Chapter Text
“Um. Are you the ones hunting the Girtab?” It doesn’t show, she doesn’t think, but Nim has half a mind to run away screaming when all seven of the folks at the table turn to look at her. “I was told this was the table.” She’s trying too damn hard.
“Yeah, I think that’s us”, says a Hyur girl looking at her, and Nim is put off by the curtness. She has no idea whether she should say something else, greet everyone, sit down, or just walk away. They’re all still staring.
“Gosh, we have terrible manners. Hi, you’re very welcome to join us, please sit down.” The nerdy looking Miqo’te girl pushes a Miqo’te boy to make space for Nim, and he groans in protest. Nim eyes them both as she sits. Where the girl is pale, with sharp, observant eyes behind a pair of glasses and a generally serious demeanor, he’s a tan, lightly dressed splash of color, leaning back leisurely on the bench, returning the gaze with seemingly no particular intention. “I’m Sleppy, and this here is Mud”, says the Miqo’te girl, and the boy nods.
“Hi”, says another voice from across the table. Nim looks at the Hyur girl. “I am Aria.” She dutifully extends her arm over the drinks to shake hands with Nim.
“My name is Nim”, she responds in kind.
“We’ll have good use of a ranger like you”, Aria says, nodding at the modest bow on Nim’s back. Soon, everyone else has introduced themselves, and Nim knows she’ll forget most of the names immediately. But for now, she drinks the ale she’s offered, and looks around the Carline Canopy, appreciating the grand arches and the stained glass windows that are still new to her.
She mostly keeps to herself until they leave Gridania, only a short excursion away from their objective. Whatever they’re chatting about, she doesn’t get: the constant references to good times with other people, interwoven with talk of other cities, other events, is already too much to keep up with, and she doesn’t want to pry. They all seem to be very good friends, and perhaps she’s just here for this one hunt they needed extra help for. They don’t seem to mind her much, either, at least until the bustle of the city becomes the green, breezy whispers of the Shroud, and she notices someone walking at her pace, staring right into her face.
“‘Sup?”, says Mud with a cheery nod when she finally returns the eye contact.
“Uh. Hey.”
“So you’re new around these parts, I take it?” She smiles. Caught.
“How did you know?”
“You were looking around an awful lot in the tavern, like you haven’t been there much. Just to sleep, I reckon?”
“You reckon correctly, yeah.”
“And the hunt, Mother Miounne put you up to this?” Nim’s head turns so fast her neck complains. “I’m familiar, is all.”
“Alright, no need to rub it in, jeez.” But neither of them is upset. Mud’s mind is elsewhere already, in fact– he has a mind to wave goodbye before jumping off, in true feline fashion, at the silver shimmers floating down the nearby creek. The crew doesn’t stop moving, but about half of them follow the purple haired cat boy, who is already splashing around with a small fish wiggling in his mouth. Looking back at Nim, his toothy grin widens as he brags about his catch, and she decides she likes him.
“So what is this Girtab thing, exactly?” Nim has no idea what exactly she has signed up for, and maybe it isn’t wise to ask five minutes before the hunt begins, but she’d rather die than tell them she’s never hunted anything bigger than a fox. However, nobody bats an eye at the question– she’s preparing her weapon with the same expertise as everyone else, and it’s normal to check in before starting, right?
“So diremite, but big”, says Mud with his hands very wide apart, and half the group rolls their eyes at him. “What? I’m correct!”
“You know diremites, right?” Nim nods at Sleppy. “Imagine the king of diremites. You got antidotes handy? Watch out for that, and for sticky webs. It’s honestly not that bad.”
Nim has fought a diremite exactly twice, so when Mud pats her back, she flinches. He notices, and shoots a look at her, but doesn’t really say anything. He isn’t thinking anything bad about her, and she somehow knows this, but still, she’s insecure.
“So have you fought many of these, then?” she tries to be nonchalant. Mud cracks his knuckles and messes up his purple side bangs one last time before they set off.
“Nah. I killed my first regular diremite yesterday”, he whispers at her, and winks. Nim can’t help herself as she stifles a laugh, watching the Miqo’te catch up to the front of the group and gesture as if he’s the one leading them into the fray. Isn’t he, after all?