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Day 1: First Meeting/Light

Tataru Week 2026~ WoL & Tataru | Gen | 862 words | MSQ: 2.0 I decided to use the prompts as writing warmups earlier this month, no guarantee i'll get around to all of them during the event since i'm still really busy irl, but these have been fun so far :> Note: moro'a and tataru are close friends. i don't take any issue with shipping lalafells romantically, it just isn't what they are to each other!

Citing "important matters", Y'shtola had parted ways with Moro'a almost as quickly as she'd hailed him, though not without detailed directions on how to proceed onwards to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn's clandestine headquarters. When you arrive, look for Tataru Taru; rest assured you will be in good hands. I bid you good day…and welcome.

The path through the Footfalls was straightforward enough, but the dry desert heat hardly agreed, and it left Moro'a feeling more than discomforted. La Noscea could occasionally turn so humid that it felt as though one might drown in the very air, but he found that comparable to the way this heat sapped the strength out of him. And the dust, which gathered in hot gusts threatened to settle on every ilm of him, even his eyes. He dared not drain his last remaining sips of water in case of an emergency, but it left him parched and on the cusp of irritability.

About halfway through, he began to persevere if only that he might find respite from the elements at his destination, caring less about the promise of a new adventure with each passing moment. When at last he reached Vesper Bay, the cooler air drifting in from the coast brought some relief, though hardly enough. Right, past the statue of a lalafellin man made in unfortunate taste, near the waterfront. Moro'a hovered at the door for several more seconds, unsure if he should knock to be let into a secret organisation. His hand was a second from making contact with the door when he heard singing.

Deep in the desert of my heart…a lonely flower blooms...

It was a pretty song and a pretty voice, light with simple joy. Moro'a listened, his hand still held in mid-air as curiosity got the better of him. More than likely this was Tataru, and he really should knock before anyone saw him and mistook his intentions. The decision was made for him as the voice suddenly grew louder, and the door swung open.

Instinct compelled him to skip backwards, praying that he would appear as though he was only just coming up to the entrance. At the same time, a lalafellin woman dressed in a pink tabard and a large red hat looked up at him and jumped, scattering back a similar distance. "Oh!"

Moro'a recovered first. "I was told to come here, uhm…Miss Tataru?" Quick as a flash, the woman's gaze sharpened, and though he was easily twice her height, and she apparently unarmed, he sensed a fire behind those eyes that reminded him of Rubh, moments before a razor remark left her tongue. "Y'shtola sent me and told me how to find this place," he added quickly.

Seconds of silence passed as the woman regarded him. "That's Mistress Tataru to you, and failing to address me as such carries consequences in these parts." Her voice was icy, and Moro'a's stomach dropped. A poor start, and he'd only just arrived. An apology was forming at his lips when the woman threw her head back, punctuating the air with a full-bellied laugh. "Oh, the look on your face!" she cackled. The fire in her eyes banked instantly, replaced with sparkling pink as she beamed up at him. "Sorry, I could not resist. You must be Moro'a! It's a good thing you mentioned Y'shtola, though, or else I might have actually been suspicious. Come in, then!"

She beckoned him beyond the threshold, and after a moment's hesitation he followed, surreptitiously wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead that were now the combined result of the ill climate and Tataru's unexpected jest. "I'll need you to fill in some particulars," she said, hurrying to and fro as she gathered a stack of parchment and a quill. "Just some basic details—oh, but where are my manners! You must be exhausted, coming all the way from the city!"

She left the table again, returning this time with a tray of cups and a pitcher. "The bar on the other side just got a shipment of fresh La Noscean oranges." Pouring a generous amount of juice into a cup, she pushed it towards him.

After the first surprise, Moro'a was almost just as bewildered. "I'm fine, really," he tried to assured her, but she shook her head. "Nonsense. Even if you were not clearly parched, Ul'dahn hospitality compels me," she countered with a polite, ironclad smile. "Go on."

Well, if she could not be denied…he accepted the drink from her this time, bowing his head gratefully. The sweet-sour tang soothed his throat instantly. The flavour was oddly nostalgic, bringing to mind long days at the orchards, summer sunshine and torrential rains. Before he knew it, he'd drained the cup. "Thank you."

Tataru nodded, satisfied. "I do need you to fill in this form now, and then I'll show you in. But I expect to enjoy a proper Ul'dahn welcome with you sometime once you've settled in. It's been a while since someone joined our merry band. Do you like tea?"

Moro'a smiled, knowing better than to refuse this time.

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