man. Fine though, I¡¯ll work on it. When I¡¯m out of here and not working with you I¡¯ll figure it out.¡± ¡°Do you promise that? Violations are a big-¡° ¡°I¡¯m not some kid Hugo. I¡¯m a grown-ass man.¡± Hugo¡¯s frown changes into a small smile, him chuckling. ¡°Fine. We can finally discuss why I¡¯ve brought you up here then.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t just a radio check?¡± The swivel of Hugo¡¯s chair rings in the room. He scoots back to one of his many file cabinets. Sifting through the papers, one thick file is picked out. It plops right down onto the desk. Coming with a loud Fwomp. ¡°Well a check was in order, I¡¯m just here to find you a new housemate!¡± ¡°Can¡¯t I stay in the office for like a week? It¡¯d be, uh, nice to just not worry about that.¡± A hand taps on the wood, the only sound besides the clicking from the outside. ¡°I understand that, but you are first in line for the volunteering due to your training. And unfortunately, you do have to stay in the city.¡± Geurk hums annoyed. ¡°And Lough, we can find someone who¡¯ll be a good match for you. I trust I can know somewhat what you¡¯d like.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not gonna date them or something. Can''t you just get any quiet guy and put me with em¡¯? Or a bird? Or keep Leto on standby?¡± ¡°You know what I mean. And women are less likely to be a part of this. It''s important for you and the volunteer. They don¡¯t have to lend their house out to those in the program but they do. And I think I already have a match for you.¡± ¡°Really? It¡¯s only been like a day-¡° ¡°Well he volunteered yesterday, he is very nice. I guarantee you two will get along fine.¡± Taking out a paper from the file he puts it down in front of Geurk. A picture of a smiling Lisk man greets him. Mid-length curly hair and a dorky smile. He wears the earrings that nomads do. Known for their devotion to old Lisk mythos and culture. Sporting an orange flowered button-up and a peasant shirt. He doesn¡¯t look worrisome at all, but Geurk squints. ¡°Some nomad?¡± ¡°Yes, Lough. He came from the west, he¡¯s traditional.¡± ¡°Oh. Are you sure I can¡¯t take the week at the office?¡± ¡°Geurk, this¡¯ll be good for you. I know you are not very knowledgeable on these things. And from what I could tell you two would get along fine.¡± ¡°Can I think on it?¡± ¡°I can only give you 24 hours before you have to wait in line. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Geurk crosses his arms while leaning back in the chair. He was thankfully one of the first to get into the Housing Progress. Unfortunately, the line took even a few weeks to get through. The office does have nice amenities. Even a few showers, which was rare. But it was like a dormitory, with small rooms, and thin walls. And nothing like the Myokan¡¯s homes in the South. It was quiet at night and dark. Most were stuck in the building with not much to do. Geurk mumbles, ¡°I¡¯ll take that time. Tell me more about him.¡± ¡°Here, take his file. Maybe go meet him, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll understand. He¡¯s northwest near the markets. He sells his plants, quite the worker.¡± Geurk sits up, grabs the papers, and shoves them into his bag. He waves nonchalantly to Hugo, him smiling back and settling the file back in its perfect little space. He¡¯s greeted again by the clacking and writing of the office. Looking at the people''s faces again with reverence. Thinking that maybe if he stays here too long his energy will drain like theirs. Though he bets they all deny their stresses. God knows he does. Waiting for the squeaky elevator is numbing as well. Another person stands next to him, a radio headset on their head. He could tell it was low frequency, less wires, and choking hazards. All they do is hum as the door opens and both of them plan to go to the first floor. He makes his way outside the office before midday. When their doors close for a short time. It''s surprisingly nice outside. A small breeze and clear skies. The sun is warming up everything. Where in the shade it¡¯s nice and cool. He finally decides to read the paper. In flowery fancy handwriting, there¡¯s only the volunteer''s first name. Hasse. Terrain Hasse stared at the traditional calendar on the shelf. It was printed in expensive colored ink, with pictures from someone who maybe set the brightness too high. Giving the images a dreamlike quality. It¡¯s thick with paper, as Lisk months are longer than an average system. He considers it though, he does need a planner. The market was crowded today, it was the weekend after all. Approaching the festival for the start of spring. Where plants in terrain all bloom and a storm of seeds would fly across the continent. Nomads under all idols would celebrate, though Hasse hasn¡¯t celebrated in a few moons. Sounds of the market ring in the small shop, bells and voices. From all accents and tones. He smiled at the thought, he always saw new faces, ¡°Looking at the calendar?¡± The clerk looked over at him, smiling wide. Them already wearing traditional garb for the festival. Sporting nomad earrings, like Hasse. ¡°Yes, uh. I¡¯ve never seen one with such detail. How¡¯d you make it?¡± ¡°I get em¡¯ shipped in from Nukka. It¡¯s a new printing process they¡¯re using. Those are actual pictures! We put the color in ourselves.¡± Flipping through the pages the paper is rough like canvas. Thick with the dye almost bleeding through the page. Hasse hums, ¡°That¡¯s new. I do need a planner. How much?¡± ¡°For you?¡± They chuckle, ¡°20 coin.¡± Hasse fishes through his older side bag, it clinking with the small brass coins. Shiny and new. Etched with snowflakes and flowers. The symbols of the Coastal City¡¯s union. ¡°Here, did you take these pictures?¡± The clerk happily takes the currency. ¡°Yes, I did! I haven¡¯t been a photographer for long. New to the printer too.¡± The two chuckle, Hasse nodding as he pays. The calendar was heavy in his hands, not even able to fit it into his side bag, ¡°Well you¡¯re already on your way, they look wonderful. Happy fethvin.¡± ¡°Happy fethvin. Blessed be!¡± Hasse waves bye, continuing into the bustle of people. Walking past food stands, waving at rug vendors, greeting carpenters. Hasse smiled at familiar faces and grinned at new ones. Helping lost tourists on their way to the office or historical centers. After filling his bag with groceries he finally escapes the market. Despite loving it, he can only take so much. He could sometimes still hear the many bells in his dreams, and it often got so populated it sounded like a stadium. With so many voices and conversations. He found himself sometimes trying to block it out when he got overwhelmed. That¡¯s why he¡¯s glad his small booth was on the outskirts. A quaint small place, only about the size of a cart. He won¡¯t be opening it for today, but he might as well check on the plants. Hasse recently planted a few marigolds, ones that were quite slow to show their colors. But after taking down the small screen he used to protect them they happily beamed towards him. Little orange pods, still shy to show their true faces. He chuckled, ¡°Hello, good afternoon.¡± He smiled at them, quiet. As if he was listening for an answer from it, ¡°alright. I¡¯ll feed all of you and then head home. You can take a break from people for another day.¡± He leans down to grab a bucket. Empty. Hasse taps himself on the head. Humming in annoyance at his mistake. Always leaving it out to evaporate. ¡°You¡¯ll have to wait a little longer.¡± He says to deaf ears, tapping the marigolds. Setting his things down and zipping up the screen again. He¡¯ll have to go out to the market again to fish up some water from the square fountain. Despite the coast being so close he could never imagine trying to filter the water. Only a few people have tried, but all methods just seemed too expensive. Especially when more conservative Lisks feared the ocean, enough to not even set foot in the sand. Back in the market, it¡¯s thankfully less crowded, most people probably go back home for lunch. Hasse now quickly tries to make his way unnoticed. Waving hastily to any who notice him. The fountain was quite large. Specifically made for people to collect fresh water, with someone paid to always monitor it. Water was always a touchy subject for the city. It¡¯s almost on a peninsula surrounded by sea after all. With only a small sliver of land connecting it to the continent south. Water was a precious resource, despite how the city¡¯s residents didn¡¯t really seem to incentivize it. Occasionally there are limits on how much one can take, but they¡¯re always loose. Lisks are a culture that respects rules after all. But after the housing progress, the rules became stricter. Now though there was no worry as Hasse filled the bucket. Slowly making his way back to not spill any. Letting out a sigh as no one greeted him on the journey back. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± The screen was zipped open once more. The rainbow of flowers perked up to greet him. The bucket was set down and a cup was filled. Each pot gets their own drinks, all equal to get their fill. Hasse leaned over to get to the back row of pots, the succulents. Ones only found here on the coast. One though, in the far corner, had drops already apparent on the buds. Hasse cocked his head, perhaps someone has been watering his plants before him. He shakes it off and closes the stall. Gathering his things to head home. Onto the cobblestone streets, into the quieter part of the city. He had lived deeper into the maze, north near the woods. A familiar environment, like he was back at his old home. It was a two-story apartment. Modeling more Nukkan-type architecture. With detailed wood decals and supports surrounding the whole building. Looking like it would survive any storm thrown its way. It was made mainly out of redwood. Camouflaged within the woods, even the roof mirrored the dark green leaves of the forest. But when Hasse arrived he was met with something unfamiliar. A Myokan man, he could tell by his dark hair and tanned skin, smoking. Looking down at a book directly beside his door. The smoke from a shortened cigarette in his hand wafted away. Dissipating into the warm air. Hasse¡¯s brows furrowed as he spoke, clutching his bag closer to himself, ¡°Sir, are you waiting for something?¡± The man looked over at him blankly, his eyes tired. His voice was equally as exhausted, ¡°You Hasse?¡± ¡°Yes? Oh! Are you Geurk?¡± The man chuckled, ¡°Yep. You remember my name.¡± ¡°Of course, why wouldn¡¯t I? I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be here-¡° ¡°Yeah. I came over to see the place.¡± Hasse¡¯s shoulders become less tense, and he grabs out a key, ¡°Well I didn¡¯t expect you so early, I¡¯m sorry. The place is a bit messy now.¡± Geurk is quiet as the door is open. He dodges the hanging plants and chimes. Smiling at the twinkling noise. A few traditional nomad banners were hung too. Representing the Nomad mythos¡¯ gods, called Idols. The moon and sun. Ones of lizards and spiders. Vibrant threads, thin enough for the sun to come through and shine a rainbow of colors onto the walls, like fabric stain glass. Despite what the gardener said his space was spotless. Only a few books spread out on a small coffee table. Geurk cringed as he saw Nomad style seats next to the table. Having to sit cross-legged or on your knees to even be comfortable at the table. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. Would you like anything?¡± Hasse set down his things and immediately grabbed at Geurks bag. ¡°Hey! Katze- what¡¯re you doing?¡± ¡°I was just¡­ you can put your bag down-¡° Geurk stares, the air quiet between them. Making the other man nervously play with his shirt. ¡°Just, where am I going to sleep?¡± ¡°I was, uh, still setting the guest room up. So, you could have it? It¡¯s still messy though.¡± ¡°Uh, huh. And this place is a pigsty.¡± The bag is dropped onto the table, making a crunching noise. Geurk though just stretches his arms and yawns. Collapsing onto the low couch, not even a few inches off the ground. Despite the height though he nuzzled into the cushion. Smelling of sheep wool, he sighs. Hasse smiles, going around to the kitchen nearby. Thankfully its counters were the proper height. Clinks against the stone counters were all Geurk heard. Even now he remembers Leto¡¯s background music. The smell of his dinners and the dim light he always had on in the background. He¡¯ll never admit it, but he missed its simplicity. ¡°Geurk? Hey, can I ask you something?¡± A voice calls, its owner hidden behind the counter. ¡°Shoot me.¡± ¡°What does your name mean?¡± A creak, sitting up on the couch Geurk tries to spot the hidden man. Seeing only his curly hair behind a cacophony of plants. ¡°Well, I just met you, man. What type of question is that?¡± ¡°Small talk. It¡¯s what people first know about you. It¡¯s pretty important.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡± Hasse¡¯s face pokes up above the plants, he struggles as he¡¯s on his toes, ¡°nothing? Really? Geurk it has to mean something!¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°Well, what does it mean to you?¡± Geurk chuckles, looking over at the Lisk dumbly. A smirk on his face and arms behind his head. ¡°You want an honest review? Like some sort of deep poem by a hippie? I¡¯ll list, I¡¯m a man who¡¯s just been getting by. Going out, crying, shagging, once in a while you break your nose. But, I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m just living.¡± The clinks stop. Hasse¡¯s soft steps come over. A worried expression pointed at Geurk¡¯s smirk. Putting his hands on his hips, Hasse looked more like a disappointed mother than ¡°Geurk. That¡­ sounds terrible.¡± ¡°Well, you asked? What¡¯s your name about? Hasse?¡± He shakes his head and sits across from Geurk. Sitting all too formal, even his elbows hover away from the table. ¡°I¡¯m named after Tasse. The idol of gifts.¡± ¡°You¡­ we¡¯re being literal. Uh-huh. I gave a list man. Give yours.¡± ¡°Oh, uh. Sorry. Let¡¯s see.¡± staring at Hasse¡¯s golden earrings, Geurk hums. Like Opal, all sorts of colors reflected off of them. ¡°I¡¯m a man too, I garden. I sell plants down at the market. I have a dog, Whiskr. He¡¯s out at the-¡° ¡°I don¡¯t need to know every detail man. Just like a summary.¡± ¡°Right. I¡¯m a man, I just get by too. I go out about the town. I attend festivals. I pray. I miss. I cry too. I scrape my knees. I¡¯m just. Hey, I¡¯m living too.¡± Hasse chuckles, it¡¯s sweet. Making Geurk smile. ¡°Aren¡¯t we all?¡± Geurk suddenly scratches his stubble, ¡°Festivals? Like the ones with the masks n¡¯ all?¡± ¡°Yes! Actors! I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t know. I thought your last roommate was Lisk.¡± ¡°He was from the city, and definitely was no Nomad.¡± ¡°Aheh, yeah. I go out west for the spring sometimes. But now you¡¯re here.¡± ¡°And? Don¡¯t trust me to stay at your place for a month?¡± Hasse gave him a look. Eyebrow raised, arms crossed. Even shaking his head. ¡°Really?? Not even!?¡± ¡°Yes, not even. You haven¡¯t even signed for you to be here officially.¡± Taking off his jacket, Geurk stretches his back. Cracking bubbles, smiling as Hasse cringes his way. Taking off his belt, throwing everything to the ground next to him. ¡°Tomorrow.¡± ¡°Alright, is that¡­ really necessary?¡± Suddenly a white shirt is thrown onto Hasse¡¯s face. Falling onto his lap as Hasse coughs at the overwhelming smell of a basic body spray, even tasting it. He almost has the urge to throw it back, but just sighs. Throwing it aside as Geurk¡¯s laugh echoes in the house. ¡°Woah? I smell that bad?¡± ¡°Uh, no¡­ no. Just sleep. I normally wake up early.¡± ¡°Mhm. And I need my beauty sleep.¡± Hasse turns off the lights and leaves his new roommate for the night. Closing the door, he sighed, massaging his temple. He¡¯ll help this man. Hasse sits at the edge of his bed and swears on it. Looking out the window to the moon, he saw a small cloud passing by, the light winking down at him.