Toreishi

The helmet’s internal display is tuned to weather patterns, a habit from their days with Roketto. Then, they navigated solar flares to deliver terraforming algorithms to nascent worlds. Now, in The Teikodian Empire, it just tells them when the afternoon drizzle will begin. Toreishi stands in the downpour outside a minor official's office, the message pouch sealed and dry. The recipient is late. Toreishi doesn't knock again; protocol is everything. They just wait, perfectly still, their face unreadable behind the visor as golden spires reflect the gray sky. It’s not the galaxy-spanning work they once did, but ensuring this gilded world doesn’t rust from the inside out is its own quiet, vital mission.