Pylo loved her Ship.

But she especially loved Tunie after returning from a long and draining time finagling cargo and contracts with locals. Not to be overly rude, Pylo was sure that locals of all kinds were decent folk. She even entertained she had made some good impressions and ‘friends’ with them. But dealing with locals was exhausting. And although maybe for those terrans she met it was a life defining moment. For Pylo they would simply fade into the past.

Locals were the quintessential contrast of those that traveled and those that did not. Locals were never quite like how Pylo expected them to be Time and distance and simple foreign circumstance always made them different. It was an endless chore to translate, reconsider and get the simple point across.

Every locality was different, so the people found there were different.

But for a traveler, whether trader or pirate, adventurer or soldier.

Locals would always be foreign.

Even if she returned to a port she had once been the time passed will have warped everyone and everything to be somehow new and foreign. It was the quintessential essence of one having locality. The compressed life of a traveler was unmoored from that current. Free and adrift from time, place and history.

Pylo and Tunie were an island. All the rest of the reef drifted and changed around the core of their lives.

Well except for Pylo’s Family of course, but half of them were travelers themselves or close enough too it. And the other half had found other means to escape the changes of time.

So Pylo looked forward to returning to the only home that mattered. And after weathering the shock of another encounter with the bizzareity of locals. And Terrans were currently muscling in to first place for most strange locals yet.

“Ah I missed you Tunie”

“↭”

“Aw you big softie!”