An Inbetween: Last Goodbye

Marian wiped the tears from her eyes as her father and brother walked off towards safer havens. She had to hope they would be okay; that they could fend for themselves. She said a quiet prayer, to whom she wasn’t sure, that perhaps Kotone would protect them. They were family, they had to look out for each other.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, there was Hana, patient as ever. Marian tried to smile. She traced Hana’s gaze to her now diamond arm, and then up until they had locked eyes. Hana’s hand cupped Marian’s cheek and Marian felt the tears well up in her eyes again. Hana smiled.

“I’m going to miss you,” Marian whispered. She grabbed Hana’s hand with her own and held it against her cheek like a doctor staunches a wound.

“You say that like you are never going to see me again,” Hana replied, her voice low. She leaned in and gave Marian a kiss on the forehead. “Do not talk like that, Miss. You will come home to all of us.”

Marian sniffled, her posture faltering as she let herself cry. No one else was paying any attention; they were all busy with their own business. She could afford this moment, she didn’t know if she would get the chance again. “Take care of them, while I’m gone.” She gestured to Bedlam and Havok who were pushing each other about while they waited.

“They are my children too, Miss. They will not be facing this alone.” Hana gently pulled her hand back before kneeling down into a heavy hug. “I love you, Mayumi. Please take care of yourself. We’re all watching over you.” She kissed Marian’s shoulder, the one with the glass arm, the one with the arm folded over with her love. When she pulled back from the hug, she wiped Marian’s face with her sleeve.

Marian nodded, kissed Hana’s cheek, and then let Hana stand and bow; the signal for the children to take their turn.

The end was coming; but the end of what, Marian was afraid to really ask.

Hearts of Lareana: Spirit

Lareana was beautiful in the setting sun. Golden light shone from the ocean; spreading out east for as far as the eye could see. The northern peaks of Mistmount scratched at the clouds like claws against the sky. And the small southern Isle of Apoeko shone like a green jewel; growing steadily larger as Marlow continued to fall.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered against the wind. Her words were lost to the steady roar of her descent. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. The tattoo on her forearm shimmered against the light of the sun. “Come on,” she repeated, over and over with increasing desperation. Her tails curled up against her back. Her ears folded down on her head.

A deep gasp.

The wind quieted. Marlow opened her eyes slowly, the world around her obscured by a violet film. She looked down. Apoeko’s treetops no longer an oncoming demise, but a still green blanket over the island. Marlow cheered and punched at the sky. “I did it!” She laughed and pushed her legs down as if to jump. Her ears perked and she shot up into the sky again. “I did it!”

The violet film faded and the world came back into clear view. Marlow, with some sense of control, lowered herself gently to the trees below while staring out at the sunset against the ocean. It was breathtaking.

And then Marlow felt one of her bare feet touch the trees, and she felt herself lose control again. She let out a string of curses as limbs of trees smacked against her own and leaves slapped at her face. She closed her eyes again. She let herself scream.

A soft oomph.

Marlow felt something soft beneath her body. She wrapped her arms around it.
“Yeah, not helping,” sputtered her savior. She opened her eyes, ears twitching, tails raised.
“Azizi!” She beamed. The bird man wasn’t much bigger than herself, but that didn’t seem to affect carrying her too much. He flapped his brown and black feathered wings to slow their descent. Marlow loosened her grip, opting to latch onto his brightly colored tunic. They landed by an old stone road, otherwise empty in the coming evening.

“Are you mad?” Azizi asked. He clicked his beak. “Your mom’s gonna kill you when she finds out.”

Marlow wasn’t paying any attention. She got her bearings, then ran past him to an old oak tree. She circled it twice before turning back to him, her face full of dread. “Where is it?”

Azizi sighed. He waved at her to follow. She pouted, ears back and tails flitting back and forth, but followed anyway. He led her down the road to a clearing long overgrown. Propped on a mushroom covered stump was a long staff, curled at the end and set with gold rings. Asleep beside it was a small orange owlat whose ears swiveled in their direction as they approached.

“Oh thank goodness!” Marlow breathed, dashing to the staff and snatching it from the stump. The owlat growled, stretched out it’s body and wings, and swiveled its head to look at her. “Oh hush, Nuru.” Marlow chided. She turned back to Azizi, whose winged arms were crossed in front of him.

Marlow opened her mouth, but Azizi shook his head. “Do not thank me. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t end up dead,” he explained. She blushed and looked down at her feet. Her tails curled around her legs.

“Your mother’s looking for you. It sounded urgent.”

Fiendship

“Tell me what you’re doing, again?” Chris from the kitchen.

Maddie finished putting the backs on her earrings. “I’m going to the Mall with a friend.”

Chris sighed. There was a soft clink as he put away the plate he’d been drying. “No, I mean, why are you going through High School again? Why is this a thing at all?”

“Because,” Maddie answered, “education is important and being an adult in this economy and political climate is ridiculous. I’d rather deal with High School drama than taxes and politics.”

“You do know you are still paying taxes on this house. You are still lying about your parents in this whole situation.” Chris emphasized parents in air quotes, finally turning to face her. “You still pay for…well everything.”

Maddie scrunched up her face. She hated that he was right. Her parents had stopped supporting her when she left the coven; she’d been on her own ever since without too much hassle. Fortunately, when she told them about going back to school they had still been willing to keep her cover story by showing up every now and again; so that was nice.
“Okay fine,” she admitted, “at least as a High School Student I get weekends and summers off.” Chris opened his mouth but she cut him off, “and it doesn’t cost nearly as much as college.”

Chris nodded. She had a point there. Maddie believed modern day college was a scam anyway; it wasn’t affordable enough to be practical.
“So, the mall?” Chris asked.

Maddie nodded. “Hollie, do you remember Hollie?” Chris shook his head. “Umm…the preppy straight A girl who is involved with pretty much everything? Very adorable.”

“Ah,” Chris said, “yes, you’ve mentioned her.” He motioned for her to proceed.

“Well we were investigating this Frankenstein thing and-“

“Scientist or Monster?”

“Both.”

“Alright.”

Maddie paused to re-gather her train of thought, then started over. “We were investigating this Frankenstein thing, or well, we weren’t sure at the time but I had a hunch. Anyway, there was an assembly and Shane, being Shane, decided to go sit at the top of the bleachers.”

Chris smirked, holding back a chuckle. “And you were in heels.”

“Sensible heels!” Maddie protested. “My Black Victorias with the violet trimming. They lace up all the way up the calf which protects the ankle if you tie them right and their heels are very chunky.”

Chris shook his head. “Heels are only sensible if you’re a butcher.” Maddie gave her brother a wicked grin. Chris responded with a flat stare.

“Anyway, Hollie said she was going to take me to the Mall and buy me sensible shoes,” Maddie continued, putting air quotes around the words sensible and shoes, “but I told her that she would never find a pair that matched my style.”

Chris turned up the intensity of his flat gaze. When Maddie looked confused and offended, he gestured to her current outfit. Rather than her usual many layered, Victorian Style, Bustled dress; Maddie had opted to wear an off the shoulder quarter sleeve sweatshirt over a tank top with leggings as pants, arm warmers, and ballet flats over socks. Everything was black, save the light grey of the sweatshirt. More impressively, at least to Chris, all of the Black matched.

Maddie gestured to her shoes. “Look at me and tell me you could find a pair of tennis shoes that would look nice with this.”

“Marley, you won’t find anything that looks nice with any of what you’re wearing.” The laundry buzzed from somewhere else in the house. Chris put the dishrag away and headed out of the Kitchen. “And they’re called sneakers.”

“Chris!” Maddie shouted. Chris kept walking to and down the hall towards the laundry.

“And leggings aren’t pants!” he called back. Maddie let out a frustrated noise.

The doorbell rang.

“Just a minute!” Maddie called. She grabbed her tinted glasses and a deep red scrunchie off the living room computer desk. She slid the glassed onto her face, then pulled her long silky hair into the scrunchie before answering the door.

“Oh, Hollie! I’m so glad you found the place!”

Maddie had to admit that Hollie was quite pretty. Her hair had a natural fluff and fullness to it, and her fashionable sense of style was quite charming. She looked like such a delicate thing; Maddie felt a tad guilty that she had ended up caught up in all of this supernatural shinaniganry.

“Uhh, yeah,” Hollie said, sounding a bit unsure. Maddie watched her survey the house from the doorway; or at least what she could see from the front door.

Maddie headed back towards the kitchen, leaving the door open. “I just need to grab my lunch and we can be on our way.”

“Lunch?” Hollie took a step into the house and shut the door behind her, figuring it was better to allow oneself in and keep the bugs out than it was to wait for an invitation. She didn’t realize Maddie noticed. She didn’t realize Maddie was making mental notes. “We’re going to the mall, we can just stop at the food court. Right? I mean you do still eat? I mean you do! You still eat. You’re grabbing lunch and-”

“I have dietary restrictions,” Maddie said, cutting her off. Hollie was equal parts curious, confused, and perhaps egregiously polite; all of which, Maddie thought, was impossibly adorable. Before Hollie could parrot her to ask another question, Maddie added, “I’m a vegetarian, and I don’t really trust major food chains to adhere to my needs.”

It wasn’t a lie, but of course it wasn’t the full truth either.

“I’m sorry,” Hollie replied with a sigh. “I guess this is all still kind of…weird for me.”

“No, I get it!” Maddie loaded up a little lunch box with food then brought it into the living room. She stuck the chilled box into a large black leather purse. “Believe me, I get it. Try having to figure all of this out back in the 1400s.”

There was an uncomfortable silence from Hollie. Maddie looked over at her and frowned. Poor thing.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what, if you’re really curious you can treat today like a Q&A day. The only question I won’t answer is what I am; that part you will have to guess on your own.” Maddie’s voice was cheerful. She continued, “or, you can pretend I’m just your rich, teenage, High School friend with poor fashion taste who is in need of a modernized wardrobe.”

“Yeah, about that,” Hollie said, “what are you wearing?”

“I know, she looks like an Eighties teeny-bopper mixed with a goth,” Chris replied, returning to the living room with a basket of laundry.

Maddie glared at him. “Yeah, like you know what any of those words mean.”

“Uhh,” Hollie managed. The pair looked back at her. Chris set the laundry basket down on an overstuffed armchair and pushed his hair out of his face.

“Hollie, this is Chris. We’re….well the simplest way to put it is that we’re half siblings,” Maddie said, introducing them.

“Ah..Hi…Is…Is he immortal too? Sorry! Sorry, that was rude I just-“ Hollie stammered. Her cheeks were beet red. Maddie covered a smile with her hand.

Chris didn’t bother to hide his. “Yeah, I am; but not in the same way. It’s complicated.” He didn’t look much older than the girls, dark stubble trying and failing to hide a young face. He held out a hand, worn and calloused. Hollie took it and nodded politely; his skin felt warmer than it should have. They locked eyes, if only for a moment, and Chris’ smile faded slightly; as though he saw something within her. Just as quickly, however, it was back and he had let go of her hand.

Maddie picked up her purse and headed towards the door, placing a gentle hand on Hollie’s shoulder to turn her with. “We’ll be back…I dunno, whenever. Don’t fold all of the laundry, Charlie needs to help when he gets back from Scott’s.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun!” Chris called after them.

Chris watched the door open and shut; finally alone in the house. He caught his gaze lingering on the door; there was something about that girl. He turned back, after a long moment, to the laundry basket and moved it to the floor. He then took a seat on the chair, turned on the TV, and got to work.

A Message is for the Sender

Even with the sky gone, the night was beautiful.

Y’lryyg had always appreciated the vastness of the night sky. The way the stars shone against the void reminded them of deep caves dotted with bioluminescent lichen and glowing beetles. They had figured that was what kept the Nightkin going, that familiarity of home. I might have made a good Nightkin, Y’lryyg thought. Y’lryyg looked at their pale scales and sighed. No melancholy, no disappointment, just the end of a thought. Just a recognition that the will of the dragons had other plans; but even proud Tripptrapps could wonder what life might have been.

Y’lryyg poked at the fire. It smoldered without enough oxygen to really keep itself going. They were running out of time. At least it smelled nice.

“Y’lryyg?” came a voice from behind. Even now, Y’lryyg could recognize it; Y’lryyg liked to think they were good at recognizing voices. Without prompting, Vynniel took a seat by the dying fire. The pair of them sat for a while, listening to the wood pop. Vynniel spoke again, “you’re up late.”
“Kobolds are night creatures,” Y’lryyg said. It felt nice to speak in draconic; to not have to justify the end of a thought.
Vynniel nodded. “I knew that,” she replied. “But you’re awake during the day now. With the party, I mean.”
“So my behavior is odd.” Y’lryyg nodded. “Y’lryyg cannot sleep. Too much on Y’lryyg’s mind.”

A short distance away, a sleeping Boof made a loud whine and rolled over in the dirt. Y’lryyg looked over. He was running in his sleep.

“I get that,” agreed Vynniel. She grabbed a stick and poked at the fire.
Y’lryyg looked back at her. They might not have been smart, but social intelligence was important to kobolds. Vynniel had much on her mind too; pain, by the look of it. “You know,” Y’lryyg started, “Kobolds have important words of wisdom.”
Vynniel stared at Y’lryyg, an eyebrow raised.
“Not that dragon needs kobold wisdom, but might help with Master Vynniel’s thoughts, yes?” Y’lryyg attempted a smile. Vynniel nodded slowly, curious enough to see what Y’lryyg had to say. Y’lryyg cleared their throat. “Important to remember that in life, the living are rats in narrow tunnels.”

“…What?”

Y’lryyg chuckled. It wasn’t the first time they had received that response. “Rats cannot move backwards. If rats cannot turn around, rats can only move forward. Have to chew or dig through obstacles. Face problems with head, yes?”

“Head on,” Vynniel corrected.
Y’lryyg shrugged, “same meaning.”

The quiet returned. Y’lryyg got up briefly to add more fuel to the embers. Vynniel kept trying to let enough air in for it to ignite properly. The night was cold without the sky.

“Y’lryyg wishes to ask a question,” said Y’lryyg. They dug into their pockets and held out a few gold coins. Vynniel looked surprised. She took the coins with some hesitation, then nodded. “Why does Master Vynniel wish to make kobolds independent?”

Y’lryyg didn’t notice Vynniel’s glance at the shackles on their tail and ankle. They didn’t notice the small twitch at the corner of Vynniel’s mouth. The subtlety of human expression was easily lost on kobolds. Vynniel was grateful for that.

“Because, I don’t know? It’s the right thing to do?”

Y’lryyg did notice the evasive tone in Vynniel’s speech. They shrunk down, just a bit, and turned their attention back to the fire. Vynniel frowned, then tapped one of the coins on Y’lryyg’s shoulder.

“Why did you want to be a squire?”

Y’lryyg took the coin and pocketed it. The stretched and scratched at the back of their head before making themself comfortable in the dirt. “Y’lryyg’s position is not lost on Y’lryyg. Kobolds learn pride in service. Kobolds learn dependency on dragons. Good Kobolds are left mostly alone, ignored except for tribute. We function fairly independently. We have complex social structure. We work together to survive.” Y’lryyg looked back up at the stars and the space dust. They breathed in the scent of the fire. They let their mind go to a far off place while they spoke. “Kobolds are proud of what we do, but world has little respect for Kobolds.”

“Y’lryyg saw a vision of Y’lryyg-self in a gem in magic cavern. Deep in Underdark, on expedition with Unit. Y’lryyg saw self in shiny armor with fancy weapon. Saw pride in Y’lryyg’s eyes. Understood then what Y’lryyg really wanted.” Y’lryyg looked down at their feet, eyes pausing on a series of acid holes burnt into their tunic. They ran a gentle hand over the holes, humming softly, and in no time, the clothes looked good as new.

When things got too quiet, Y’lryyg kept talking, “Now look at Y’lryyg. Reputation crashed into dirt. Traitor to Kobold-Dragon relationship. Ally of flatfaces. Loser of world ending weapons. Destroyer of sky. Y’lryyg has failed many challenges.” Y’lryyg looked over at the mountain in the sky, at the gaping maw within the earth where it once sat, at the ruins of the monestary.
“Y’lryyg…” Vinneal started. Y’lryyg held up a single finger.
“But Y’lryyg is rat in narrow tunnel. If Y’lryyg keeps going Y’lryyg might die, yes? But if Y’lryyg stops, Y’lryyg will surely die.”

Y’lryyg stood up and brushed off their tunic. “Y’lryyg might have failed, but there is always chance for Y’lryyg to find success; for Y’lryyg to do right thing.”

Y’lryyg bowed, slightly, then turned to head over to a snoring Boof. Vynniel turned back to the fire after watching Y’lryyg head off.
A beat, and then: “Master Vynniel? Forgive Y’lryyg for friendliness, but you should sleep. Mercy will worry if Master Vynniel is awake all night.”

Vynniel didn’t answer, and Y’lryyg didn’t bother looking back.

The Viridian Course – Part 1

And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain

Everything had been a blur. Screams and shouts and moving figures. A light as impossibly bright as she had ever seen. A darkness as deep as shadows that hide in the void. She remembered the sting of tears in her eyes. She remembered the sting of something else, a sharp pain and a heavy warmth. She remembered the dull ache of her heard and the feeling of the pit in her stomach. Everything blurred all together at once. It mixed and mingled with echoed space and memories of a past she had long forgotten. How had she managed to forget so much?

It was a gentle hand on her shoulder, the warmth of a hand in her own that pulled her back to reality.

My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain

Sarah’s eyes came into focus on another woman, maybe around her age. An old burn scar covered maybe half of her dark face, but she wore a gentle smile regardless. Sarah blinked a few times. The world around them was grey and featureless.

“Oh, good, you’re okay,” said the mystery woman. She helped Sarah to stand up and then tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear. Sarah looked down at herself; okay didn’t sound like it was quite the right word. She didn’t notice anything out of place, however.

“Yeah, hi,” Sarah managed. She kept looking around, trying to get a better sense for where they are. She was trying to get a better sense of what had led her here. “Sorry, where are we?”

The woman lost her smile. “Give it a minute,” she said.

When she let go of Sarah the echoes came back; and everything fell into place.

I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Her memories felt jumbled; a combination of separate timelines converging on a singular moment. In one, there had been an emergency. She was trapped with another. Something happened. She put herself in the way of tragedy. In another, she was a warrior in an armored dress. She stood, spear in hand, in the dark dank of the underground. Before her was an inky darkness that swallowed what little light she had brought with. Behind her was a frightened girl. She told the girl to run. Each memory faded into grey, and the world around her came back into focus.

“I take it I’ve met an ending,” Sarah said quietly.

The woman nodded and offered an, “I’m sorry.”

Sarah shook her head. “It’s inescapable. I’ll be fine. But,” she took a look around the endless grey expanse, “where am I?”

“Oh,” said the woman. “I’m sorry, I’ve been working on getting you out of here.”
Sarah smirked. “That would mean more if I knew where here is.”

“Do you remember Melissa?” asked the woman.

Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention

Sarah and Melissa had met in Sunday School. The younger girl was small and shy. She had lost her parents in a fire. Melissa had never much cared to speak with anyone. She kept to herself, hidden away in quiet corners with a small box of crayons. The only thing, Sarah noticed, that seemed to get her attention was the mention of angels. That’s what Sarah used to get to know her better. She’d bring pictures of angels based on the little information that the bible presented. She’d talk, at length, about what she knew from her time spent in the church. It took some time, but eventually Melissa opened up. The two were inseparable after that.

Melissa was a shadow at Sarah’s heels; never far behind when the two were in the same place. Years passed and the two grew up together like sisters long lost to time. By the time the accident rolled around, they both knew it was something else, but neither was bold enough to say anything.

“That’s right, the accident!” Sarah exclaimed. She looked at her reaper with some desperation. A pulse rang through the grey expanse. “Melissa, she was…is she?” Sarah couldn’t find words but she could feel the familiar hot sting of tears on her cheeks. She was already so prepared for the worst. She could meet her own end, but the whole point of what she did would be lost if anything had happened to-

“She’s fine,” said the woman. She laid a gentle hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

Second Breath

The Ana had negotiated a year prior with a still young Birch tree that grew the loveliest pink blossoms (an appealing mutation to the small clan). They were informed the tree would be honored to host their surviving brood as they moved into adulthood. The Ana were overjoyed and preparations for the metamorphosis began not long after the approval. Gifts were lain upon the roots of the bearer. The larva were coaxed to the branches where they fed and slept. Finally, the time came, and the larva spun their silk cocoons. Now all clan Ana could do was wait.

Watcher Tal had been the first to note the soft telltale glow from one of the pods. He opened his wings wide and signaled. Each Faloran who noticed sent the signal forward, and in no time, the great feast was lain out around the tree; tables full of plates full of preserved delicacies kept for just such an occasion. Lights were strung up about the area. Music rang through the valley. The celebration was at hand. The cocoons shifted and glowed; not yet words but recognition of thought. Wea’Ana set up the betting pools. Po put their best sunflower seeds on the quietest pod. A visiting sweet placed a jar of honey on one of the others.

By the time she emerged from her pod, the party had been in swing for some time. The moon was high and bright and the stars drew warm and welcoming images on the endless sprawling void. She held tight to the branch and blinked. She stretched her wings, the warm evening air taking its time in drying the slimy fluids from her long sleep. She breathed. Her lights faded in and out, ever so slowly. She moved her mandibles and let out a few soft clicks. The sound of the party faded, ever so slightly. When it faded back in, she looked around. There were still some who had yet to break out, but eager Flits were already collecting the remains of dried silks still clinging to the tree. She looked at her host, who had finally managed a soft purple greeting glow. She understood it well enough. She’d seen it before, she was sure. She looked at the tree for a long time, her vision wrapped up in its marvel. Through another’s eyes she saw a mother, young and afraid but still with a glow on her face, cradling a child. The child was soft and content. Its heart burned like a star. The world was warm in every way. With a conscious thought she closed one of her eyes. She was brought back to herself and the tree. The first words she flashed were of thanks, and she touched her forehead to the branch before dropping, gently, down to the ground.

She looked out upon the crowds that were celebrating. A smaller flit, gentle black chitin, red and gold wings approached her with wings and arms outstretched. She took a shy step back and folded her wings small against her. The other flit wiggled their antennae and responded with a soft chitter and some quiet flashes. They held out a limb, a request. She took it and tentatively stepped forward. They ran gentle fingers over her fresh chitin, all four eyes scanning every detail. Four eyes. She moved her own and counted as each one responded. Why was she counting five? They made it up to her face, eyes focused on her own eyes; no, on perhaps something else. They did not have to touch the one that was closed for her to open it. A surprised click was followed by a jump back from the investigative flit. She shrunk down again. Had she done something wrong? She allowed her newly opened eye to focus on the other. She did not understand what she saw, but she was aware of how it all felt. Joy, care, and curiosity reflected in that soul; the spark of the star filled her own once more. She managed to close her eye again and the images and the feelings faded. The flit was clapping. They pointed to her eye. The others clapped too. Wings fluttered and shone in celebration. She relaxed, letting her antennae uncurl and her wings come back out a bit.

The flit gestured to themself and chittered. Their name was Fen’Ana. Fen gestured at her with one limb, another held out once more as a request. They chittered and flashed and fluttered their wings. Ve; that was her name. Ve took Fen’s hand and chittered happily. Fen led Ve to one of the tables still filled with food. The feast wouldn’t end until dawn after the last of the cocoons opened.

The beginning of a new adventure, rooted in the celebration of life.

In the Absence of Time

If it hadn’t been for Scr’th and the gracious pot of tea from the Vit-riders Ve wasn’t sure if she would have had enough concentration to fight against the mounting fever and chills. She’d been sick before, but even now she could tell this was unlike what her people were used to.

The moment to breathe let her check her vitals. Other than the moisture condensing on her chitin there was no sign of waxy residue or dry flaking. She thanked the stars she wasn’t in molting season. She took another sip of tea; it was bitter and dark. She knew they wouldn’t let her poison herself, but it was the best approach she had to killing whatever had gotten into her system. She at least knew she could survive poison.

Something, like invisible strands, pulled her thoughts to the foggy planet floor.

She shook her head and trilled, trying to regain focus. She spread her wings. She felt cold, but she knew she had to be overheating. The Vit-riders had given her a table with familiar tools, apparently unused for years. They would have to do. The Vit-riders had mentioned the pulls to the fog. She would need to buy herself time. Her friends had left to try and help. She couldn’t foil their efforts by falling to one who takes but does not give.

Sedatives had been her specialty.

When she had been studying back on Nuni she had researched sedatives that would be safe for extended spaceflight. She would need it, at best, to last. She would need it, at worst, to keep her unconscious if they needed to crack into her head to remove the parasite. She was glad she kept her medical tools on her. She only hoped she could keep her wits to use the needle on herself. While she was sure that the apparati of the Vit-riders could do something as simple as stabbing her soft bits with a needle, she didn’t want to subject them to that.

They had suffered so much already. She had to help them.

They had records of the previous Falora. They were hard to watch. When one suffers, the whole suffers. Her heart ached and she wondered briefly if that was the parasite or simply the pain of watching her people fall victim to this wretched disease. She let herself believe the latter. The videos themselves were very informative, particularly if one had spent much of their life studying dangerous diseases and pandemics. Even so, Ve found her mind wandering.

If all of this was true she could never go home.

She’d never pass inspection at Moon Base and she could bring in a disease that would destroy her people. The Vitroxians would be left utterly alone and they would wither and rot. Even if she were to die in space, a possibility she had been prepared for upon leaving, her body could not be returned home. She couldn’t return to the cycle. She would be an end to the circle. Her antennae curled close. Her wings faltered. And then…

Something in the vid caught her eye.

She perked up and replayed it. Perhaps…

Excuse me, she turned to the Vit-riders who had been watching her from varied distances. I don’t suppose you have any remains of the ended?

The Vit-riders spoke among themselves before giving their answer.

We don’t want to lose another.

Falora can’t cry but she understood the sentiment. Perhaps there was a chance. There had to be something.

The Answer

Nuni’s tallest building was the Filla Observatory on Violet Hill. It towered over even the oldest trees, the massive telescope reaching up into the heavens. Faloran of all shapes and sizes flew and crawled in and out of the layers as they went about their business; traffic always increased during the soft twilight of the evening. Ve looked out over the railing of the highest tier at the horizon. She liked watching the suns set, first Tal then Fey. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A Singer began their song a few floors down. Another answered their call somewhere in the distance. A breeze blew by the hill, shaking the leaves of working Vitroxians. It was the same story as so many nights before.

A soft clicking pulled Ve from her thoughts. Opening her eyes she turned. Su waved and swayed a gentle greeting, her antennae twitching softly. Ve fluttered her wings and twitched her antennae in response; she clicked, pulsing the light on her wings and curling her antenna close. Su gestured to the stack of papers on the desk Ve was working at and clicked back. Sue’s translucent wings hummed as she moved them. Ve sighed; Sweets were difficult to understand when they were excited, the light of their wings blurred too much. Su didn’t seem to notice and by now Ve had lost the conversation. She let out a sharp click and spread her wings wide. Su jumped, her own wings going silent and her antennae at attention.

Ve let her wings down slowly, blinking a soft pattern across them as they fell. Su let out a long breath and swayed a bit more. She spread her wings as best as any Sweet could, and started again; gesturing at the papers. Ve looked down at the desk and dimmed her wings. She hadn’t gotten any work done; not really. Now it was Su’s turn to get upset. She clicked, loud, and started blinking. Ultimately it devolved into heavy Sweet speak with buzzing wings and movement patterns that Ve still didn’t quite understand. Su was a wonderful companion, but with Ve’s workload she couldn’t take the time to engross in her language. Su stopped, suddenly in front of Ve and curled her antenna. She splayed her arms, tapped a foot, and paused her wings long enough to flash the pressing question of what could have distracted Ve from such an important assignment.

Ve turned to the sky, one wing extended with a slow flash as she scanned the darkening void. She was sure she had seen it; where did it go? She took a deep breath, the warm air letting her head clear, and opened her third eye. The soft pink/violet of the sky glossed over with a pale filter and she kept scanning.

There.

Something was out there, far out in the distance. It was small and gentle and warm. It called out to her, like the sun calls to a Vitroxian; like the Singers call out to all of Draemsil. Ve pointed and closed her eye, the film fading and a star fading into sight. Su let out a few curious clicks. Ve fluttered her wings. She didn’t notice Su rifling through her papers. She nearly jumped out of her chitin when Su tapped her on the shoulder. Ve turned, and found Su holding one of the papers in Ve’s face. Ve took it and analyzed her own work. Her mandibles shifted slightly as she reviewed her studies. Then: an epiphany.

Ve clicked happily and hopped out of her seat. She skipped forward at Su and bumped her head against the smaller Faloran’s yellow fluff. Su chirped in surprise before breaking out into small, but happy, wiggles.

They had found the answer. Now all they had to do was get it past the Graces.

Just in Time

“Just a moment,” Bianca called from her living room. The doorbell rang again; a few times in quick succession. She sighed and called out again, “a moment! A moment!” It didn’t do her any good. The doorbell kept ringing. She all but slammed her cleaning materials on the old oak coffee table and stood up.
“Mom!” called Luviia from upstairs. “Doorbell!”
Bianca counted backwards from ten as she marched towards the door. She yanked it open, her face a furious scowl. Standing on her doorstep was a man, perhaps a bit younger than herself with shaggy blonde hair and distant green eyes. One arm was shaky and outstretched, a finger hovering over the doorbell. The other arm was held against his front. His off-white button down was stained with blood.
Bianca gasped. The man smiled.
“Ah, Philomene,” he said. He then collapsed; shaky legs giving out from underneath him.

Bianca gasped. She hadn’t heard her grandmother’s name in years. She stood, momentarily frozen, and stared down at the strange man. She swore she had seen him before. Of course, that mattered very little with him bleeding out on her doorstep.

She bent down and dragged him inside, laying him flat on the cool stone of the entry floor. His shirt and jacket, now that she was examining them more closely, were peppered with gunshots. It was a miracle the man made it as far as he did in such a condition. She wasn’t sure how much time he had left. She tore off his clothes and tossed them aside. His torso was covered in blood, but she didn’t have much of a choice.

Bianca took a deep breath and set her hands on his chest. She breathed as evenly as she could. Her hands began to warm against his skin. She kept breathing. She felt the blood pumping weakly through his veins. She felt the delicate wheeze of his breathing. She tried to sync it all up with her own sense of self. For a moment, she could feel a weak semblance of his pain. Bianca looked down at the shots. She watched, the more she sat and breathed, as bullet fragments pushed their way out of the wounds. She watched the skin close and repair itself. She watched some of the really bad wounds scar; but he would be okay.

Satisfied that the man would live, Bianca stood up and headed for the kitchen. She was covered in blood, and so was he. They both needed a wash.

He woke up some time later on a couch. His vision blurred, but he could make out the silhouette of a woman, her hair in a bun. He managed a smile.
“Ah, Philomene, I knew I could count on you,” he said weakly. The woman leaned in and he squinted. She was not as familiar as he had originally thought.
“Who are you? How do you know my grandmother?” the woman asked. She tucked a strand of loose hair back behind her ear.
He moved to sit up, but everything still hurt. She clicked her tongue and pushed on his shoulder. He realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought this was….did you say grandmother?”
She nodded. “How did you know her?”
He frowned. “I was sure she kept that photo of us…” He watched her mouth the word “photo” back at him with some confusion, before she rushed off out of sight. He sighed and tried to lean up again. When that didn’t work, he ran his hand over his exposed torso and took a look. It was clean, and he felt no bandaging.

A framed photograph was shoved into his face. “Who are you?” demanded the woman. The photograph pictured a pair of kids holding hands. One of them was a young girl in a nice dress. The other was a somewhat older boy in dirty farm clothes. He smiled.
“That’s the one,” he said. “That’s me, there, on the right.”

The woman pulled the photograph back to look at it. “That is impossible,” she said. “You would have to be much older.”
“I swear, it’s me,” he reaffirmed. “So you’re her granddaughter then?”
“Do not change the subject!” She barked. He chuckled.
“Listen,” he said, “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”
She scowled and brought her face close to his. Their noses nearly touched. “Try me,” she said.

“My name’s Doyle Mcready, and I’m a Time Traveler.”

Behind the Scenes

The stage was set. The pieces took their places. The blanketed figure sat center stage, her back nearly touching the curtain. The inky black shadow kept sharp clawed hands on her shoulders, burbling into her ear. The great, black beast had grown from it’s tiny size and began to pace back and forth across the platform. The spotlight followed the beast, but it was the shadow’s voice that came through the speakers.

Useless, it whispered. Pathetic. Look at you. You can’t do anything right. You can’t do anything at all.

The beast lashed out at an invisible adversary on stage right. The soldier entered from the left and mirrored its movements. The two began a futile dance for control over the stage.

You’re just going to get hurt out here, groaned the shadow. I wonder if that makes you more or less pathetic than running away?

A spotlight. The cool, clear light of the moon. It shown down on the soldier for the briefest moment. From behind her appeared the Archer, the smile never gone from his face. He took her hand for a brief moment. They shared a small, soft look. Then, he let her go, and joined in the dance. The blanketed figure shifted, tilting her head as if to watch. The shadow’s face twisted into a dripping frown.

It won’t help you.

The dance went on, but the soldier and her partner swiftly began to fall out of sync with one another, losing inch by inch of the stage to the beast. The shadow regained his inky smile.

But then, a spark.

There was a flash, like an explosion, and something new took center stage. The lights dimmed to a hazy purple. The soldier and the archer turned to look at the new arrival. They had seen her before; tall like the seductress, face worn like the mother. She was angry. The beast stood up on its heavy hind legs and mirrored her movements.

“You used me! I put my trust in you and you used me!” she screamed at the empty audience. The beast roared and it was her voice, echoing and reverberating throughout the theater.

The stage shifted, rotating around. The blanketed figure didn’t appear to move, but she ended up on the far left of the stage. The shadow slunk across the floor, oozing up out of the ground behind her. The beast and the new arrival turned to face stage right, where at the far end the soldier and the archer has not moved. A phantom image, a woman, appeared between the groups. There were a few moments of tension between the phantom and the arrival. The spotlight over the blanketed figure began to turn on.

A crash. Something thrown from the audience. The phantom faded and a gasp rang out throughout the room. The pieces all turned to look at the shadow, as though seeing him for the first time. It tightened its grip on the blanketed figure, its face a mix of fear and disgust.

The archer took the soldier’s hand and spun her in a circle. They danced into a dizzying whir as the stage began to shake. When they stopped, there was only one; a cocky grin on their face, a helmet tossed to the floor.

The stage shook again.

The pieces tried to hold purchase, but the movement was too much. Soon they were all on the floor. The lights went dark, save for the lone, dim spotlight on the blanketed figure.

A voice from offstage, “no, I just need more time. Just a little more.”

A blinding bright light covered the stage. It bled out from a grand and angelic figure floating above the platform. The new arrival began to cry. The beast whimpered behind her. The cocky hero reached out a pleading hand. The moment felt like it stretched on for an eternity.

And then the figure was gone, and the lights had returned to normal.

The shadow looked at the beast, and tried to regain purchase. You can’t do anything. You always need to be saved. What good are you? What can you even do?

It sounded desperate. The pieces looked over at him with scowls. The hero stood up and walked to the beast, a gentle hand on its side. The arrival did the same and there was a warm flash of light.

The figure who stood before the shadow and the smaller figure was tall enough that the inky creature had to strain to see their face. A wild mane of hair framed a worn and learned face with a sharp jaw and weary eyes. Long silk scarves covered their broad body.

“There are more important things than you,” they said. The shadow shrunk, its mass seeping into the cracks in the platform. “You will leave her be.”

They reached down a massive hand and carefully picked up the blanketed figure. The shadow burbled and hissed, digging sharp nails into her shoulders, refusing to let himself be swallowed into the floor. They pulled, the shadow stretching like taffy. They paid him no mind, even as he wailed.

They brought the figure to their face and planted a kiss on her forehead. She reached out a hand, despite the pain, and touched their face.

The curtains closed.