Chapter Text
One sunny afternoon in Sanctuary, a crowd had gathered around a coppersmith's stall, chattering excitedly.
A copper-frame lantern hung proudly from the overhang, with small intricate copper-wrought grates and chains arranged around the stand for display. The merchant, Ana, was giving out little copper wire-wrapped pendants for free, although those who recognized the design usually politely turned it down to make sure the Pixandrians visiting the stall got their pick.
Overall, it was quite a busy afternoon. Omir, the candlemaker, helped distribute gifts and keep the children entertained while pointing the adults towards Ana's permanent shop, where she had larger and more intricate works on display and had a waitlist for commissions. (The list was very long.)
"Thank you again," Ana told him during a lull in the crowd. "There's no way I'd be able to do all of this on my own."
"Of course," he responded with a smile. His grey hair contrasted starkly with his dark skin, but it was neat and well-groomed. He wore a simple copper earring in one ear. "You do good work. I had to help you out somehow."
Ana laughed at that. Her hair was dark and curly, and tied back in a high ponytail. "I needed it. I could never handle all those kids on my own."
"Of course." Omir leaned back and put his hands in his pockets, gaze sweeping the crowd. "They can be loud sometimes, sure, but the little ones are treasures."
Ana nodded. Before she could respond, however, a new person walked curiously up to the stall, their long, brightly colored hair and boldly patterned shirt indicating that they were a resident of Chromia.
"Good afternoon," said Ana.
"Hi," said the person, looking at the stall with interest. "Are these all copper?"
"Yes!" Ana replied brightly. "I make them myself."
"Ooh," said the Chromian, carefully picking up a grate to inspect it. "This is gorgeous. Family business?"
"You could say," said Ana, picking up one of the pendants and showing it to them. "My people have been working with copper for a very long time." Seeing the person's confused expression, she added, "I'm Pixandrian. We're desert people. We left the desert long ago, but we've always been known for three things: copper, wax, and recordkeeping."
"Ohh," said the Chromian with an understanding nod. They paused. "Wait, copper?"
Ana shared a brief, confused glance with Omir, who simply shrugged, before looking back at the customer. "Yes. Why?"
"It just reminded me of something I read somewhere once," said the Chromian. "Was the whole kingdom known for its copper, or was it just one guy's legacy?"
Ana spoke slowly, confused. "Well, the legends say that our founder was a copper merchant, yes, but the kingdom had been trading in it for quite a long time beforehand, so..."
The Chromian bounced on their heels, excited. "Like Ea-Nasir!"
Ana and Omir spoke in unison. "What?"
Someone else in line spoke up behind them. "Isn't that the guy who sold shitty copper?"
"What?"
"I didn't mean that," said the Chromian, turning around to face them. "I just brought it up because they were both desert kingdoms that sold copper. That's it."
Ana stood up slowly to look at the person in line behind the Chromian. "Are you implying that my copper is bad?" she asked. The Chromian glanced at her and swiftly backed out of the way.
"Adu omeku yogu," Omir muttered to himself.
Ana ignored him. The stranger shook their head. "No," they said, "I'm sure your copper's fine, but maybe the guy from the past sold shitty copper-"
"The Copper King," Ana interrupted, "did not earn his title by selling shitty copper."
The stranger froze. Ana continued. "The nation of Pixandria did not earn a reputation for metalworking by creating tools and art of poor quality," she growled.
The stranger blanched. "I'm sorry-" they started.
Ana cut them off with a wave of her hand. "Don't apologize," she said. "Leave."
They blinked. "But-"
"Go."
The stranger scuttled off. Ana sat back down with an annoyed sigh and the Chromian looked uncertainly from the direction the stranger had gone, back to her, then back and forth a few times.
Omir shook his head. "You let them off easier than I would've."
"So did I," said Ana with a shrug, "but I'm tired and I have business to conduct." She put on her best customer service smile for the Chromian and Omir snorted. "Anyways, what can I do for you?"
The Chromian blinked, unnerved by her apparent sudden change in mood. "Huh," they said hesitantly. "I always thought Pixandrians were..."
"Polite?" Ana offered. "Unassuming?"
The Chromian waved their hand, searching for a word. "Low-key."
"Oh, we are," said Ana with a smile. "Just not when someone insults our copper."
"Now that," said the Chromian with a firm nod, "is something I can get behind."
The next morning, Ana was sitting outside the candlemaker's shop, chatting with Omir before it opened. The sun had not yet risen, and the street was lit with lanterns that turned off automatically when it was bright enough out, an invention of the Goblanders.
Not many people were out this early in the morning. The people of Dawn were likely in their own houses preparing to await the rising of the sun, and everyone else was likely asleep, but there were a few bakers and cooks bustling about preparing for the daily rush of the morning crowd. Some of them called out to the coppersmith and candlemaker.
All familiar faces. Ana saw Rose, the baker, and Auburn, the florist, talking together. A parrot perched on a lamp pole. There was a stranger in sand-colored robes and sandals walking down the road slowly, looking at each shop in turn, but travelers were common in Sanctuary.
"But anyways," Omir was saying, "good luck with the traffic at your shop today."
"Thank you," said Ana. "I'm prepared for it, though." Truth be told, she'd produced several of her most popular items ahead of time to prepare for the store's increase in customers. It was just good practice. "What about you?"
"The candle shop is closed today," said Omir, leaning back. "A close friend of mine- a farmer in outer Dawn- his mother, fu omeku yogu. He has asked me to light her candle." (The stranger nearby looked at them quickly, startled.)
"Oh, no," said Ana, putting her hand over her heart. "Uki-mir piksandro."
Omir nodded. "I'll pass on your good wishes."
The stranger walked slowly closer. Ana, noticing, looked over at them. "Good morning," she said. "Are you lost?"
The stranger blinked.
"Can they hear us?" Ana asked Omir quietly.
"Maybe," Omir responded in the same tone. He lifted his hand and waved so that the stranger could clearly see it, then gestured towards himself and Ana. "We see you, friend. Do you need directions?"
The stranger blinked again, then took another hesitant step forwards. Their hair was brown and streaked with grey, their face well-lined with wrinkles. Their skin was well-tanned from decades of sun.
"Do you understand us?" Ana asked. Then, on a hunch, she repeated in Pixandrian, "Are you lost?"
The stranger's eyes widened and they stepped forwards again. "My home is the desert oasis," they replied. "I've come a long way since then." They paused. "Are you one of the Lightkeepers?"
"I am," said Ana. "I'm a coppersmith by trade."
"And I am a candlemaker," said Omir. He smiled warmly. "What about you, sailor? What stars guided you here?"
The Pixandrian blinked and shifted on their feet. "I… it matters not. I'm sorry. I've been away from my culture for a while and I haven't seen any of my people since." They paused. "I was starting to think there weren't any of us left."
Ana and Omir looked at each other in surprise, and then they both stood up in unison. "Well, we don't know where you've been, but that's definitely not true," said Ana, offering the stranger her hand. He took it gratefully. "There are so many of us." She paused. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes," said the stranger. "I do. I just… it's been a while since I've heard another voice speak my language aside from my own."
Ana nodded. "That makes sense. But here, let us show you around."
The sun rose above the treetops and people started to bustle around the streets. Ana showed the stranger around downtown Sanctuary and asked him a little about himself. She didn't catch his name, because every time she asked what it was, he just said the Pixandrian word for person, piksel, but she figured he might be running from something or someone, so she just named him Guy in her head and let it slide.
Omir told Guy about his family, who had lived here in Sanctuary for many generations now. Apparently, one of them had been a housekeeper for the Steward in Piksandros, the original Oasis, before being forced to flee the desert. Guy, who seemed to be quite knowledgeable about ancient Pixandrian history, was fascinated by this and asked Omir and Ana many questions about their traditions.
"I do wonder," he said at one point, "do you still take your sandals off outside the door?"
"Sandals?" asked Ana, confused.
"Sandals," repeated Guy, gesturing to his feet. "Foot coverings. You're wearing a pair right now."
"These aren't sandals, they're sneakers," said Ana. "But if you're talking about shoes in general, yeah, we still do that."
Guy paused to think about that for a moment. "Fascinating," he murmured to himself in English. "Even though there's no sand here to track inside."
"Oh!" said Ana. "Is that where that's from?"
"Yes," said Guy. "You take off your sandals outside the door so that the residents don't have to clean up the sand you track in."
"Nowadays we just do it to be polite," murmured Omir.