Wanderer
The speeder slowed to a stop beside the familiar sand-worn house, its pale stone exterior glowing warm under the fading Lorrdian sun. Long shadows stretched across the desert, and heat still clung to the air even as evening settled in.
Seo Linn stepped out first, boots crunching softly in the sand. She glanced back at Kas with a small, steady smile — one part invitation, one part apology. "It's not fancy," she murmured quietly, "but it's home."
From the outside, the house looked peaceful, almost sleepy, lanterns beginning to flicker to life beneath the awning. A few desert blossoms clung stubbornly to their pots despite the dry season. A scrap-metal windchime — her father's work — clinked gently in the breeze.
Seo led the way up the narrow stone path.
She hadn't sent a message ahead. She wasn't sure why — maybe because this felt easier without time for her parents to turn dinner into a production. Maybe because she wanted Kas to see them as they were.
Halfway to the door, a small figure burst out of the side yard with all the subtlety of a detonated firecracker.
"Mom!"
Her son barreled into her legs, sandy-haired and bright-eyed, wearing one boot and one sock — evidence of some half-finished adventure. Seo bent and lifted him with practiced ease, his small arms immediately looping around her neck.
She kissed the top of his head, murmuring, "Easy, sweetling." Then, gently, "We have a guest tonight, so mind your manners."
The boy turned, wide eyes staring at Kas with open, unfiltered curiosity. After a beat, he whispered — far too loudly — "He's tall."
Before Seo could respond, the front door slid open.
Her mother stood there, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other resting absently on the curve of her heavily pregnant stomach. Her eyes widened in surprise first at seeing Seo, then at the stranger beside her.
"Seo?" Her mother blinked, then broke into a gentle, exhausted smile. "Well, this is unexpected. Come inside, both of you. It's still hot out."
As Seo stepped forward, her father's voice drifted from deeper in the house:
"Who was at the door? If it's another vapor-tank salesman I'm not—"
He appeared behind his wife mid-sentence, stopping short when he saw Seo. "Ah. Not a salesman." His gaze flicked between Seo, her son latched to her shoulder, and Kas. His eyebrows lifted. "...Company, then."
Her mother shot him a look that said behave more clearly than any spoken word.
Inside, the home was small but warm — woven rugs, desert-toned tapestries, shelves crammed with her father's tools, old books, and her son's scattered toys. The smell of food lingered in the air: something simmering slowly, probably meant to stretch into leftovers.
Seo set her son down, brushing dust from his knees before he scampered toward his toys. She turned back to Kas, a quiet flush warming her cheeks.
"I promise this wasn't meant to be an ambush," she said softly, lips curving with shy humor.
Her mother ushered them toward the small sitting area, already reaching for additional plates. Her father disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about "finding more cutlery" and "checking the stew."
Seo exhaled, letting her boots sink into the worn rug as she glanced toward the sunset filtering through the window.
"I'm… really glad you came," she said quietly, sincerity warming her voice. "Despite the chaos."
She gestured for him to sit, her expression open, hopeful, and just a little nervous — leaving room for Kas to step into the evening however he wished.
Kas Larsen
Seo Linn stepped out first, boots crunching softly in the sand. She glanced back at Kas with a small, steady smile — one part invitation, one part apology. "It's not fancy," she murmured quietly, "but it's home."
From the outside, the house looked peaceful, almost sleepy, lanterns beginning to flicker to life beneath the awning. A few desert blossoms clung stubbornly to their pots despite the dry season. A scrap-metal windchime — her father's work — clinked gently in the breeze.
Seo led the way up the narrow stone path.
She hadn't sent a message ahead. She wasn't sure why — maybe because this felt easier without time for her parents to turn dinner into a production. Maybe because she wanted Kas to see them as they were.
Halfway to the door, a small figure burst out of the side yard with all the subtlety of a detonated firecracker.
"Mom!"
Her son barreled into her legs, sandy-haired and bright-eyed, wearing one boot and one sock — evidence of some half-finished adventure. Seo bent and lifted him with practiced ease, his small arms immediately looping around her neck.
She kissed the top of his head, murmuring, "Easy, sweetling." Then, gently, "We have a guest tonight, so mind your manners."
The boy turned, wide eyes staring at Kas with open, unfiltered curiosity. After a beat, he whispered — far too loudly — "He's tall."
Before Seo could respond, the front door slid open.
Her mother stood there, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other resting absently on the curve of her heavily pregnant stomach. Her eyes widened in surprise first at seeing Seo, then at the stranger beside her.
"Seo?" Her mother blinked, then broke into a gentle, exhausted smile. "Well, this is unexpected. Come inside, both of you. It's still hot out."
As Seo stepped forward, her father's voice drifted from deeper in the house:
"Who was at the door? If it's another vapor-tank salesman I'm not—"
He appeared behind his wife mid-sentence, stopping short when he saw Seo. "Ah. Not a salesman." His gaze flicked between Seo, her son latched to her shoulder, and Kas. His eyebrows lifted. "...Company, then."
Her mother shot him a look that said behave more clearly than any spoken word.
Inside, the home was small but warm — woven rugs, desert-toned tapestries, shelves crammed with her father's tools, old books, and her son's scattered toys. The smell of food lingered in the air: something simmering slowly, probably meant to stretch into leftovers.
Seo set her son down, brushing dust from his knees before he scampered toward his toys. She turned back to Kas, a quiet flush warming her cheeks.
"I promise this wasn't meant to be an ambush," she said softly, lips curving with shy humor.
Her mother ushered them toward the small sitting area, already reaching for additional plates. Her father disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about "finding more cutlery" and "checking the stew."
Seo exhaled, letting her boots sink into the worn rug as she glanced toward the sunset filtering through the window.
"I'm… really glad you came," she said quietly, sincerity warming her voice. "Despite the chaos."
She gestured for him to sit, her expression open, hopeful, and just a little nervous — leaving room for Kas to step into the evening however he wished.