Instead of whatever Verity or Araeneve might have expected to find inside a mirror, they find more greenhouse. At least, that would be a reasonable guess, if not for the lack of an unnatural ceiling. The trunks are few and far between, but there are plants bearing fruits and flowers anywhere not instead occupied by huts or people. There is no sign of any daémons, although they can see a few unfamiliar creatures accompanying people.

Within moments, people stop and look at them. One starts to speak an unfamiliar language, moving in towards the newcomers.

Are they all separated?  Or zombies?  

Araeneve scans the area for a direction to run if this turns dangerous.  

Verity watches the people, trying to figure out why she can't understand what they're saying.  Being from a fleet where all people have spoken the same language for generations, it doesn't immediately occur to her that there could be other languages.  "Where am I?"

The possible zombies speak to each other, which she continues not to understand. Araeneve can see what might constitute an escape route if they leave the walking path and tramples over the grass- there are few places near the buildings from which a Suicune could jump to reach the roof. Otherwise, they are surrounded by people.

One person waves with a smile at Verity, paying no attention to Araeneve, saying something incomprehensible and pointing in the direction of the buildings.

The buildings do catch her attention for a moment.  They look like something out of the VR recreations of the old world, though not exactly.  Different architectural styles, and the doors look too small to fit the larger daémons - Araeneve would probably fit through but only barely.  

Still staying on her daémon's back, Verity tries speaking with the waving person, trying to explain what had just happened.  This place has strange non-daémon non-human creatures - was the giant mirror-snake something from here?  

The person smiles and shakes their head and says more things that Verity can't understand, but begins gesturing and walking towards the buildings.

Others are gathering, now. People seem to be concentrating in the area to gawk at the newcomers.

This makes Araeneve nervous.  She'll follow the person, careful to stay well out of reach of any of the people watching, keeping an eye out for good places to jump to if needed.  

Besides the roofs of buildings, there does look to be a path away from this more occupied area to an area in the distance with more plants and fewer structures. The person leads them to a particular building. The person knocks, says something, and smiles encouragingly at Verity. They do glance at Araeneve, but mostly keep their focus on her.

"Um.  Hello.  Can you understand me?"

She says something incomprehensible. She and the other stranger have a quick conversation while she keeps an eye on Araeneve. She's taller than the people they've seen so far, but still a bit shorter than Verity- maybe just about average for what she's used to. Her hair is long and healthy, something they can already see is uncommon here. More striking, though, is the stick she holds in her hand. Carved out of wood with various symbols and markings across its surface, she holds it against the ground. As soon as the other person finishes speaking, she nods, and points to Verity. Then she points to herself, her mouth, and her ears with her free hand, before finally pointing at Verity's ears.

She tries to figure out what's being conveyed by the pointing.  "I'm not sure what you mean."  She tries to look confused, but if they even have different gestures she's at a complete loss for how to express that.  Araeneve joins in, tilting their head to the side quizzically.

Fair enough. She points at her staff, which should clear up the confusion.

Nope. 

Does she mean that she's disabled and needs a cane, and asking if the speech is also some kind of disability?  "I think this place just has a different language than where I'm from," she tries.  That's going to be even harder to try and convey wordlessly.  

At about which point, she slams the staff against the ground and says:

"Hello. I should warn you that I didn't understand anything you've said up until now, but we should be fine going forward."

She blinks in confusion as Araeneve takes a step back at the noise.  Was that some kind of Move or Ability, like a daémon would have done?  

"Uh.  Okay.  I hadn't said anything important."

Then, "Hello.  My name is Verity-and-Araeneve.  We were in our fleet when some kind of thing with a mirror instead of a head... ate... us, with it's mirror.  I have no idea where we are or what's going on."

"Hello, Verity-and-Araeneve. I'm sorry you've appeared here so suddenly. We've never heard of Utgard-zombie-pokemon that could do anything like that. This is Nymet, in the town of Beacon Hills. My name is Marin, Pathfinder of Nymet. Which Innangarð did you come from?"

"I'm from the ship Tower of Autumn."

The person next to Marin looks confused. She interrupts to say, "Will that be all, pathfinder?"

"Yes, of course."

The other person leaves. Marin looks from Verity to Araeneve.

"You've had your companion on a ship with you? You must be braver than I am. Come, follow me inside. They can wait out here while we talk."

"Depending on how far in we'd go from the door, no they can't.  Daémons can't get more than about 20 feet from their person."  

She'd also rather not be spread out somewhere where there still might be dangers, or more giant mirror things.  If one of them had caught only Araeneve or only her...

"I see. Is one of you called 'Verity' and the other 'Araeneve'? My relationship with my zombie-pokemon is much more casual. We can speak out here. This staff allows me to do many things, one of which includes creating a zone of mutual-comprehensibility."

"Yeah.  I'm called Verity, and she's Araeneve.  Though, we're the same person in most respects.  

"Did something make your zombie-pokemon not attached to you?"

"No. My zombie-pokemon was always unattached to any human. It's only recently that we've become connected, but I wouldn't need to stay so close to it. Is everyone on your ship like you two? What about everyone in your Innangarð?"

"Everyone has a daemon where I'm from, appearing next to us when we're born.  There's hundreds of different shapes, but not ones exactly like you have here.  

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'Innangarð'."

She smiles slightly.

"You seem to be from a very different place than this one. When you say 'ship', do you mean a kind of transportation which takes you along the bridges between places where people live and make their homes?"

"The ships are very large vehicles carrying entire cities and their farmland, enclosed in glass and metal.  All are travelling together in a fleet through the void between stars, trying to reach a new planet after the place my ancestors originally came from began to die.  So far, they've been travelling for 200 years."

"We don't have any vehicle that could carry whole cities. That's very impressive. Our planet doesn't look like it will die soon. If anything, its life will overrun us. Right now, you've somehow appeared within the Innangarð of Nymet. An Innangarð consists of the buildings and the plants and the people you can see. The Utgard is the chaotic wilderness in between them. People that stay too long in the Utgard succumb-to-degradation."

"What sort of degradation?" 

Wilderness implies something other than the problems of going into space without a suit.  She doesn't remember anything like it being mentioned in histories about the old world, even before it started dying.  

“People that go into the Utgard find themselves changed, eventually. Living in nature, without civilization, is not good for us. There are the Utgard-beasts, which are dangerous in their own right, and then there are the Utgard-people, who try to trap and corrupt us.”

"How does it happen?  Or, how does being in an Innangarð stop it from happening?"

"Anyone who goes into the Utgard starts feeling it. We believe it's caused by drinking the water and eating the food there, although even breathing might start the process. Sleeping seems to slow it down, from the cases that managed to return only feytouched. Others, though, succumb-to-degradation. There are usually physical changes first, then mental ones. The feytouched are mostly themselves. It's harder to be sure for the succumbed-to-degradation. While we're within the Innangarðs, it doesn't happen to us at all. The bridges are more complicated. Nobody wants to test their limits. If someone succumbed-to-degradation on a bridge, they could get into one of the Innangarðs."

"What are the bridges?"

"The bridges are what connects the Innangarðs. We use them to travel. It's possible to travel the Utgard without the bridges, and it has many advantages, but the average person doesn't weigh costs and benefits carefully. Their fear of the Utgard is too strong, and it's hard to blame them. Bridges let us trade with other Innangarðs. We're working on building more of them, but they're very much long-term projects. We haven't built a new one in the past five years."

"What are they made from?  Is it a particular building material, or," she tries to come up with theories, "or other properties of your constructions that makes them repel the degradation?"

“It’s important that they touch the ground in as few places as possible, and we make them enclosed so that as little air from the Utgard gets in as we can manage. It’s the new Innangarðs that spring up along them that makes them really useful.”

She nods, trying to think of hypotheses. Maybe the degradation is mushroom spores?  She wishes she hadn't forgotten her phone this morning.  Not that it would be hooked up to this place's internet.  Though... she glances around.  What sort of technology does she see?

The architecture suggests a society which hasn't quite industrialized; most of the buildings are composed of wood and bricks. There is a well nearby, and there are a few animals being kept within fencing near the residential area. However, there are various devices which seem to incorporate metal.

Huh. 

She is completely out of her depth, and doesn't even know where to start.  Try and remember enough about electric generators to make a blueprint?  That probably isn't the right thing to do immediately.  

"Our world must be very different from yours. You don't seem surprised by us, though. You seem perfectly ordinary, like any other human, if half of you weren't a beast. Could you tell me how a typical day normally goes, for you?"

She's still panicking a bit, but at least has a direction for her thoughts to run that isn't in circles.  

"My usual job is purifying water, which is one of the special abilities that Suicune have that's different from other daemons.  I run through the residential areas in the early morning, cleaning the canals and fountains.  Then usually go to the farms during the day, for the reservoirs that keep the fields watered, and the reclaimed water from machines that filter useful materials from mud and sludge.  Sometimes there's a religious thing I need to attend - Suicune are considered important because they're rare," she says this last sentence with a hint of distaste.  

"Beyond that, I live in one of the apartments in Tower of Autumn designed for daemons as large as Araeneve.  Most daemons are smaller, but a few are much larger.  I spend my free time playing with VR, which... I have no idea how to explain.  Like a painting that you can move the viewpoint of, to explore almost like a real place?  I also create them, but not well.  Hmm..." she trails off, trying to think of anything major she's forgotten.

"Purifying water sounds useful. We use magic to purify ours, but not everyone can do it. Those who can do so also use up their limited reserves of magic. VR sounds similar to some things that magic can do. You should have a look later and compare. As for religion, we don't have a place for your Suicine yet, but we can make one."

"Having to deal with one religion is annoying enough, I don't want another.  We can only do so much in a single day, but each of our four Moves and our abilities have seperate reserves of power.  How does non-daemon magic work?"

"Magic comes from the Innangarðs or from the Utgard. Innangarðs grant powers to those who would use it wisely and for the good of others. People who spend some time in the Utgard sometimes return partially-degraded, and they have their own sort of magic. My magic allows me to traverse the Utgard more easily, move more quickly, prevent illness, control terrain, change the weather, command others, translate speech, disguise myself, and tame Utgard-beasts."

She considers the list, picturing the closest daemon moves which would do those things and unconsciously trying to guess at typing, even though it probably doesn't work the same way.  Maybe psychic? "Is that the Utgard set?  Or..." she realizes that she is only assuming that the two types would have different effects due to being from different sources.  "Do different people get different magics?"

"The magic granted by each Innangarð to their disciples is a bit different. Pathfinders, feybane, and wardens have similar powers no matter which Innangarð they come from. The partially-degraded don't always come back with useful magic. So far, we only know of the lightning-riders, soul-senders, and Utgard-beast-tamers."

"None of those sound like the abilities we have," she says.  Some of the names - or how they're being translated through the effect - are suggestive, though others are unclear.  

"There are several hundred types of daemons, who can each learn several dozen out of hundreds of Moves, though can only have 4 in-memory and accessible at once.  Plus a few extra abilities unique to each daemon type that can't be swapped out.  Suicune can always walk on water and purify it, and our current moves allow us to create water, create room-sized short-term blizzards, create temporary barriers which slow down things that pass through, and fall into a sleep-like trance to heal injuries quickly."

"Fascinating. I'm sure there are several hundred types of Utgard-beasts, but your Suicune- Araeneve, yes?- seems to have somewhat of a theme. Purifying, healing, water, and ice- is that common among daemons? Pathfinders have somewhat of a theme, as well- our moves make us better ambassadors, travelers, guides, and so on. We can use more than several dozen, though it takes us years."

"Yes, there are eighteen elemental types which daemons can be one or two of, and all moves fit into those types as well.  We are water.  We can't learn all of the water moves, and can learn some that aren't water, but they're closely tied together.  The other types are normal, fighting, flying, poison, ground, rock, bug, ghost, steel, fire, grass, electric, psychic, ice, dragon, dark, and fairy," she lists them off in a practiced cadence, as an order they're presumably memorized in.

“How were all of these ‘types’ named? They’re translating into concepts that don’t seem related to me. Were types discovered, or invented?”

She seems like she might have another question, but pauses and looks at Araeneve.

”Should I be speaking to all of you? I apologize if I’ve been rude.”

Araeneve makes a gesture that's equivalent to a shrug, and says, "Normally we speak to the other daemon while the humans speak to each other, in our own conversation parallel to yours.  Many of us don't speak to humans other than our own at all, unless we really need to.  It's strange, not having another daemon to speak to, but I don't need to be included in this one."

"The types feel like natural categories, and have been around for as long as our history goes back.  Some of the specifics in how they work, particularly for sparring between daemons, is consistent with the 18 types in a way that probably wouldn't happen if they were cultural only.  Ghost type moves going through all normal and fighting type daemons, but not the others, for example.  I suppose the names might not be descriptive, or translating correctly."

"What other moves could Araeneve learn? Your purification ability might be useful to us if it can combat degradation. If it could, we would be immensely grateful."

She tries to remember as much of the list as she can, trying to think of something good.  "Many that enhance physical abilities for combat.  Several that make water in different ways: hot water, hail, rain, bubbling jets.  A few that cause cold.  Making sand, making a false copy of oneself...  There's quite a few, but nothing that sounds useful.  The only promising one for that would be Mist, which protects people in an area from certain kinds of detrimental effects for a little while.  It doesn't get rid of problems already present, though, and I'm not sure if degradation is the right kind of thing for it to protect against.  We can try with the normal water purification ability, to see if that does anything."

"That does seem the most promising," she agrees. She draws a symbol on the ground, her eyes staying on Verity the whole time. Naturally, she can't interpret it. It looks just a series of lines.

"I could offer you some of my magic as protection, while you're here. If any harm comes to you, then the traitor will have to answer to me."

"That would be appreciated.  I do like not being harmed," she says, peering at the symbol.  "And I'll go about trying to replace Reflect with Mist in case it helps.  It might take a while; we can learn Moves quickly with TMs, but I'll have to learn them the long way here."

"Do you want me to describe what I'm doing, or do you prefer to maintain the mysticism and majesty?"

"I'd prefer to know what's going on, if it's not a secret."

"I work my magic through a combination of words and gestures. I channel Nymet's power through myself, and then through the staff. It took years to learn how to get into the right mindset as easily as I can now. It should only take a few minutes. Then, I'll focus on you. I'll use the words I've attached to certain protective spells in combination with the corresponding gestures. I chose them when I was first learning, if choosing is the right way to describe what I was doing. Any questions?"

"It doesn't sound much like daemon Moves," she notes, considering the information.  "What sorts of things does it protect against?"

"I can protect you against bladed weapons, fire, cold, lightning, poison, disease, and a few other unusual cases, including degradation and Utgard-beasts. I typically save such broad protections for those who brave the Utgard, but given your unique situation, I think I can make an exception."

"I'd appreciate that, thank you.  Particularly the disease, since you likely have ones we don't that I won't have resistance to."

She nods.

The magic mostly seems to entail tapping the staff against the ground, chanting, and drawing sigils in the ground around Verity and Araeneve. She does explain what she's doing: this sigil suggests protection, while these refer to the things which she is protecting against; some concepts are lumped together that might not be expected, while others might seem artificially separated. Fire, lightning, cold, disease, and poison are all handled by different protections, but all manner of attack from blades weapon are included in one of the protections.

She clarifies that the chanting, which neither of them can understand, is in her native tongue; evidently, her translation doesn't cover magic.

They watch, and nod along with the explanations, and otherwise stand still to avoid potentially interrupting the magic.  

Although there is plenty of chanting, she's clearly most focused on moving her staff- whether to draw in the ground, or complete a gesture in the air. Ultimately, after she's finished, she sighs and rests her weight against the staff.

"Well. There you go. Let's find you a home, and then I can guide you through Nymet."

"Thank you," she says again, trying to notice if she senses anything different about herself with the protections.  

"How are rooms usually assigned here?  I only know how they work on the fleet."

She feels more comfortable, as though she were at the ideal temperature for her. There are no other changes that she detect.

"We don't have the need to assign rooms, here. Given your status as a guest, someone will be willing to board you in exchange for some help around the house. I can make introductions if you want some choice in the matter."

"I'll trust your judgement on who to pick.  I don't think I could make a decision based on a few minutes of conversation.  Though, I think it would be best not to be put in a house with small children, since you don't have daemons.  The people here probably don't come with the instincts not to touch them."

Nod.

”There might be other cultural differences to watch out for. People will make assumptions about your daemon. Try to avoid walking without a guide, especially if Araeneve is the only one in sight. There also will be some men who think poorly of you, a Verity, as a woman traveling alone, but it’s an uncommon, antiquated view.”

She begins to lead them further into the more residential areas. Most of the buildings have some space outside which has been used to contain plants or to keep creatures hemmed in by fences.

"What kind of assumptions?  Daemons of different types have different stereotypes, at home, but I don't know what they'd think here.  And do people usually travel in groups in Innangarðs?"

She watches the animals curiously.  It's eerie to see something alive that isn't a plant or a person.  There had been pokemon on the dead world, so she isn't unfamiliar with the concept at least.

Some of the animals do seem to notice her, though few pay her much attention.

"There are assumptions about the kind of person who would keep a large Utgard-beast with them at all. You look dangerous compared to some Utgard-beast-tamers. As for you resembling a woman, they'll attribute to you various qualities such as humility, compassion, frivolity, and a romantic or artistic disposition. If those qualities seem unrelated to you, it might be useful for you to share some of your world's stereotypes so that I can be more specific. I'm not the best at seeing things like this from the inside unless they bother me, and this is one I've learned to work with."

"Those don't sound especially related to each other or to not travelling alone, though most of the stereotypes of daemon types probably aren't any more coherent from the outside.  It's women, specifically?  We don't have much difference between men and women; all of our preconceptions of other people is bound up in what their daemon settled as.

"Water types in general are expected to be cleanly, health-conscious, graceful, helpful, and forgetful.  Legendaries - the category of unusually rare and powerful types that Suicune are one of - are expected to be good leaders and wise to the point of prescience.  Suicune in particular... we're the only one in generations, but the notable ones from history were prone to running off and leaving things half-finished.  Annoyingly, at least some of these things have a shred of truth.  What a daemon settles as is determined partially by personality."

"Interesting. I suggest you present as aloof. We can talk tomorrow about what assumptions you want people to make."

Here, then, is a small hut. Like most of the buildings, it is too imprecise to resemble the other houses perfectly, but it has the same rough shape and required the same building materials.

Marin leads them inside, where she introduces the visitors to their hosts. The couple and their mother speak to Marin, though they cannot understand what she says when she's speaking to someone else.

Finally, she turns back to them.

"I hope this will meet your standards for one night. I want to know what you need to be comfortable in our home."

It occurs to Verity that at this technological level, they probably don't have the things even the poor corner of Column of Summer where she grew up would have.  She isn't sure what sorts of things are reasonable to ask for.  

"Whatever you normally offer to guests will be fine.  Though, I do prefer to sleep alongside my daemon."

She nods, and speaks to the hosts again. Finally, she turns back to Verity and Araeneve.

"You can spend your nights here. In case it's not obvious, try not to spend much time alone with the man of the house, keep your clothes on as much as you can help it, and wait outside the house as soon as you wake up. I'll be your guide until you're more used to the place."

Or until they find a way to send her home. She supposes she'll find out soon how likely that is.

They nod.  "The clothes part is obvious.  The man, specifically?  Is this another gender thing, or is he as an individual prone to causing problems of some kind?" she asks, lowering her voice for the last part.  Not knowing much about the magic, she isn't sure whether they can understand her or not.  

Waiting outside of the house is also a bit strange to her, though housing strangers in one's own house isn't usually done on the fleet.  She's used to being expected to get out of hotel rooms as soon as she's finished sleeping, which might be a closer comparison.  Glancing surreptitiously around, does it seem like the hut is small enough that they do most of their non-sleeping activities outside?

"Unfortunately, it's nothing specific about him. Assumptions about your immorality, instability, and immaturity would come from signaling anything which someone could read as interest in him. If I thought he were dangerous, I wouldn't put you with them."

Looking around, she can see that the hut is about as small as it looked from the outside, meaning there are three rooms for all of its purposes. She can investigate more closely what those might be.

"I'll avoid showing interest in men, or looking like I might be.  I'm unclear what men being singled out for this implies regarding whether or not I'm expected to show interest in women?  Not that either seems likely at the moment, but I'm trying to get a better understanding of what you think the differences are." 

"What sort of things will I be expected to do to help out here?"

"Women showing an interest in women is somewhat uncommon. People tend to place a greater weight on relationships between men and women, because most people see marriage and child-rearing as an essential part of life. There are too many complicated social games, mores, and presumptions surrounding all of that to really keep track of. Just bear in mind that most people will assume you want to sleep with men, that you want to have children, and that, as an outsider, you'll be unscrupulous or selfish in making sure those two things happen.

As for what you can do- your moves sound like they'll help advance the state of our current plumbing solution. It's mostly handled by magic which could be better used for investing in long-term progress instead of maintenance. Do you have any other skills which made you stand out among your peers?"

"Plumbing does sound like a good thing to help with.  Anything where you need water somewhere and don't have a good way of transporting it.  Despite the name, Surf does make potable water.  We can run fast, and keep up that speed for hours at a time without getting tired.  Freezing things.  In the long run, writing down everything I know about science and technology."

"I'll speak to some of the other local figures. We'll hopefully have a better idea of what we can do for you tomorrow. In the meantime, get comfortable here. If you want to wander around, feel free. If anyone bothers you, repeat 'I am a guest of Marin Pathfinder' and they should keep their distance."

She repeats it as best she can, stumbling a bit on a sound their languages don't share but managing to be understandable.  "Thank you."  

Lost for what to do next, they glance around the room more openly.  

In the room that she is in, there are pots, pans, dishes, cups, and utensils filling up the available counter space. There is a table in the center of the room, chairs near the fireplace, and a plain, metal box on the floor.

Their hosts speak among themselves, seeming to take it as given that Verity and Araeneve don't need taking care of. If they're going to provide food, they're showing no sign of worrying about it.

Sensing that she's been dismissed for the moment, she will poke her head into the other two rooms to see what they're for.  Then, she'll make a close circuit around the outside of the house, looking for anything like outhouses or wells that she might need to find later.

She finds the pantry, well-stocked with flour, lentils, and assorted other ingredients. She can identify a small shrine: a table decorated with flowers and with small, colorful figurines. There are two cots, as well as a wardrobe. Outside, she does find an outhouse, although there is no well in sight.

Luckily, she's unlikely to ever need a well.  She spends a while staring up at the sky and the plants and trees, occasionally reaching out to run a finger against the rough texture of the bark.  Not a VR simulation.  She's careful not to leave sight of the hut and eventually wanders back in to ask if there's anything she ought to be doing.  

They seem to take this as a request for food. They seat her at their table (not in the best condition) and they all prepare to eat. The man sits down and talks animatedly to the older woman, while the younger busies herself with putting warm food on their plates. Dinner here appears to consist of a porridge, savory bread, and boiled vegetables served in a creamy sauce.

She thanks them, trying to get across gratitude despite the language barrier, and follows their lead on when to start eating or other table manners.  Without staring, she listens to the words, trying to catch any patterns.  Unfortunately, she isn't very good at languages.  

They all hold hands and close their eyes. It seems her seat has been chosen such that she can easily opt out of this ritual, if she wants to. After that, the older woman nods at her with a smile and begins eating. The other two look to Verity expectantly. One of them does say something which she can eventually gather, from repeated use, to be some kind of social nicety. No one offers Araeneve anything.

Since it does seem to be an option, she'll opt out.  Verity already has to deal with one too many religions and this feels like something of that sort.

Does repeating the phrase back seem like the right thing to do?  She tries it, not knowing what the local response is, and also thanks them in her language.  

Araeneve doesn't need to eat, and finds somewhere comfortable to sit.  It's awkward not having daemons to speak to - or at least socially preen in absence of a common language.  The plain metal box on the floor continues to puzzle her.  None of the VR simulations of old planet towns had them.  It seems like something better to ask about once Marin returns than to try to peek into, so it is left alone.  

Repeating the phrase seems to get surprised smiles all around. The older woman repeats back Verity's thanks as well. They do open the box soon after dinner, and the man takes out a wooden flute. The women sit on the floor, and the younger one pats the ground next to her, inviting Verity to sit.

Well, hopefully it turns out to not be something weird, or an agreement to something awful.  

She will continue following their lead and instructions, sitting on the floor.  Araeneve sits in a row with them as well, on the opposite side of Verity from the women.  

The man plays a song. It sounds passable, although he isn’t a professional. The women begin to clap, singing off-tune, and the man begins to dance. They seem to be enjoying themselves. After about an hour of variations on this, during which they each take turns dancing with one another (and Verity, if she’ll join in), the event seems to be over.

They all begin to settle in for sleep. The younger one, who guides Verity to a bed, looks flummoxed about where to put Araeneve.

Verity hasn't done much dancing, but is graceful enough once she learns the steps.  Araeneve hums along with the music once each song has gone on long enough for them to pick up the melody, adding a harmony that goes along with the main tune as daemons typically do while Verity hums with the same tune the women are singing in.  

They don't want to put anyone out of their own beds, and those beds don't look rated for large daemons.  Also, at least in her own culture, that would be seen as 'showing interest' in the way she's been told to avoid, even if the other person isn't sharing it at the time.  Verity tries to motion that they'd prefer to stay on the floor, curled up mostly on Araeneve, possibly with a cushion or something for their legs if there are any that can be borrowed from a chair.  

Their hosts provide them with blankets and cushions, and then they retire to their rooms. While the house grows quiet, Verity and Araeneve can hear the sounds of insects buzzing and chirping throughout the night.

They curl up and sleep relatively comfortably, a blanket entirely covering Araeneve just in case someone gets up in the middle of the night and trips over them, though they selected somewhere out of the main walking paths.  

It's still a bit before sunrise when they wake up and can't get back to sleep again.  They quietly return the cushions to where they started and fold the blankets neatly, then step outside as directed.  

The Innangarðr comes alive slowly. There are already some folks up and about when they step outside, but besides a few smiles and waves, no one approaches them. Most of the people who walk by them seem to be carrying something: bolts of cloth, baskets of food, beaded necklaces...

After about twenty minutes, Marin finds them.

"Good morning. I hope you both slept well."

She is very happy to see someone who she can understand. 

"Hello!  We slept fine.  There weren't any problems, as far as I could tell."

"I'm glad. I've spoken to some of the other decision-makers in Nymet, and we've concluded that you should meet some of the feytouched. If your purification moves can cure them, you'll be an incredible aid to our world."

"It can't hurt to try," she says.  It doesn't sound a lot like purifying a water system of pollutants, but they also don't have anything like it on the fleet or the dead world.  "Do you have some in this town?"

Nod.

"I'll introduce you. I also want you to meet another a feybane and a warden."

They walk through the town, eventually moving from the residential area to something more commercial. There are several buildings whose signage they cannot read, though Marin does point a few out: the theater, the coliseum, the nature preserve.

"What do you do at the coliseum, without daemons?"

"Gladiatorial matches. Men and, more rarely, women, fight each other for the entertainment of onlookers. Some variations use weapons or magic, and others do not. I don't have much interest in it, but I can take you to see a bout if you like."

"Sounds fun.  Daemons fight each other regularly, though I haven't been able to join them properly since Araeneve settled as a legendary.  I've never seen fights involving humans."

She takes note of where everything is, trying to memorize the town's layout for the future.  

Most of the public spaces seem to have a clear purpose, but then there are areas which she refers to as preserves: heavily wooded areas which they can barely see into, with various signs warning not to get too lost.

There are a few other buildings with the pathfinder mentions specifically, including a church and a hostel, before they arrive.

This building is ornate, compared to anything they've seen so far. The basic composition still appears to be wood, but there are flowers growing on it in a symmetrical, organized pattern and precious metals and gems have been used to decorate it further.

"The rules here are fairly simple, especially because I am also your translator. Only speak when I speak to you. It won't be dangerous if you break this rule, but it will be rude."

It's interesting how they find different materials valuable than what she's used to.

"Understood."  She glances around to determine the purpose of the building.

It isn't as well-trafficked as some of the others have been. As they step inside, she can see four people seated behind a wooden table. They each are wearing clothes in predominantly one color, although the style and material varies.

"Emissaries. This is Verity-and-Araeneve. I hope that you will show her kindness. Verity, these are the emissaries. I hope that you will show them respect."

Then, she waits. The emissaries confer among themselves- not too quietly to hear, but in a language Verity and Araeneve cannot understand.

She'll just stand here and wait.  Araeneve meanders slowly around a few feet behind Verity, instinctively looking for other daemons to speak to, then glancing at the decor some more before returning to Verity's side.  

Eventually, Marin addresses them.

"We were wondering if there are any skills you would benefit from while you're here. I imagine one of your main goals will be to find your way home."

"Maybe.  A reliable way to trade or travel back and forth would be good for everyone.  Other than that - language lessons?  A smith or tinkerer who can interpret what I know of fleet technology and turn them into machines, though that's more something I can do for you than the other way around."

She nods.

"All of the emissaries here have moves of their own. It could be useful to speak with each of them about their abilities. I should warn you, though, that they might try to get you involved in politics. For now, I will be here as your translator. I can find a language teacher for you once we've finished here."

"I'm used to the type.  Are the emissaries the leaders here?"

"Something like that. There are leaders with more local power, but when it comes to Utgard-folk, we take the lead."

She nods.  "Which one should I speak with first?  I'm also not sure what exactly I should be asking, starting from not much information at all."

"Start by asking them to explain what they can do. I want to present you as an ambassador of your world until we have reason not to, which means I should be minimally involved once you start addressing them."

She'll go from left to right, addressing them as if speaking directly to them.  Presumably there's either a translation effect or Marin will copy her words into the local language.  She asks what each one can do, in turn, and prepares herself to try and memorize the answers without getting them confused with what a fleet person wearing their colors would be expected to do.

Marin translates.

First is the one in a deep, dark blue cloak- the kind of blue that looks almost black, like the sky when the sun's last light is fading away.

She introduces herself as "Talia Lightningrider of Nymet", and talks about her ability to manipulate the weather. Most effective at sea, her powers in Nymet are limited to calling and banishing rainfall, increasing wind speeds, and producing weapons made of pure lightning from her body.

She's not sure exactly what things she's expected to ask or say.  It's so unsettling to not be able to look at their daemons and know what they can do, or check it in the library.  Verity asks some clarifying questions regarding the range of the effects and whether Talia knows if the water for the rain is coming from existing lakes or appearing from nothing.  

This process can be repeated for the other emissaries.  

"I work most effectively with water that I can sense. I've been told that I've created water, but I couldn't prove it."

She nods.  "My ability can create water from nothingness, and other people where I'm from can create other matter, so it wouldn't be unheard of.  ...I suspect there isn't any scientific test I can suggest which hasn't already been done."  

"I could hear more on the subject, if you're inclined to spend your time that way. Scientific inquiry isn't my cup of tea, but it's an area where we need more minds working, not less."

Another of the figures gestures to Marin.

Marin rolls her eyes, the first time since they've arrived that she has behaved so casually.

She translates for him as well.

"My sister's translation leaves something to be desired in terms of its consistency and predictability, so I'd like us to exploit its more convenient traits. I wonder if you could expand on the definition of science to help close the gap? I would say that science involves a process of observing the world around us, testing a particular idea by comparing a control state to some interestingly different one, and fate-weaving to improve the results."

"I'll think of possible experiments to suggest, in that case."  She doubts her ability to come up with anything clever, but she will try.  

Keeping in mind that it would probably help to be specific and maybe even slightly repetitive, to hopefully clear up any translation issues, "The first part of that sounded familiar.  The steps they teach in my world are: Make an observation, form a hypothesis - an explanation that can be tested - for why the observation happened, come up with a test that will behave differently depending on whether the hypothesis is true or not, and test it.  There are a number of things about the tests - having a control group is one, and making sure that only the one thing being tested is different between the two groups, and making sure the groups are as large as possible to avoid random chance making too big of an impact.  After testing, there's analyzing the results, forming a conclusion, and sharing the results.  Preferably also then using the knowledge to... plant crops in the soil that turned out to be better for them, or whatever the test was about.  

"I'm not sure what you mean by fate-weaving."

"Fascinating. If you lack fate-weaving...fate-weaving is what allows us to ensure that the point of interest is the only thing that varies between the two groups. We can chart a course through possible futures to minimize other, confounding factors. There's never been much discussion on keeping the groups as large as possible, though. Why is that useful?"

"It doesn't sound familiar.  

"Making the groups larger sounds like it's what we use in place of fate-weaving.  The more times something is tested, the less likely that something unrelated and random is causing any noticable results.  To use the example I said earlier, if someone is growing seeds in two soil samples and each kind of soil has one seed, then if one fails it might be the soil or it might be a dud seed no matter how carefully they picked them out to look similar.  But if each group has a hundred seeds, it's more likely that it's the soil and not the seeds if one side gets a noticable difference.  A thousand per soil type would be even better."  

"I think you're right. Similar goals, but different methods. We might be able to learn from each other. I've always believed fate-weaving was a mundane ability, something that could be done without magic, but it might not be, if your world didn't discover it. You seem quite a bit more advanced, in other respects, according to Marin."

"I'd be interested in trying it, to see if it works for me," she decides.  Later, though.  For now, she can ask him about his abilities.  

Clerics have different powers depending on their Innangarð. His powers have to do with transmuting substances, manipulating the weather, moving stealthily, and predicting the future.

"Nothing very widely-applicable. I've used transmutation to some effect locally. Unfortunately, it's temporary."

"Transmutation sounds like it could be useful, even if temporary.  Just to make sure the translation is coming through correctly, transmuting means something getting turned into another substance while keeping the same size and shape?"

"That's right. Wood, stone, and metal tend to be the most useful transmutations here. One avenue for exploration might be to try transmuting from a substance we know to one unique to your world. Imagined substances have never worked, and there are other obvious limits, but there might be something no one from this world could think of."

"What happens if something is drastically changed while transformed, like something turned to salt then dissolved in water or something turned to wood being burned?  I suppose turning iron ingots to clay to reshape them would be easier than forging them, if the new shape is kept when they turn back into metal.  Is that something done here that works?"  She's also still trying to think of any advanced materials that could be useful.  The rare metals like cobalt are valuable, but mostly in complex things like batteries that she doesn't know how to make.  Plastic is useful, but for its durability and ease of cleaning.  It might take her a while to come up with anything.  

After some discussion, it transpires that these transmutations can last only up to a few hoursr, and are limited to specific materials. Salt is not possible; plastic has never been tried. Cobalt is possible, though it seems they have not yet developed batteries and need a detour to clarify how those work.

Verity recounts what she immediately can about batteries, which is mostly that they can store electricity but not how it's accomplished.  She knows a bit more about electricity in general, and can make a quick overview and note that she does know how to generate it with magnets and copper wire.  Plastic is even more complicated.  The method they use to create it requires sludge-like substances that certain Moves create, which can be refined in some complex manner.  She doesn't know if there's a natural equivalent to it.

She's curious if they know what the pattern is between what materials can and can't result from transmutation.  Metal and stone and wood but not salt seems like a strange combination.  Maybe she could puzzle through it with more examples?

"Not all metals can be transmuted in that way. My suspicion is that only substances we've learned to use as materials in construction of objects can be transmuted; it's proving to be a challenging theory to test within my lifetime."

"Huh!  That does fit...  What counts as a constructed object?" she asks, briefly silently wondering if this should be better saved until later.  Well, she's not getting hurried along yet that she's noticed, "Presumably meals don't count, if salt doesn't.  Or possibly it's just not a large enough component?  Could you transmute something so it becomes made of potato?"  She guesses a few more reasonable materials - glass, paper, silk.  

Paper has not been tested. There is a brief conference with Marin about what ‘paper’ means before they conclude that they write on animal-based material. He has tested clothes and glass to no avail.

”I admit, I’m curious about how your world uses paper. Here, we treat writing a luxury; I've never learned how, myself, although I would have liked to. It never made sense to spend the time on it.”

"We make paper from finely-shredded wood which is mixed into a wood-and-water slurry then pressed into thin sheets.  It's mostly used in art, for drawing and painting."

"Everyone on the fleet learns to read as children.  It's more useful when there are devices that let people send written messages instantly and easily access stores of written knowledge.  Paper is an intermediate between that and this - books and letters which are written and carried around manually from place to place."  She tries to remember what history they'd managed to piece together on how that occurred.  "I think stamps that let people easily make multiple copies of the same text was important in this."

"What does 'animal-based' mean?"

"Alan, don't forget that we have other business to attend to."

"-of course. Ah, 'animal-based' refers to any products that we kill animals for. Animals are living resources that reproduce sexually, the way humans do. Among the materials we can extract from them is the skin that we use for writing. We also use them as food."

"Ah, I hadn't realized they left corpses like humans instead of vanishing like daemons."

It sounds like it could be important that they have a source of skin and bones without the moral issues of using human remains.  Some religious minorities from the smaller ships had traditions of taking a bone to be carved into a remembrance totem, but anything larger or more practical was taboo.  She wouldn't have thought of using skin in place of paper.  And food... would that be a specific organ, or...?

As curious as she is, she'll wrap up the current discussion without asking her questions right now.  Those seem like things that most people here will know.  Hopefully she'll be able to remember her curiosity later on since it seems she won't be able to write a note to herself easily.  

What does the next of the four emissaries have to say?

He gives her an overview. Wardens can detect lies. They can are more athletic, acrobatic, and resilient in harsh environmental conditions. Not only do they heal more easily, but they tend to be more challenging to strike a tblow against in battle. Most of these benefits come from their songs. They sing about historical figures: brave heroes and inspirational leaders of the past. Sometimes they can even summon spectral versions of them to help defend the Innangard. Wardens can create miniature versions of their Innangard around objects and people, protecting them from the Utgard. They can experience the feelings of their community, sometimes sharing them between different people. They can treat anxiety, chasing away fear and anger, or motivating their allies.