Alan
The Serendipity Square Market was especially radiant in the late afternoon. The sunlight was taking on less shine from the rays of day and softening into an arrangement of orange and pinks. The blush of a setting sun that would cast a kind of glossy film upon everything. It would enchant a building, turning their window glasses into luminary mirrors. The air would begin to cool and the breezes felt uninterrupted. The marketplace glimmered and dazzled within the reach of the golden hour. Patrons stilled buzzed at the stalls in their numbers, but the clamoring from the day's business hours had diminished. Alba liked it better this way. There was less elbows jabbing into their side, fewer out of depth tourists to shuffle around. It could have been worse. Alba could have ended up moonlighting at one of the many fine gambling establishments on the strip royale of Tychit's Gambit.

Orion had started to task the recently hired assistant to this area more often than not to run errands: inquiry about a certain items stock or to fetch a mystical property stone in bulk quantity for the metaphysical stores' downstair retail. It was a nice break from being inside the store, which didn't let in much organic light and was kept moody by various lanterns' glow. Alba liked looking around while en route. They liked when something caught their eye. And even though the crowds were daunting, the atmosphere of gathering bodies, their collective energies and engagement making it all so electric. It almost felt kinetic. And once Alba stepped out and was in the mix, they felt themselves open up, as if their chest expanded to take in more air. There was less tension between their eyes. The errand itself took no time at all. Alba had to drop off a few envelopes to different stall owners of the bazaar. They weren't told what for and they didn't ask. If they were to guess... Perhaps Orion was helping a few businesses get a leg up with his foresight. *If* They had to guess. There was one more note left to deposit and Alba had chewed off a little more time than they ought have becoming side tracked by marbled carved figurines of Fortuna. They began to put some pep into their step— leaving Orion to fend for himself at the shop could quickly dissolve into so much back work for them. Alba had already experienced an Orion dosed all nighter trying to rectifying some error or 'harmless oversight'. They had a habit of pinning their eyes to the ground in front of them, putting on blinders one could say, more or less making a bee line to the final stall and then right back to the store. They were progressing through the marketplace when they were abruptly snagged back.

The sleeve of their knit jumper caught on the edge of something. Alba budged, trying to rip their arm back but the material was well caught on. It took a hefty tug to free Alba, but it was just as uncoordinated as it had been effective. " Ah*Shit*...!" Alba was knocked off center and damn near body checked the person that had been innocently existing in the background nearby.
Maria
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*In the centre of the crowded Bazaar, Zosar stood tall and unmoving like a solitary tree trunk emerging from the depths of a mortal river. His striking features remained unnervingly catatonic as the flowing current of human bodies were forced to either step around his towering figure or collide with a flesh-wall of lean muscle. He paid no mind to the throng of verbal affronts that were aimed in his direction. Nor did he react to the condescending scoffs of agitated customers who were simply trying to get from Point A to Point B without some asshole hindering their path. Despite the unintended road-block he'd caused, the Egyptian appeared to be wholly disconnected from the reality everyone else seemed to be cognitively a part of. His hazel eyes were glazed over, his hands curled into fists at his sides, as a rogue afternoon squall suddenly ripped through the plaza, causing the young man's chocolate curls to dance.*

*He inhaled sharply. Nostrils flaring as the influx of frosty air stung his lungs in bitter necessity.*

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*It had been a long time since Zosar had visited the Serendipity Market Square, and regardless of his familiarity with the place; it felt nothing but foreign now. Once upon a time, the Demi-God had maundered through the myriad of eclectic stalls with a boyish grin plastered from ear to ear and a best friend in arm, to wreak havoc with. In recent months, however, his smile had all but vanished and as for Hektor... Well, he'd made his choice. Zeus' Champion hung his head in silent defeat, his breath unsteady as he exhaled the angst which still plagued his disposition without any signs of remit. The war had been taxing on everyone, yet Zosar could not condone the treacherous behaviour of any individual who had actively partaken in, and supported Poseidon's pitiful attempt at a coup. That acrid sentiment was irrespective of how desperately he missed having someone to share his experiences with. Glancing up, the young man attempted to kick his introspection to the curb and focus on the reason he found himself here again. He needed a statue; a specific one, a miniature version of his King upon a throne. By no means was the idol a rarity, and yet, for some reason, the Son of Zelus had struggled to find it.*

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*Striding over to one of the vendors, Zosar casually ignored the owner's ridiculous propositions and 'deals' that were incessantly shouted into his face, as he browsed the collection of goods stacked precariously close to the table's edge. Having grown up in Luxor, the Demi-God found this particular type of interaction almost comforting. His mother, Wesam used to drag him to the local market every Sunday, compelling the young child to politely disregard anyone that sought to distract him from the task at hand. Thanks to that early life lesson, the Egyptian was incredibly good at blocking out the unnecessary bleeting of the money-hungry traders. Keenly scoping out all of the little marble figurines that were set up on display, the Champion sorted through the piles of tit and tat until he finally found the effigy he was looking for. An inkling of a smile tugged at the corner of the man's lips, as he handed the palm-sized model over to the seller, so they could wrap it securely for him.*

*Just as the cash was swiped from his clutches, Zosar suddenly found himself being body slammed by a random individual with, evidentiary, terrible balance. Of course, being as tall and sturdy as he was, the contact posed little threat to the Champion's own equilibrium. The Demi-God adjusted his footing with a practised fluidity that stemmed from years of physical pedagogy and managed to effortlessly intervene.*

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** "Wow there!"** *He exclaimed, using his chest as a fail-safe, the Egyptian's hands immediately grabbing onto the person's shoulders, securing them in-situ mid-fall so that they wouldn't continue their unceremonious descent to the earth below. Even with all the inertia at their back, the individual weighed practically nothing, and so it took literally zero effort for Zosar to gently push the being back onto the balls of their own feet. He would not let go of their collar bone, however, until he was positive they'd re-centred themselves.*

** "Are you okay?"** *Zosar queried, his tone riddled with subtle concern, managing to get a proper look at the person he'd just rescued from a long night of laundry, based on the state of the ground beneath their feet. While the Champion wasn't entirely sure of their identity, he was absolutely certain he'd run into them before. But where, escape him completely. His brows furrowed in partial recognition, his expression twisted into a leery grimace as he instantly retracted his touch and took a distanced step backwards.*

** "Wait-...Do I know you?"**
Beckie
There was nothing extraordinary about the impact. They fell, they were caught, steadied by heavy hands that clasped over their shoulder firmly through the material of their layers and ushered them back in a more upright position. Compared to the other, Alba was modest in stature, on the lankier side. They had been gaunt as a child but that was because for a time their diet had consisted of literal nuts and berries ( and, when things had been more dire, critters of a certain kind). Alba felt disoriented, or thrown off in more ways than one. Admittedly, a touch embarrassed. The demigod ran their hands over their front, smoothing down their sleeves then quickly decided to start tucking them. They were ready to move on alarmingly fast without even acknowledging the person who had intercepted their ungainly actions, wanting to retreat back to the shop two fold (*Make haste!*) likely to sit behind the counter and sulk, replaying the moment in their head until the next break for a cigarette. 

Alba's face burned, flaring up in a show of sheepishness, though the way their brows pinched towards each other and their jaw clenched, they ultimately just appeared uncomfortable.

*Recalibrating... Recalibrating...* Alba was seconds from turning on heel and darting away. But they stopped, yanked out of their internal dissonance to what was going on right then and there, out of the reach of their bloated self conscious ruminations. They looked up at the young woman. He was tall, statuesque, standing right in a golden strip of setting sunlight. He did have a distinguished look, a jawline that would do good on a poster. But **Who** He was, or just as importantly, what he was, did not reveal itself to Alba right away. Their recollection for most things was choppy. It felt like whiplash, going from instant into the next; they didn't know if they had the spoons to assemble the social prowess it took to beam at an acquaintance you just so happen to run into on the street at this time. Their thoughts and attention bounced between the store, being a klutz, and Orion *And* The store. But it would be rude to just run away. Probably worse than sticking around and putting them both through a few moments of painstaking awkwardness. They looked at him as he bore down his gaze. He didn't necessarily look happy to see them as the seconds dragged on, if they were to know each other to know each other somehow. Naturally Alba mimicked his expression, taking a step back, too when his hands finally fell away from their small shoulders. Why was he making that kind of face... They didn't want to be looked at like that.

Do I know you... They took a moment to give a thorough look over. His face was that of many in a flash pan of memories. "**Maybe**," They decided to answer. "**Are you a fortune seeker?**" But it could have been before being hired at The Celestial Pavilion. But not before Olympian. Alba had been a ghost, the shell of a person before here, back then, when turmoil had been at its height and they had discovered through blight and mortal suffering about Gods and Goddesses. "You're a warrior," They said, speaking intuitively. Behind the man, the stall owner was chirping sounds, trying to get his attention for the purchase he had just made. Alba's gaze turned from a shaky glance to openly stare at him. Were they imagining an aura—hallucinating before lunch? " Are you a Champion..."