“Fairies are benevolent creatures,” Lethe murmured indignantly, “I would never concern myself with petty theft! I require your help just as much as I require the help of these two.” She motioned toward the Chilfos with little regard as to whether or not the girl could see Cain… or whether or not Cain wanted to be seen. “You’re help may be even more valuable, actually,” she said, as if talking to herself, “Considering neither of them are even human…. Well, it doesn’t matter. Either way, as an inhabitant of Hyrule, I should think you’ll be rather keen on lending an ear when I say life as we know it is at risk of coming to a terrible end.” She circled the girl, observing, or rather, judging her, looking quite obviously perplexed by her choice of clothing as a Gerudo. Now wasn’t the time to talk of such things, however. So she continued, “I’m searching for some other people that are kind of like you…. Well… not exactly like you. You may share some things in common with them, but other than that…. She stopped circling Vei and floated in front of her face, small dainty hands on small dainty hips, “Whatever. Are you in or not, kid? That’s all I need to know.” --- Cutting someone’s bulging wallet full of rupees was hardly subtle. Indeed, several people attempted to snatch their share as the rupees scattered across the crowded festival street. A young man with bright orange-red hair and a large forest green poncho began yanking people away from the fallen stash in an effort to help. “Get out of here! What’s wrong with y’all?! Ain’t you got any sense?! Get!” The ranch hand easily launched several greedy juveniles several feet away until the rest of the opportunistic nicks got the picture and scattered. The damage had unfortunately been done and a whopping 8,454 rupees were now scattered amongst the crowd in various different pockets. “I saw it all happen from over at ma’ booth,” the young man said, gesturing to a large, extravagant booth with the words ‘Lon Lon Ranch’ engraved upon the sign in large gold lettering, “Sorry for yer loss,” he said, helping Jira pick up the remaining rupees, “I saw yer dancin’ gig-- pretty funny stuff! I’m impressed you were able to convince so many people to do it! Even ma’ lil’ sis was beggin’ me to take her out there.” A small red-headed girl barely four feet high sat on a tall stool behind the booth, hiding half of her face in what at first glance seemed to be a stuffed animal, but was really a Cuccoo. She watched Jira timidly; further burying her face in the body of her Cuccoo the more he looked her way. “Hope you didn’t lose too much. What a slimeball that guy was! I got a good look at’im though. Shady lookin’ cloaked feller with red eyes. He looked kinda like one o’ them Shiekah, but they’re supposed to be law abidin’ folk so maybe he was somethin’ else… I dunno… oh! Name’s Matt, by the way.” The talkative ginger extended his hand for a hand shake. --- A fellow Shiekah Izzaz did indeed call… although perhaps not ones he wished to see. [youtube]NGPOjOdKDZA[/youtube] A loud snap and a flash of light exploded between the two squabbling men, driving them both backwards and away from each other as two young spindly persons, a man and a woman, stood between them, each with a single index finger pressed lightly upon each man’s chest. “Whooo is that I hear? Whistling the Shiekah’s sacred tune so carelessly?” the young man hissed jauntily, facing Kaiver with a laughing smile. “Why! I do believe it’s our very old friend [i]Izzaz… the deserter,[/i]” the young woman cooed back, facing Izzaz with a cold dead-eyed stare that seemed to starkly contrast her vivacious voice. The Rova Twins. Emesta Rova, the eldest, possessed the same long, lithe frame as her brother, with the smallest exception of a slightly more feminine curve and bust. Her stark white hair was long and tied with gold and black ribbon into two separate parts at the ends, falling just between her shoulder blades with thick bangs shading her bright red eyes and framing her very pale face. Edwyn Rova, the youngest, looked much the same. His stark white hair was long and tied with gold ribbon into a single part at the end with a thick gold and black bandana shading his bright red eyes and white painted marking framing his pale face. The two were rarely seen out of sync when it came to their movements and especially their outfits. Both wore long black leggings with shining black greaves and boots. Up top, each wore a black tunic with a mandarin neckline, tied with a gold rope just above the naval and with long bell sleeves, intricately embroidered with gold thread at the ends. A gold symbol of the Eye of Truth was engraved upon each of their greaves as well as the back of their black gloves. 19 year old Shiekah prodigies—and children of Marie Rova, a revered instructor of the Shiekah arts as well as a prudish zealot… or devoted saint, to whomever it may concern. In Izzaz’s case… she was a distant cousin. The old woman, pushing 50 now, much like Izzaz, was as strict as they come and had little patience for Shiekah who didn’t fall in line… a trait she passed on to her children, who seemed to derive much pleasure from mocking those who don’t do as they supposedly ought to. “What brings you back to town, Uncle?” Emesta queried, lowering her hand. “Yes, uncle,” Edwyn smiled over his shoulder, ignoring the Ranger and turning o face him, “Why are you fighting amongst the very Hylians we are meant to protect?” "And cutting open their purses?" Emesta tutted, shaking her head. "Oh, Uncle!" Edwyn grinned with a condescending chuckle.