[Rannoch, Kassali] Here's to the Harvest.

Well... She did tell you her name...

Lear fidgeted a little, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Lear'Kaus" Lear's attention was once more pulled to the dancer. She was good at what she did, and Lear wondered if she'd done thus before. "Sometimes I go by "vas Hybrid", "vas Agnon", or "vas Kolosya", but I don't really like that part... Where you live shouldn't define who you are... But, when I have to use it, I'll usually use "vas Kolosya"... Had some good memories on that ship, wherever it and it's crew may be these days." Lear thought about what she said, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You'll get used to it, don't worry. Galaxy's a big place... I used to dream about having my own ship and visiting every star and planet that I could... But now? I'd rather stick to what I know. Too many unknowns out there."

Leeta held her breath, studying Lear's reaction to her name out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise, he didn't seem nearly as awkward as most people did upon hearing where she lived. The patronizing and pitying tones had been something she had had to become accustomed to, but Lear just carried on; introducing himself and watching the dancer. She smiled broadly behind her visor and nodded as he spoke. This was pleasant, she decided. It wasn't every day that she met one of her own kind that she could engage in casual conversation with. Always talking about work wasn't the most exciting thing in the world to talk about. "I still would like the opportunity to explore, eventually...but now that we have we home planet it seems like a strange desire, and I do have duties that keep me on the Citadel." She straightened as she spoke, squaring her shoulders. "I feel it is important for us as a people to maintain a useful status in the galaxy. Isolating ourselves here won't do anyone any good."

Milai's sudden withdrawal notwithstanding, Jil'Korah found himself in much the same situation as before - two quarians vaguely off to one side of the festivities. This time, however, he might have found the one person even less comfortable than he was. Even less stylish, too, though maybe on some ships the 'tasi' look was in. Eh, whatever. No harm in being friendly.

"It's really something. Not sure how authentic it is-" almost immediately Ensemble piped up, playing what may have been an authentic visual record of quarians dancing under the stars "-but I guess that's the point, really. Reconciling the past with the present, philosophical stuff like that. Not really my specialty, to be honest."

There was a pop and a burst of something in the distance, and a moment later something streaked off into the sky to the cheers of the audience. It was one of the more unexpectedly pleasant things about Rannoch, the sky - people tended to assume that the vacuum of space served much the same purpose, psychologically, but as it turned out that couldn't be farther from the truth. Quarians saw skies, obviously - away missions, on pilgrimage, scouting vessels, all sorts of opportunities, but those were always places with purpose. To simply sit and gaze into the sky, day or night, with no pressing concerns or reason to be moving on... It was an experience. One Jil imagined would only be amplified by the feel of the wind brushing across his face.

...And that right there was why he didn't spend much time on Rannoch. It was impossible to enjoy without knowing what he was missing out on, and he wanted that 'coming home' shock to be as authentic as possible. Short trips it was, at least until his immune system had been partially restored. If he could pull in enough money with The Band to retire to the homeworld at a ripe young age, so much the better.

"Do you live on Rannoch?"

The young fellow just listened quietly, feet shuffling now and then, eyes flicking here and there about the festival grounds. One might mistake this for distraction or outright inattentiveness at first glance, perhaps laced with a bit of twitchy paranoia. However, no sooner did Jil finish that the lad piped up again, gaze still averted, "I know that there's been a couple teams in Kassali combing archives with the Collective, looking for records and footage of celebrations and stuff. It was pretty intact after the first war, so they must have figured their chances of finding some reference material were pretty good."

He peered at one arm, absently picking grime out of a groove in the suit, "Think I did hear about them finding some things, come to think of it. Probably where the idea for the festival came from, though I dunno about the dancing." Well, it was safe to say he was oblivious to the presence of the geth, considering he was a few steps behind Ensemble at this point. "But yeah, I think the-" The young quarian visibly flinched as the firework went off, but quickly recovered, not turning to watch the display as he continued, "I think the Kassali captains just want to try stuff out and see what catches."

Finally falling silent at that, Atem glanced over towards the setting sun, and shuffled to put his back to it. Didn't like looking at those colours, even tried to end shifts so that he'd be going home at night, or during the middle of the say. Odd behaviour, sure, but at least no one bothered to question it. It was fine so long as he did his job. Wasn't...

Calm. Calm. He took a quiet, shaky breath, reining in his thoughts before they could take off down that particular tangent. Focus on the moment. This wasn't so bad, so far. The other guy was willing to talk with him, and despite being leery of chatting with other people, he was falling into old habits. Just babbling away, volunteering way more info than was probably warranted or appreciated, but carrying on all the same. Maybe the captain and doc were right, and he just needed to remind himself that he could actually deal with people outside of work... At least once in a while.

Jil's next question jerked Atem from his thoughts, blinking at the older quarian, "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. In the city, actually," he gestured vaguely in Kassali's direction, "been planetside for, uh... I guess a year now." There was a slight pause at that, the lad staring blankly at the ground, before twitching his attention back to Jil, "Oh, sorry. Atem'Xyndos," a weathered glove was jerkily extended, faint hesitance in his movements, "KASSGrid, maintenance block 110."

He shouldn't be here.

The thought kept coming back into his mind. He had a task at hand, time spent elsewhere was time wasted. But he was running low on supplies, and his luck hadn't been any better. This was out of necessity only.

He did his best to remind himself that as soon as he approached the outskirts of the party and caught sight of the Geth. He put every fiber of discipline to use to not turn around then, while still maintaining as vast a distance between himself and every unit that came into sight. There was a peace, yes, but the last he saw he hadn't been ordered to love the abominations.

He must have surely stuck out from all the festive colors surrounding him, being in a drab utilitarian envirosuit worn down by desert winds. But he'd never favored himself an expert in the latest fashions, and his purpose these days meant he never entertained the thought. Despite this, he did his best to just slip into the crowd and become just one more visor in the midst. Get what he needed and leave.

And yet, as he passed the dancers he paused. A sudden urge to join in quickly hit him, and passed as quickly. One look down at his left leg was enough to seal the deal. Normal enough as it looked outside the suit, inside was a mangled wreck that would leave him looking vastly out of place amongst the others.

Still though, there would be no harm in watching the festivities. For a moment or two.

"You're a sweetie, Raeta, being nice to an old woman like me."  

Chael patted Raeta's hand as she glanced up, the brillant purple and red of the most recent firework reflecting on her visor.  She fell silent for a second, staring up into the night sky.

"Walk an old woman to see the fala fields?" 

---

"Can we mom? Please?" 

And, just like that, all Beeator's pretending at being "Mr. Tough Guy" melted away.   His mother smiled a wicked grin behind her mask, folding her arms in mock uncertainty. 

"Well, hm, I don't know.  Hm, maybe, but you haven't exactly been the most well behaved child tonight.  Hmmmm..."

"Mom! PLEASE?". One could almost feel the puppy eyes beaming out from behind Beeator's visor.  

"Oh, okay." Beeator's mother caved, hugging her son before taking a serious tone.  "But I expect you to be on your best behavior and to listen to both me and Raiga." 

Beeator's mother stood, dusting off her suit.  "Thank you.  Sometimes I worry about how much time that kid spends alone. He's got whole worlds up in that head of his, but... Well, he has some trouble making friends."

"I'm Avali, by the way.  So, what brings you out to Kassali?" Avali asked, making her ways towards the main celebration, the crescendo of music muffled  behind the crowd of quarians who had joined in the dance.  "Are you on the agricultural rotation?" 

---

The stranger might have wanted to just exist in the crowd, unnoticed and stoic, but this was a quarian celebration in full swing.  It was as if all the pent up hopes and dreams and excitement of every quarian who had experienced the hardships of flotilla life had burst free into this moment.  There was no stopping it.

Every second more quarians joined in on the dance and the crowd grew, threatening to engulf the stranger.  But just as he was about to be overcome by the dancing mob, the music ended, the last echoes of the drums disappearing into the night.  

As the cheers died down and the laughing conversation resumed, a young woman emerged from the crowd and stopped next to the stranger. The brightly colored fabric draped over her suit marked her as the dancer who had started the celebration and, even through her voice filter, it was obvious she was panting for air. 

"What a night, huh!?" She asked enthusiastically. 

---

It was about this time that Milai returned, carrying three nutripaste containers and three of, well, something else.

"Here." Milai said as he handed one of each to the two men, a proud sort of cheer in his voice.  "It a fala and, uh, some sort of meat based paste.  Supposed to be delicious. And this," Milai held the second tube into the air, "Is turian cana.  It's flavor is about as subtle as a turian general, but should help you relax a bit, yeah?"

Meanwhile, there was a man who simply kept to himself.

His suit was freshly cleaned, a black and purple affair, the visor matching his secondary color, and a shawl covering his left shoulder down to his midsection. He didn't say much, and he seemed to mostly drift through the crowds - something any quarian would grow adept at, considering the environments they had to go through. The festivities, the sort he thought he'd never see from his people, had admittedly been soured a small bit by the geth, but at least the synthetics seemed to keep their distance from him.

Currently, the quarian simply sat and watched the fireworks, a small smile growing on his lips. Even if Rannoch wasn't the dream world he hoped it would be, at the very least his people seemed to be enjoying themselves. And really, after such a turbulent event as a galaxy spanning war against a genocidal machine race, he felt the quarians had earned some happiness.

Kenec'Getha wouldn't stay for long after the celebrations had ended. No reason to stay. But at the very least, he could enjoy the homeworld of his people for just a small while.

"Keelah se'lai."

"Oh I'm sure he is just a late bloomer is all" Ragia said, watching the two children talk to each other. "Tualni herself gets oddly quiet and withdrawn from time to time. I think it's just the suit blues that we all got when we were children."

Ragia looked and smiled at Avali. She had quickly warmed up to the other quarian mother and was glad she had taken up her offer. It would be good to talk to someone since her husband was elsewhere and she doubted she would be able to find any of her friends in such a large crowd of quarians.

"We live here, actually. But no, I don't work on the crops. I worked in a nursery back on the Fleet and that is still my job on Rannoch. someone has to watch the children while everyone else is working."

She chuckled a little.

"What about you, Avali?"

The quarian felt a wave of relief wash over him as the dancers receded. The last thing he needed to do was make a fool out of himself in front of a massive crowd. There was no need to draw attention to himself, all he had to do was get back to moving on through.

Until the one dancer started talking to him. He made a quick glance around to ensure it was actually him she was talking to. He silently reminded himself that this was why taking the time to enjoy the sights usually backfired. Still, he might as well make the best of it.

“Yes,” he offered. “Quite the, ah, display.”

He’d always been one for words. He supposed it would be best to engage in some customary small talk before extricating himself. Gesturing towards her bright fabrics he added, “A hobby of yours, I take it?”

"I'd be honored" Raeta said as she walked alongside the older quarian, the sparks from the fireworks reflecting off from her visor.

"So, how have Mother and Father been? I've been meaning to pay them a visit since I got here."