Ibuka

The air in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria always tasted of static and sweet dust, a flavour Ibuka found deeply irritating. Their companion, a perpetually nervous map-maker, claimed it tasted like adventure. They were only partnered because Monku had sat with Ibuka for a whole afternoon, patiently explaining that even the most defiant rebel needs someone to hold the map right-side-up. Ibuka would scout ahead, bamboo stalks clattering on their back, while their partner documented every crystal shimmer. Days ended with Ibuka begrudgingly sharing their choc stick, listening to lectures on crystalline structures, and feeling a strange, unfamiliar sense of calm. The irritation never fully vanished, but it started to taste a little less like loneliness.