“That’s why we’re so careful about nature here.” Okeria chimed in, much to Jun’s repeated chagrin. “I said we have plenty of plants and animals, but most of them are freakish things that managed to survive whatever happened to our home. The needlemaws are a perfect example of that. Back on Sotrien we had to keep as many animals alive as we could, since everything was out to kill everything else.”

“That’s why I was so put out when we killed the eel.” Jun said, gesturing at my eel-bone armor for emphasis. “There are a few animals we managed to breed into comfort, but most of the ones back home are still really endangered. Not counting the parasites and pests like the needlemaws, of course.”

Jun waited for Okeria to interrupt her again, but he just signaled for her to keep going. “Okay. Well, that’s pretty much the entire story of how our people came to be. We built the seven cities, made them as safe as we could for everyone, and that’s it. I’m from Deicid, the biggest of all the cities, and from his accent I’m guessing Okeria is from Prener. Or one of the underground offshoots near it.”

“You’re right.” Okeria confirmed with a nod. “Born in Prener proper, and lived in Root D-11 until I was sent here at twenty-three.”

Jun and Okeria shared a moment of almost comfort, as if they were closer to home now than they ever were. “Are there only seven cities?” I asked when the moment went on for a little too long. “That seems like way too few.”

“Well, compared to this place, yeah. It is.” Okeria agreed. “We couldn’t spread out back home, so we built up and down. Up ta the flower districts, and down ta the root districts. No point in spreading out when none of the soil could grow anything we could eat.”

“But you could’ve put more water collection out there.” I pointed out. “Why put it just over the cities instead of everywhere?”

“No need.” Okeria said with a shrug. “We don’t need a lot of water to live, not like some of the animals back home, so we still have a surplus just from what we take. Everyone born on this world, though… they don’t get it. They never experienced life on Sotrien, so they don’t have the same sort of values Juniper and I do. Because, well, they never had ta go a month on water rations because the storms didn’t shift right. Never had ta choose between the drink that keeps ya alive and cleaning a wound that might kill ya.”

Okeria clasped his hands in his lap and shook his head. “I’ve never met a Staura who was born here that prays ta Thraiv. They take the fresh water here for granted, and Rainbow Basin’s suffering for it. But you’ll see what I mean when we get there, so I’ll get back on track here. Things ya need ta do ta pass as a Staura.”

“Wait. You said that a quarter of your planet’s completely destroyed? And that it’s leaking rocks into the atmosphere?” I asked incredulously. “How’s that even possible? Wouldn’t the rest of the planet break apart if a quarter of it already did?”

“The gods hold it together.” Jun said in a strange tone. Almost like she was repeating something someone else had told her a long time ago. “If they ever disappeared, Sotrien would disappear too.”

That wasn’t a satisfying explanation, but it also felt like the only one that could make sense. “Ookay then. Sorry for interrupting.”

“Now’s the best time ta ask questions, so don’t apologize for it. But when ya get into Staura society, ya can’t go around asking that stuff. That’s a real quick tell that you’re not one of us.” Okeria warned. “First we gotta choose a god for ya ta pray to. I wouldn’t go with Thraiv, since ya’d have ta pray every night for a few weeks, and forgetting even once could out ya as an outsider. And I wouldn’t choose Moricla either, since having two people who pray ta her together would draw a little more attention than I’d like. Especially since one of ya is a Keratily.”

I felt the bench shift beneath me, and turned to see Jun’s posture suddenly shift to become very aggressive. “What does being a Keratily have to do with anything?” I asked, then immediately regretted my choice.

“Absolutely nothing.” Jun ground out, as if the words needed to be crushed instead of spoken. “My family has nothing to do with this.”

“Hey, it’s not what you’re thinking. Keratily holds a different sort of weight here, since we’ve got the original tending to the temple of Moricla in Rainbow Basin.” Okeria said carefully, trying to disarm Jun’s strange anger. “I’m not gonna bring that prejudice here, since I bet you’ve had more than you fill back home. And you’ve found a friend who doesn’t care, haven’t ya?”

“The original.” Jun muttered. “You mean… the woman back there… my rootia…”

Okeria nodded.

Jun relaxed in posture, but it felt artificial. “I need to talk to her. About a lot.”

“Give her a few hours and she’ll join us. Ya can talk then.” Okeria said gently. “But Juniper… she isn’t responsible for what your family did.”

“Does.” Juniper harshly corrected. “They haven’t stopped since you left.”

Okeria didn’t have a response to that, and the tension in the air stagnated in the silence that followed. I looked between the two Staura a few times before sighing and leaning back, closing my eyes and calling for the copperbound armor to replace the broken pieces of eel-bone armor that I was still wearing for some reason. That drew Okeria’s attention; he looked me up and down once, then swiped a hand nonchalantly through the air. He was marking something down on his interface.

“I think Llo might be a good fit for ya. He’s the god of cut stones, and his prayers are easy and private. All we gotta do is get ya a piece of jewelry that ya can wear on one wrist.” Okeria suggested. “I’m something of a craftsman myself, so if we can find something in this hazard, then I’ll whip up a simple bracelet that ya can equip as a trinket. Unless I find something better, then maybe I could make a whole arm lattice that’d mark ya as a high priest…”

That sounded like a terrible idea. Masquerading as a high priest of a god I knew nothing about would be nothing but dangerous. “Isn’t that completely against the point of me blending in?”

“Oh. Right.” Okeria said with a hint of dejection in his voice. “I got ahead of myself there. So miss Keratily; do ya think Llo fits your friend here?”

“Llo is… fine.” Jun said after considering for a moment. The tension bled away just a little as she looked me over, tilting her head to the side in thought. “But he just doesn’t fit Seb. He wouldn’t worship a god of strength and artistry like Llo.”

I frowned under my helmet. Was that an insult?

“Well then, miss, who do you think fits our human friend?” Okeria asked. “Paleobur?”

Jun vigorously shook her head and laughed. “I don’t think Seb would worship the goddess of ancient history. He seems a little too future-minded for that. No; I think Vedevedev is better for him.”

“Uh… are ya sure? Vedevedev isn’t exactly the most… ya know…” Okeria clicked his tongue and shook his head. “She isn’t the most loved god we’ve got.”

“I don’t know.” Jun turned to look at me, then nodded to herself. “I think tragedy and moving on is the perfect fit for Seb.”

Once Jun had her mind set on which god I would worship, there wasn’t much of a discussion left to be had. The two Staura drilled all of the god’s history and how to worship her into me over the next few dozen minutes, until they were satisfied that I could pass as someone who’d just recently converted to mainly worshiping Vedevedev.

The minutiae of the god’s story was completely lost on me, since they used locations and names that I didn’t know, but I did get a good grasp of the most important part; the prayer. Vedevedev worshippers prayed once every eight days at the sites of major tragedies, of which there were plenty in the all-world. I was to go to the site alone, sit at the foot of the memorial that was dedicated to the tragedy, and meditate. They specifically told me not to wear mourning clothes, which were flowing white clothes stained red wherever they touched the ground, as that would count as worshiping a different god that neither Jun nor Okeria could tell me the name of.

Instead, Okeria told me to specifically wear my armor. It was apparently symbolic of fighting to prevent anything like that tragedy from ever happening again, and the way that I set my hands in meditation needed to differ based on what had happened at the site I was praying under. I pressed my closed fists together at the knuckles for a natural disaster, held the back of my hands with open palms against my thighs for a massacre, and laced my fingers together while holding my palms against my chest for a famine. There were others for things like plagues and droughts, but Okeria assured me that Rainbow Basin only had memorials to those three specific disasters.

It didn’t feel like it was enough, but both Jun and Okeria were happy with that small amount of worship. It was acting like a Staura who was fresh to this world that they were worried about.

“He needs to be more excited when it rains.” Jun said from next to Okeria, nodding to herself while she looked me up and down. “He acts like he has unlimited access to water, which humans do, but we definitely don’t back home.”

“Mmhm, yep.” Okeria agreed. “I’ve seen plenty of new growth come through over the years, and there’s a general sense of wonder and confusion that comes along with them. He’s a little too jaded and used ta this for someone we’re trying ta pass off as new.”

“Don’t forget the fact that all the new Staura are freakishly weak.” I added with a touch of vitriol.

Okeria shrugged helplessly. “Can’t argue with that. We coddle our young a little more than most of the other species, but that’s what happens when ya make somewhere safe. We don’t have ta go out and turn everyone into soldiers, just people who know how to survive.”

//THEY MIGHT HAVE TO BREED SOLDIERS ONCE MORE IF WHAT IS BREWING COMES TO PASS.

//A GENERATION OF SOFTNESS MAKES FOR AN EXTREMELY TEMPTING TARGET.

I silently agreed with The End’s words, but didn’t vocalize its inclusion. Okeria had to already know, and I didn’t want to make Jun worry about everyone that she’d trained with. Even if she wasn’t on great terms with them, she wouldn’t want to think of everyone she knew becoming cannon fodder for whatever was to come.

“Back on the subject of water, you need to be more careful with what you drink.” Jun said. “We don’t drink a lot; maybe a glass of water once every two days, and any more is only for the rich or the addicted. Seb–”

“No, he’s fine to drink as much as he wants. In fact, it’d be strange if he didn’t.” Okeria interrupted. “Didn’t ya see how much water the new recruits drank?” He shook his head and chuckled. “The only people who drink more than new recruits are the bloated and the rich, and that’s not by much.”

Like a college student from a strict household going on bender after bender from the moment they left home. I probably would have participated in a few of my own if I’d had a few more friends and a lot more free time.

“So act like water’s something sacred, but don’t be afraid to indulge. Got it.” I said with a nod. I was almost feeling up to walking around by this point, but my knees still didn’t like having any pressure on them. “I’ll try to use ‘skies’, ‘abyss’, and ‘drowned’ too instead of my own words.”

Okeria and Jun shared a look, but the sound of something outside cut anything they were about to say short.