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Sweat drips down her bare neck.
That’s how she knows it’s what Cousin calls ‘hot as balls’ because she has her long hair tied up in a bun that’s been shoved unceremoniously into a cap and still, still the air clings to her skin, sweltering and humid. Caitlyn is honestly surprised that she hasn’t yet sweat entirely through her shirt or her shorts, though perhaps those are the perks of navy on black, perks that she is still suffering for in the dying sunlight of this late evening market.
Even with the sun beginning to set, the lights starting to turn on, the smell of oil and fried food hanging in the air, it’s still hot as all hell.
Caitlyn sighs.
Summer is the only time they get to make it out here because of Mother’s schedule. It is nice to be in a land where people don’t know them, where they don’t stand out, where the food is constantly so good, where the night markets bustle with the crowds about.
She edges closer to the stall selling grilled squid, walks past the one selling a piece of flat fried chicken the size of her head. Her stomach rumbles quietly, thereby presenting her with multiple dilemmas.
Should she refrain?
Dinner is in an hour. It will naturally be a spread that cannot be fully consumed by all the people at the table, which means few will begrudge Caitlyn the new kid from abroad for not finishing her food and fewer still will know it is due to snacking.
Should she purchase something?
None of the savory foods are cold. None of the desserts look particularly appealing before dinner. What should she purchase? There is, of all things, hot soup, which on any other day might be tasty but right now even being close to the stand makes Caitlyn feel like she will evaporate.
She walks on, past a stall selling savory pancake wraps, past another with the glass front packed to the brim with sausages.
“帅哥来看一下吧 handsome guy, come over and take a look, ” the vendor’s voice rings out.
Caitlyn freezes in front of a giant grill of only corn. Did she hear that right? She did. Her Ionian isn’t that rusty. She knows what she heard. Why did they say that and why does it feel weird?
It should feel wrong, shouldn’t it?
She realizes the vendor is now staring back at her, realizes she also doesn’t know what to say besides the fact that she’s really not that into grilled corn right now and said grill is radiating a truly ridiculous amount of heat that she can feel on her face.
“I uhm—”
The vendor does a visible double take, a sheepish smile going to their face.
“Oh sorry 美女来来，尝点现烤玉米 pretty lady, come and try some freshly grilled corn.”
It’s interesting, Caitlyn thinks, how the correction doesn’t feel particularly good either.
She ends up paralyzed by the choice, walking the market from end to end.
The corn vendor tries to offer her corn every time she passes. Caitlyn smiles and shakes her head.
When she gets back Father is waiting to bundle her off into one of the changing rooms, the traditional dress that Mother's had prepared all set up for her.
Caitlyn shimmies into it, exchanging the bun tucked under her flat cap for one that she spears a long hair pin through.
The gold chain and jade pendant swishes with each of her steps as she hurries out for dinner.
The summer nights are significantly cooler than the summer evenings but Caitlyn contains so much food she doesn't think she could ever be cold again.
“Why do they call everyone 帅哥美女? Does it not cheapen the meaning of the word?”
Father chuckles. “It’s a term of endearment, sweetpea. Doesn’t it feel nice to be a little flattered from time to time?”
Caitlyn tries to roll over on the couch. Tries. It turns out that she is too stuffed from dinner to be on her stomach so she settles back on her side.
“But would it not feel genuine after a while?”
Father’s eyes twinkle.
“It still tickles me rather warm when someone calls me 帅哥,” he says. “Hardly anyone will anymore.”
He looks wistfully out the door, in the direction of Mother’s study here in their Ionian estate. She’s busy. She always is, even when they’re on holiday.
Caitlyn throws a cushion at him that he catches. “That’s gross, Father.”
“Oh, you definitely take after your Mother,” he says. “I pity your future beloved, Caitlyn, so cold and so—”
The next one hits him smack in the face.
Caitlyn giggles.
“They called me 帅哥 first,” she says and as the words emerge she feels a weight sitting inside her, a hesitancy as she looks up into Father’s warm brown eyes. “It felt a little weird but I don’t know if I hated it. They changed it to 美女 when they heard me speak. I don’t know if I liked that either.”
She squishes the cushion in her hand.
“Caitlyn,” Father’s voice is soft. “You don’t have to know yet,” he says. “And, if it is what feels right, this family can fit two 帅哥s without a problem.”
The next time they're back to Ionia, Caitlyn finds a shirt and pants in the same style as Father's prepared for her for the reunion dinner.
She slips on the new pair of pointed toe heeled boots and doesn't look back.
Caitlyn's hair is up.
Not that it isn't usually, but today it's up all the way in a bun that's a little messier but also a little tighter than she usually likes it, Vi knows.
She gets it though.
They'd landed in Ionia in the blazing summer sun and even the two steps from their airship transfer had sweat beading on her brow. Caitlyn had warned her about the summers in Ionia but it's so true that this is a heat that has to be experienced to be understood. And Vi understands. Oh, she does.
It's later in the evening now and most of Ionia seems to be trees which apparently helps but clearly not enough because it is still sweltering even with the windows open.
Vi surreptitiously undoes one more of her buttons, is secretly very glad that she doesn't have to suffer the sweaty heat of her bindings anymore, is also somewhat amused that Caitlyn is the one taking longer to get ready today.
Granted this is for a simple jaunt through the night market and half of the time has been spent by Caitlyn trying on a series of tops that have shorter and shorter sleeves.
(She'll convert Caitlyn to sleeveless tops one day even if that day is not today, she just knows it.)
“It can't be that bad,” Vi says.
Caitlyn pauses.
Her head turns.
In the low light of their bedroom her eye twinkles wickedly and she smiles but doesn't say a word.
It's hot as fuck.
Vi lets Caitlyn tug her along through the throng, tries her very best to not bump into anyone—she has experience weaving through crowds unseen but that's different from this slow, leisurely jaunt.
Or it would be leisurely if she wasn't literally dripping from her brow, from her arms, from everywhere it is possible for a human being to sweat from.
Her only solace is that Caitlyn also looks equally damp with her hair tucked away in her flat cap.
That's not true. It's not her only solace.
The night market is bustling and full of energy, filled with loads of tasty smells and the buzz of happy chatter. All around them there are groups of friends, couples, families with kids big and small. People are eating, drinking, talking, and laughing.
The town has come alive and if she has to suffer the heat for it then she will.
It reminds her a little of her childhood, of the stalls in the lanes but more crowded.
People talk more here too.
She catches the eyes of one of the vendors dipping bananas into chocolate. He grins back at her, a toothy grin, waving the banana on a stick that drips thick chocolate drops onto the counter.
He doesn't seem to care.
“帅哥们来看一下 handsome guys, come take a gander,” come the jaunty words.
Vi blinks once, then twice, slowing.
She's been learning Ionian so she knows she didn't hear wrong. She looks to Caitlyn who simply raises her eyebrows in return like there's nothing strange about that statement, like she knows.
Caitlyn knows. Caitlyn is observant to a fault. Caitlyn knows her better than anyone. Caitlyn would know what she's thinking.
“We can get one,” Caitlyn says, drifting back to her, “though you might have to have most of it because I prefer to have my savories before my sweets.”
“Oh,” says Vi. “No, I was just—”
She looks at Caitlyn, at the flat cap her hair is tucked into, at thin navy shirt, at the Kiramman suspenders and the loose linen pants. She looks down at herself in her black tank top and jeans, thinks about her hair tied up and back in what most people would call a man bun.
Maybe there's nothing strange with that statement after all.
“I guess he's right.”
Caitlyn's grin is a little knowing, a little smug.