Sightseeing has never been this illegal (DAVON AND MELODY)

A lot had happened in the week since Davon and Melody had last been in Erast. Most importantly, Davon’s conversation with agent Grimes earlier that week and the very real opportunity he had to be transferred. Which, of course he was going to take – the real dilemma was how to break the news to Melody that he was leaving their sector. The worst part was that she couldn’t come with – least not without the approval of the officials – but this was his dream come true. But after the disaster that was the check up that monday, he didn’t know how to break the news. Nor when. Melody and him had scarcely seen each other since monday and this wasn’t the type of thing you just said in casual conversation to a dear friend. Besides, Davon couldn’t help but worry about the health of his friend. But as the week moved along, Melody seemed perfectly like her normal self, at least what little he had seen of her. That put him at ease and confirmed his suspicion that this was the result of malfunctioning equipment or professional incompetence and not the end of his best friend's career. Of course it wasn’t: Melody wasn’t like the sort of people who got discharged. He had decided not to stress about it, then, because Melody was fine.

As for now, they had a lead to follow up on.
“You can pick ‘em up by the market Thursday next week. Ask for Lorraine at the booth.”


As expected, it hadn’t been hard to locate files referring to illegal trading within Erast. Another hour of research and there it had been, clear references to a market located in a square somewhere deep in the heart of Erast. As for the time remaining unspecified, they would just have to assume that the trade would happen around the same time as their first meeting. It was a long shot, but so was even overhearing the conversation to start with.

So, that Thursday, braving the occassional rain shower and gust of wind, the pair once again ventured into the slums of Erast. And exactly as described, they found a bustling market in the square outside an old abandoned church. And what Davon had not expected was the sheer size of it. A hoard of make-shift tents and stalls, even inside the old brick building, rows and rows cowered up with large colorful pieces of cloth and the surrounding buildings laid space to shops that tried to lure in the bustling crowd from the market. Colors and foreign scents were all around, even almost drowning out the stench that was Erast by its mind-numbing strength. The wares ranging from banned books, to food, to zeals and even illegal substances being sold out in the open. It seemed even the criminals could come together and sell their stuff – or, if the distant yelling and ear-shattering loud noise of hustling was anything to go by, this place was far from peaceful. From the ominous signage claiming this space to be reclaimed by the people of Erast, to the graffiti lining the wall, big bold letter across the old church facade reading “fuck the GW-pigs”, Davon started to question if coming here alone had been a bad idea. At least his get-up was less noticeably of quality this time. To Davon’s surprise, Jordan had been more than willing to share what sorry excuse he had for fashion. It gave him reason to pause. What would these people do if the pair got caught? He glanced at Melody. But they had come here for a reason. He leaned in and whispered, as to not be overheard:
“If you were selling mattresses illegally, where would you place your booth?”

Melody. Was. So. Excited.

It wasn’t that she had had a life-long dream of going to the black market. She hadn’t even considered that she would ever get to see such a place. But the second she knew they were going, she had been so excited to see such an infamous place. She had had nothing else but this trip on her mind.

Okay, that wasn’t true. Something else had been on her mind again. That ‘something else’ being her worst nightmare gradually becoming a reality.

But with that ‘something else’ on her mind, it was nice to get distracted by something else entirely. And distracting, it was, to her over-joyous delight.

The black market had a misleading name. The market was swamped with colors, from the multi-colorful tents to the  abundances of different items to all the different types of people with expressive style and attitudes. In Melody’s opinion, it was downright beautiful. If one could tune out the clearly highly criminal transactions happening in plain sight.

Her heart raced. Thrills surged through her veins. Her fingers tingled whenever she reached out for whatever she dared to touch on their way through the market, whether it be a coarse rug or a jar of smooth pebbles - she was tempted to touch the more strange-looking stuff like the arrangement of zeals or the ominous looking black wood bark that she was sure must be a new type of drug, the GW’s were yet to realize was in circulation.

And the market matched her energy - bustling with sensory experiments of all kind, from the vibrant colors, to the overlapping noise, even a bundle of foreign smells, some more offensive to the nose than others, masking the typical smell of Erast, that Melody had come to learn was a not-so-charming characteristic of this part of the city. Being in here, surrounded by such levels of energy, Melody became a part of the world around her. In here, it made perfect sense how her heart and veins were vibrating. And with so much happening around her, it was very easy for her to pretend that they hadn’t been vibrating non-stop for the last week or so.

She had just eyed the same anti-GW graffiti that had made Davon stop, not really connecting the dots the same way her friend probably did, as she right now felt more as a part of the market than as a Godia Warrior, when Davon spoke to her. She had to physically stop herself from giggling by biting down on her lower lip. She was standing next to Davon, but one could not call it standing still. Her legs were jiggling slightly, her eyes darting from one stimulation to another, her index finger tapping eagerly on her thigh.

She did hear his question though, and while thinking out loud, she hummed: “Hmmm… probably close to a street connecting to one of the roads, right?” She turned her head to look at Davon, a smile dancing on her lips. “Wouldn’t wanna have to drag heavy mattresses all the way across the market.”

Not waiting for - or at least not listening to - Davon’s reply, she grabbed his hand and pulled at his arm. She ignored how electricity jolted between them and stung her fingers and how it surely wasn’t Davon’s fault it happened. “Let’s go check!” she said and started dragging him deeper into the market to get to the other side of it.

“I think you’re right,” he nodded, seriously. “Alright. First things first, we should make a pla-” 
he didn’t get to say more before she had grabbed his hand and dragged him deeper into the market, clearly not listening – or simply not caring for Davon’s plan to make a plan. He let out a “ouch” when Melody shocked him, but she barely seemed to have noticed. He bit back his worries, telling himself that she had it under control, even though she did seem extra hyper today. But she was just like that sometimes. It was just her personality and there was nothing to worry about. The nurse was wrong, his friend was totally fine. If she weren’t, Davon would know and they wouldn’t be here today, because that would be irresponsible of both of them.

Melody dragged the pair through the crowded market, everything going by too fast to really process everything. A spice vendor, bartering with a customer in sternian, the kind of passionate tone where it was hard to tell if they were lifelong friends or about to get in a fist fight – given the location they were in, Davon assumed the latter. A booth with cages and cages of pigeons and exotic birds of all colors. The ominous hooded men handing out flyers for, well, Davon would rather not consider what that was about. Colors and scents and sounds flashing by in a whirlwind, so fast that they almost missed it completely.

He stopped, pulling Melody back and pointing to a booth in the furthermost corner, connected to an old beat up building, madrasses lined up by the entrance, ready to be picked up. “There. That has to be it.”

He turned to Melody, grabbing her by the shoulders before she had a chance to beeline for the booth – because he had a feeling she was going to.

“We need a plan here,” he asserted seriously – if he was going to transfer to sector 11, he needed to be absolutely sure he had clues worth sharing, after all – leaning in so that no one would overhear. “We need more info. And we need a cover. Any ideas? Are we with the EFA?”

The creative aspect of coming up with a believable alias and backstory had always been much more of Melody’s strong-suit than it was Davon’s – who could barely even come up with a fake name. He looked at her, expectedly, waiting for that genius brain of hers to work its magic.

It was so wonderful to just go, go, go. All the colors and sights and energy flying by, not a moment to breathe and realize you’re choking. Every fiber of her being came alive and for the first time in weeks it didn’t feel like it was too much.

But then, it came to a halt. Literally - Davon pulled her back, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She stopped, achingly so, half-turned towards him with one foot forward. Like a lighting bolt ready to shoot, her gaze followed Davon’s finger. Her eyes widened. Mattresses. That must be it!

She was ready to dash towards it when Davon grabbed her by the shoulders, preventing her from jumping ahead. Her skin buzzed under his touch, almost stinging her. Her heart pounded in her chest. See, this was why she shouldn’t stand still. Panic had already begun to creep in, but she pushed it away by shaking her legs and focusing intensely on the market lights reflecting in Davon’s glasses while he talked.

A plan, yes, they needed a plan, he was right. More info, a cover, yes. Did she have any ideas? Were they with the EFA? Oh! Yes! Melody’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Totally!” she exclaimed and then instantly lowered her voice to an excited whisper. “What was the name of that guy again? The third party man, who ordered the mattresses? Dave, right?” She didn’t give Davon room to answer before proposing her idea. “We’ll say that we’re from the EFA, here to pick up the mattresses he ordered. Oh, shoot, what was the name of the woman we were supposed to ask for then?”

Her eyes flickered as she tried remembering it but her mind was blank - both foggy and a whirlwind.

Melody seemed ready to dash off any moment, practically vibrating with energy. It wasn’t like him, but part of him was getting worried for her, a feeling in his gut that something wasn’t quite right. She agreed to him with a loud exclaim and Davon’s eyes widened, bringing his finger to his lip and shushing her. Excitement was clear in her voice, even as she whispered. Perhaps Davon was worried for no reason – she was probably just hyper, because she was excited about the mission.

“Dave, ye–” Davon didn’t get to finish before she continued. He raised a brow at the way her eyes flickered when she finally came to a stop. “Lorraine.” He filled her in, brows furrowing. He paused. Her flickering, unfocused eyes, something seemingly stirring inside her. Would she be up to this? She had to be, because this was their one shot at following up on this lead. For a moment he considered if he should check in if she was okay, but in the end decided that the mission was more important – he could check in after. She was a responsible woman. She had it under control.


“So we’re representatives of the EFA sent by Dave.” He stopped for a moment, thinking. They couldn’t be here to pick up the mattresses, because they couldn’t take them with them. It was only the two of them and they had no way of transporting them – and furthermore, had no use of them. “We can't bring the mattresses with us, though. Someone else will come to pick them up later. We’re just here to make sure everything is in order. How does that sound?”