Rain fell softly across the cobblestone streets, shimmering beneath the glow of iron streetlamps. Traverse Town was quiet, but alive — the kind of stillness that hummed with distant music, whispering through alleyways and open windows. Golden halos pooled under each lamp, their reflections rippling in puddles as the group made their way through the First District.
Helga's eyes swept the surroundings with a soldier's precision. The air here was dense, heavy with the scent of oil, smoke, and faint traces of magic. Mechanical gears turned somewhere in the distance, their rhythm echoing faintly through the rain. She found herself staring up at the massive clock tower looming above the rooftops — a structure of brass and stone, its hands ticking toward eternity.
"Industrial," she muttered under her breath, taking in the steam vents and iron grates. "Efficient. I like it more than Olympus."
Circe, on the other hand, was utterly captivated by the color and motion. Her golden eyes reflected the glow of shop windows — displays of polished trinkets, glowing stones, and curious mechanical creatures whirring softly behind glass. Somewhere nearby, a café terrace played faint music, the scent of warm pastries cutting through the chill air.
"Oh, but this is divine," she said, spinning once beneath her umbrella. "Dreary, yes — but it sings. The gloom here has personality."
Helga smirked faintly. "Only you would call that a compliment."
Circe shot her a teasing glance. "You'd call it futuristic, wouldn't you? So dull."
Kurai walked slightly ahead of them, her expression unreadable. "Keep your voices down," she said simply. "This world has darkness hiding all over the place."
Helios, walking at the front of the group, didn't look back. "She's right. Stay close — we're not here to explore. Just to visit some old friends."
Rain pattered softly on the stone as they crossed the plaza. A large fountain stood at the center, its crystal waters glowing faintly blue under the lamps. The faint chatter of townsfolk — survivors of forgotten worlds — drifted through the mist. Each passerby carried the same hollow weariness, as if this twilight city had become their final refuge.
Helios stopped in front of a small shop tucked beneath a lamplit awning. Its sign — a little wooden plaque carved with curling letters — read Moogle Workshop. Warm golden light spilled through the windows, illuminating the rain that fell just outside.
"This is it," he said quietly, pushing open the door.
The bell above the entrance chimed, and immediately a chorus of squeaky voices cried out:
"Helios, kupo! You're back!"
Three Moogles darted into view. The first was impeccably dressed — a tiny creature in a Victorian suit, a monocle perched on her nose. Its fur was snow-white, its pom-pom glowing faintly pink. The other two — younger and less refined — scrambled around the Victorian Moogle, one carrying a pile of cloth, the other clutching a bundle of thread.
"Look at you, kupo! And look at what you brought!" The Victorian Moogle fluttered up to Helios's face, tapping its monocle. "That aura — ah, but you've been busy, haven't you?"
Helios reached into his coat and withdrew a small satchel. When he opened it, the faint glow of synthesis materials spilled into the room — shards, gems, and crystals of every hue, glittering like captured starlight. The Moogles gasped in unison, their tiny wings flapping furiously.
"Blazing shards! Lucid stones! So many of them, kupo!"
"This'll last us for months! Maybe years!"
"We'll be able to make everything! Oh, Helios, you shouldn't have, kupo!"
Helios smiled faintly, setting the satchel on the counter. "A promise is a promise. You said you needed more, and here they are."
The Victorian Moogle dabbed at her eye dramatically. "So sentimental! Such a gentleman! Truly, the finest of patrons."
Kurai muttered from the doorway, "You're laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?"
The Moogle turned, offended. "Excuse me, 'Miss Glare', this is called gratitude. You should try it sometime."
Circe burst into laughter. "Oh, I like this creature."
The smaller Moogles began sorting the materials, stacking gems in neat little trays. One of them looked up eagerly. "What'll it be this time, kupo? Potions? Armor? Accessories?"
Helios shook his head. "Not now. There are quite a lot of materials to inventory, so I'll let you guys do that first. I would like to make a small request, though."
The Victorian Moogle adjusted its monocle. "Oh? Do tell."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward Helga and Circe. "They'll need new outfits. Something less… conspicuous."
Circe's eyes widened, then sparkled with delight. "Oh, how wonderful! I was starting to think you'd never notice. Fashion is a girl's best armor after all."
Helga frowned. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
Helios arched an eyebrow. "You'll stand out way too much in the place we'll be heading to. Besides, the clothes they make here are magical and can repair themselves. We don't have time to be looking for new clothes after every battle."
Circe laughed. "He's right, darling. You and I both look like we walked out of an ancient painting compared to the residents of this world. I am also fascinated by magical clothes."
The Moogles squeaked in excitement, already pulling out measuring tape and fabrics. "Outfits for newcomers, kupo! Don't worry, we'll make you look magnificent!"
Circe struck a pose dramatically, one hand on her hip. "Make it elegant, dangerous, and just a bit scandalous."
Helga muttered under her breath, "Give her a muzzle instead."
Circe grinned, unbothered. "Oh, you'd look divine in some revealing leather and steel. So very you."
The Victorian Moogle clapped its tiny hands. "Ideas! Inspiration! I see it now — sleek lines, dark tones, a bit of sparkle, kupo!"
Helga exhaled through her nose, muttering, "I already regret this."
As the Moogles set to work, the shop filled with warmth — the rhythmic hum of sewing machines, the faint scent of cloth and magic thread mingling in the air. Rain pattered softly outside, a distant piano melody drifting in from the café across the plaza.
Skuld and Aqua sat by the window, watching as the tailors worked. Aqua smiled faintly, whispering, "It's been a long time since I've seen this place with you."
Skuld nodded. "Feels… almost like a lifetime ago."
Helios stood by the counter, speaking quietly with the Victorian Moogle about upcoming shipments and materials, while Kurai lingered in the corner, eyes half-lidded but attentive.
Circe twirled in front of a mirror as a Moogle tried to take her measurements. "Careful, darling, that tickles."
Helga sighed, deadpan. "If she moves any more, you can use a net so that we can hurry it up."
"Don't tempt me," the Moogle grumbled.
A moment passed — laughter, chatter, the sound of life returning in small, fleeting bursts.
Outside, the rain eased into a fine mist. Light from the shop windows spilled across the cobblestones, golden against the eternal night.
Inside, the sewing machines hummed, laughter echoing faintly in the background warmly.