Relik sat on a stool that from a glance looked as though it was one more occupant away from collapse.
On top of maintaining his balance to ensure he didn't gamble any of his social standing. He had his cloak tightly clutched in one hand and his free meal in the next.
This meal being a skewer of a grilled tentacled creature, with more appendages than Relik had hair. That and he was sure that it was still half alive. His main reason being that it seemed to move anytime he looked away.
To distract himself from the discomfort of his sitting situation, he cast his attention out for anything that could grab it.
It didn't take long before his mind had drifted from the architecture to the fact that there was a traitor among these very people. All of them in this sentient mass of controlled chaos, it made him uncomfortable.
Sure he grew up with a smaller population of people, where everyone was at least cordial. In Rému everyone seemed to have infinitely more important places to be than where they were right now.
Being raised in a Temple, he was taught that the marked had a silent connection with each other. However, this is the only time he could think about it being used to avoid each other.
Not that his village had enough people that this method would have appeared.
That was at least one benefit of living on the countryside.
Though watching them provided entertainment value, Relik needed to get his information to an official. He knew that only the council of the Shiear could help.
Instead, he had Wyva.
The Hand who had spent the last hour "monitoring" Relik by dragging him on a rooftop tour of Remu's most questionable areas. Wyva didn't to care about the urgency of the situation and obviously cared a lot less about his job.
The only signs of interest from the Alven came when they were in search of the cheaper meal. That seemed to put light in his eyes.
So much so that they eventually found a stall where they could both eat for free. An Alven chef, who was missing both the left ear and eye. Upon further inspection he was also missing several digits on his left hand.
Classic markings of an overcooked boltgun. Thankfully he survived. Usually, the results were far less favourable.
"You could have left me in the lobby," Relik muttered, eyeing a group of street performers who looked like they were one bad tip away from a riot, "The meeting with that girl couldn't have taken this long."
Wyva adjusted his balaclava, pulling it down to his chin to reveal a face that looked aggressively tired. He shoveled a spoonful of grain into his mouth with the mechanical efficiency of a man who had forgotten what joy tasted like.
"First rule of the Temple, Kid 'Just a few minutes' is clerical code for 'I'm going to go have a nap and hope you forget about me.' Besides," Wyva gestured vaguely at the bustling city square, "you smelled like river and carrion. I'm doing the Shiear a favor by letting the wind and dust scrub you a bit."
"First of all, we're the same age stop calling me kid and second, where I'm from that's not the case. The people take precedent in our Temple."
"Where you're from clean running water isn't available when it rains. And I'm nineteen, that's an entire two years older than you."
Relik scowled, looking at the children on the corner. One was currently eyeing his squid with the intensity of a starving wolf. "We have food. They don't. How can everyone just... walk past?"
"Don't stare," Wyva warned, not looking up from his bowl. "He's standing in the best position to be seen. First, you pity them, then they invite themselves over. Next thing you know you're being jumped by a posse of minors with all Kind of Iké driven robbing techniques."
"But—"
"Listen," Wyva interrupted, pointing his spoon at Relik's chest. "I'm from Remu. That means I have years of experience dealing with this 'adaptive chaos.' You're from... where was it? The Mountain of Wine?"
"The Von Vino Estate," Relik corrected loftily. "Where the people actually help each other."
"Right. Very quaint. When we're in a village that smells like fermented grapes and brotherly love, you can take the lead. But here? Do something stupid and it's more paperwork for me. Now eat your squid before a hobo steals it."
Relik opened his mouth to argue, realized Wyva was already halfway through his second bowl, and decided silence was the only winning move. He took a bite of the squid. It was rubbery, spicy, and tasted faintly charcoal-like.
"What did I just tell you?" Wyva asked, noticing Relik's wandering eyes.
"Eat before a hobo steals it," Relik droned.
"Exactly. You haven't eaten for at least a week. If you faint in front of Jabaani, she'll think I've been starving you, and I'm not losing my dental plan because you wanted to be a martyr for a street urchin."
Relik nodded, chewing slowly. He looked at the rushing crowd, the Alven scholars, the towering Hurc laborers, the Shahari merchants. Everyone was moving with "unyielding tunnel vision."
Something was wrong. It wasn't just the lack of community; it was the vibe. Remu felt like a beautiful clock where half the gears were made of glass.
"I just want to tell them," Relik said quietly. "About the traitor. About the green eyes. Once I provide the account, I'll feel as though I vindicated them... All twenty-two of them."
Wyva paused, his spoon hovering near his mouth. He looked at Relik, and for a split second, the cynical mask slipped. There was a flash of something like pity in the Alven teens' eyes.
"Kid," Wyva said softly. "Everyone in that Temple believes that their Marks are perfect. They think if someone breathed a word of treason, Astra would personally smite them. Telling them there's a traitor is like telling a fish it's wet. They won't believe you because they can't imagine a world where it isn't true."
He snapped his mask back up, the "Hand" returning in full force.
"Finish the squid. Jabaani is expecting us, and I'd rather face a Shink-Ra Titan than to leave that mad woman waiting."