Prism!

Writer, gardener, baker, photographer, dancer. Demisexual/Demiromantic/Sapphic. She/they !!Minor!!

[dorothycreative]

Strange Botany No.30 by Dorothy Siemens, watercolour and acrylic markers on Arches 14 x 10 inch watercolour paper. Instagram: @dorothy.siemens

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 8 (2/2)

Dee slipped in. Even in the light of the oil lamps, I had never seen them so bright with lingering anger. She looked disheveled, hair tied back like she had had to fight someone. Stray strands of ebony framed her fierce face, and her bright colored frills poked through her hair. I sat up, suddenly painfully aware of my vulnerable state. Thankfully, she mistook my embarrassment for attention. She glanced between Arwen and I. “We did not capture him. He arrived to the Imperial barracks first.” I didn’t bother to critique her speech. “Is everyone alright? Where’s Roman?”           “He went back to our dorm to hide. The Imperial might try to report him for ag… aggre…” she clutched her head. “Metdo, yai no pirle.” I leaned forward, catching the meaning of her Merkin outburst. “Hey, relax. It’s okay.” Arwen hesitated before putting a hand lightly on her shoulder, xenial as always. “You can sit down if you need to. In fact, would it be good if you lie low here tonight?” Dee nodded forlornly. “Yes. I am grateful.” She stepped around the coffee table and flopped down at the opposite end of the couch. She braced her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands. Arwen left the room, mumbling about finding something. “Aggression?” I offered. “Thanks.” She muttered darkly. I paused, then looked away. It felt wrong to watch her when she was so defeated, and it made me feel a little too vulnerable. “Thanks for… trying to run that guy down.” She looked up, and it could have been moisture in her eyes or just the light. “I am sorry. I thought… I thought you had been shot. All I could think about was… er… revenge is the word, I suppose.” No one had ever… fought for me like that. Yet she kept doing it, again and again, audacious and laudable. I managed a small smile through the throbbing pain radiating from my ankle. The adrenaline was wearing off. “How noble.” “Truly I am.” She smiled back, a mouth of sharp teeth that could no doubt rip and tear if she chose to. But that didn’t scare me. In fact, they made her all the more beautiful. They suited her well, after all, what was the sea without its salt? Though I wouldn’t want to be on the business end of those points. I bet that Imperial shit his pants when he saw her coming for him. “So you… understand Merkin? Tai pirle?” She asked cautiously. I puffed up proudly. “Of course I do!” She arched an eyebrow, eyes glittering in amusement. “Okay, fine. I only know enough to do business.” I grumbled, deflating a little. “And only the above-water variant. Obviously.” “You did business with Merkin?” She asked curiously, and for good reason. Most trade with them was restricted due to recent tensions.

“The trading company did. The East Isles are right at the edge of the queendom, so it was easy and we never got caught.” I admitted. “Hm.” I didn’t know what that meant, and it made me nervous. Arwen returned with a red canvas bag. She fished into it and handed me a compression bandage. “Here, set your ankle.” “Don’t tell me what to do,” I retorted, but pulled off my boot. It took a little effort, as my foot was swelling slightly, but it came off. I had done this before… wrap the ankle, down to the arch, over the top, back around, easy peasy. Arwen passed me the tape and some shears, and I cut and taped the bandage before handing everything back to her. “I’ll put this in your room,” she said. “In case you need to change it before it heals. You should stay off of it.” My tongue was curled for a witty retort, but I paused. Shit. “But I start work tomorrow!” I moaned. Arwen groaned, pressing her hand to her face. Dee barked a laugh. “Damn it, ‘Sani! Fine, go to work, see if I care.” Arwen grumbled. I half grimaced, half grinned. “And I can’t get up the stairs.” Arwen stared me down. “I hate you sometimes.”

____________________________________

Mannn… the man is NONSTOP!

I missed writing about my colonial dirtbags. Hopefully I can get on a regular schedule soon. I'm getting back into that flow.

I am so tired. I've been trying to make Tumblr post this for two days and it keeps bugging out on me, so I have no witty outro.

Adieu.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 8 (1/2)

I pushed past the curtains, past Roman, into the lamplight, up to the podium. I surveyed the crowd, and the chatter fell into hushed, anticipating silence. No Arwen. Well, not that I could see. She might be hiding in the shadows of the shops somewhere. Or she hadn’t shown up at all. My heart lurched sadly at the thought, and I wasn’t sure why. I swallowed my nerves and addressed the crowd, setting my wings in a strong position. “Good evening to you all, and thank you for bravely coming out this evening. I have a question for you tonight- how many of us drink tea daily?” No response. “Go on. Raise your hands. Don’t be shy.” No one raised a hand. “That’s what I thought. What about sugar? Does anyone here have white sugar on a daily basis?” Nothing.                                                   “Yeah, I figured. You know what? I grew up on the East Isles. We grow sugar there- It’s kind of our whole thing. Almost everyone works on a plantation. But none of the locals can afford it either.” A few people in the crowd exchanged wide-eyed looks. Apparently they weren’t privy to that knowledge. Good. Let them be shocked. “My friends, my fellow subjects, why are you here tonight? Are you here because you relate to the cause? Out of curiosity? Perhaps a bit of both, hm?” I let my gaze roam, making eye contact with the people. There were a few humans in the crowd. Interesting. “I’ll tell you why I’m here. I’m here to tell you a story. A story of a child who lived on stories. Ancient tales of times not so long ago, when magic roamed the earth and people just like her- get this- could fly.” I spread my wings in demonstration. My black feathers caught the lamplight, the undertones of oil shining with the reflected amber. “I’m sure many of you can relate. Perhaps your stories told you of powerful visions of the future, or magic that could make the trees grow tall, or fire that danced to your will. Or strength or speed or the ability to create life. Maybe you idolized the old covens, the witches, the star goddess that they followed. But they were just that- stories. For you and I, magic is as untouchable as the sun. But it wasn’t always like that, was it?” I let the crowd murmur. “I’m not here to pitch a revolutionary plot to you. I’m not here to tell you to grab your pitchforks and torches.” I pulled out my matchbook and struck a match before dropping it into the trough below the stage, filled with firewood, where it fizzled out. “Because that wouldn’t be enough. No, maybe I would convince one or two of you, but not enough. I would be just another jaded rebel in a long line of them.” I struck another match and dropped it. “It wouldn’t do much good for us to have that chasm between us. For you to regard me as a crazed rabble-rouser.” I scanned the crowd with cool, honest authority. “No, that wouldn’t do. I need you all to think, to look at history. To come to your own conclusions. The right conclusions. Once you do, once we unite our goals…” I snatched an oil lamp- this was the moment. I smashed the oil lamp on the ground, where it lit up the oil Nnoa and I had poured earlier, over the grass, around the stage. Some people screamed. Most watched, enraptured, as the flames engulfed the stage behind me. I spread my wings, phoenix triumphant- hopefully not devil incarnate. “We will alight, we will blaze, and we will reclaim our birthright!” The crowd erupted into screams and cheers. I grinned, feeling the delicious heat of not just the fire but the people. I felt… sempiternal. This was good. This was very good. I wish I could tell you I saw the glint of the brass. I wish I could say the breeze whispered a warning to me. But no. It was Roman.

The bang rattled my eardrums as he threw me off the flaming stage and we both tumbled down the stairs. The crowd scattered like rabbits. I couldn’t breathe, scales crushing me into the ground until Roman moved his weight and dashed off, his steps shaking the ground below me. I groaned as someone lifted me to my feet. My ankle screamed in protest as I limped with Dee behind the stage. People were shouting and screaming, a cacophony. My head spun. Cacophony, cacophony.“Holy shit, what…” “Fucking Imperial.” Dee gritted her sharp teeth, not from strain but from pure rage. She helped me sit on the grass behind the smoldering stage and dashed off to surely exact her revenge. I pity the fool on the other end of her vindictive wrath. Bessie crouched beside me, tail lashing like a whip. “Are you shot?” “No, no, my ankle. Is everyone okay?” “No one was hurt. A lone shooter, I think.” Her white ears were laid flat on her head. She prodded my ankle and I snarled. “I just rolled it. I’m fine.” My words came out more clipped than I had intended. And Arwen, there was Arwen at my side! “Shit, are you okay?” “I’m fine. You’re here!” I said, unable to help my smile. “I saw it all. Cool magic trick.” She glanced back at the scorched stage. “We should go home.” Swirling shadows in front of me. “I’ll walk you home. You need to leave before the Imperial Watch shows up.” I nodded and Arwen and Bessie helped me up. Both girls were a head shorter than me, and a crazed laugh bubbled from my throat. My ankle already felt better, though not much, and I leaned on Arwen with her incessant nagging. I felt like I could either run a marathon or fly or maybe just collapse, the adrenaline in my blood making the world buzz uncannily. I felt both kinetic and lethargic.   We followed Shrill, taking alleys and other back roads to avoid being followed by any other rogue Imperials. As soon as we stepped on the porch of Arwen’s house, the enigmatic wraith was gone- as far as I could tell, anyway. Arwen brought me to the couch and went to lock her door. I propped my foot up and grimaced. I must have sprained something. “I shouldn’t have come. I…” Arwen grimaced when she returned. “I can’t be…” “Involved. I know.” I smelled like oil and ashes. On the nice couch too. Oops. “Did you see the shooter?” “Yeah. Guy in Imperial red. He snuck in late…I should have said something.” She swallowed audibly. “Is your ankle alright?” “Hurts like a bitch. I think I sprained it. But I’m fine. I hope Roman and Dee are okay.” “Me too.” She sank into her armchair, gripping the arms. I saw her hands shaking. It didn’t escape me how close I had come to death. That could have been the end. I would have gone without achieving anything, without having flown, without a spouse or children or family or anyone to remember me after my body cooled. I had never been afraid of death. It was a constant companion on the Isles. Death came for everyone eventually, so you had to live and eat and fight and fuck until it did. I had already lived longer than I probably should have. But Roman…. Roman had saved me anyway. He hadn’t stopped my death, but he had prolonged my life. I sent a brief prayer for him to whatever gods were listening. We sat sullenly in silence, comrades in our anxiety. The grandfather clock in the hallway set a steady, incessant rhythm to our shared adrenaline crash. Until there was a sharp tapping at the window. We both jumped. Arwen rushed over, then peeked through the curtains cautiously before throwing them open. I clutched my chest. “Gah, by the breeze.” I huffed.

[prismcypher404]

wtf

Why can't I post damn you tumblr

[prismcypher404]

WIP

I haven't posted for abouuuuuut... two months but I am trying to work on things.

Next chapter is hella annoying to write because Asani Chans is supposed to be an excellent wordsmith and I... I am not.

I was originally just going to take a break for Christmas, but after that there was a major family crisis, then I was trying to cope with that, and before I knew it, the county livestock show came around and I was busy and going COMPLETELY OUT OF MY GOURD-

I'm just taking my time right now, and trying to get back to myself. That's priority. This post is mainly for future me so I can remember why there's such a big time gap in between posts lol.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 7

I took my plan to Roman, who then took it to Shrill. He approved it hesitantly and with much cynicism. He wasn’t exactly the most open minded wraith- but who said he had to be? After everything, he had every right to be wary. I held my papers to my chest, crumpling the precious writing slightly as I watched some of the stronger rebels move the metal trough in front of the podium that stood year round in the square, an invitation for any who wanted to speak. The square itself had been raked of all its dried leaves, a necessity for my plan. I folded the papers neatly and slid them into the pocket of my trousers, kindly pressed by Arwen, and stepped forwards. My wings were clenched to my back for some reason, making my muscles tense, and it was a physical effort to make them relax. “Thanks.” I went over to the three rebels, who were piling sticks and dry leaves into the trough. The rest would be done under the cover of dusk. They were an Elf and two Goliath, who nodded to me with a look of respect. Like I was some kind of brave sacrifice to the dragon that was the Imperials. I needed to relax. Getting too poetic. I watched as the rebels faded into the sparse crowd, disappearing from sight to report to Shrill. I looked towards- not at, obviously- the red ball of fire just kissing the horizon through the buildings. Not long now. Maybe fifteen minutes and Nnoa (who was strangely stealthy when sober) would be here with the oil. Then a few minutes more before the crowd gathered.

I brushed my hands through my pockets and found a few coins, enough for a cinnamon roll. Breezes knew I needed it. Though my coffers were finally empty. Good thing I started work tomorrow.

I made my way to the bakery on the edge of the square, where I had gone days ago. The little bell sang delicately as I pushed open the door. A few older patrons were seated at the tables, playing chess or reading newspapers. I stepped up to the front desk. “Are there any more cinnamon rolls?”

The older woman- a lined but glowingly healthy human-  nodded with a smile, lips brushed with delicate pink pigment. “Of course. I’ll heat one up in the oven for you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I said, slightly taken off guard. She didn’t have to, but it was sweet.

I leaned against the counter and surveyed the room. At a table for two, by herself, was a little human girl reading a book. She must be here with her grandfather- I spotted a man who had similar facial features.

From a distance, I recognized the book- Happy as a Clam, my favorite from when I was a child. It was one of the only books out there written by an Eurosi, who these days tended to be illiterate due to a profound lack of schools. Unfortunately, my well worn copy had been destroyed in the hurricane, but a thrill went through my chest as I saw its cousin.

I pushed off the counter and strode over to the girl. “That’s a good book, kid. Do you like it?”

She didn’t seem to know I was there, until she angled her head, saw me looming over her, and jumped. I tried to look pleasant, something I wasn’t quite proficient in.

“She can’t hear you,” her grandfather said from a table away. “Born deaf.”

Oh. Oh shit. “Oh gods, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I trailed off before coming to my senses.

Carefully I sat in the chair across from the girl. I narrowed my eyes and glared down at the table, trying to recall the contents of a manuscript I had studied for months, for this very moment.

I looked up at the little girl, who was watching me curiously. I placed my hand to my chest and made a circle. I’m sorry. I signed, hopefully.

Her eyes lit up like candle flames, and she launched into a string of signs as swift as a rushing river, and just as blustering.

Slow down, I signed slowly, grinning. I… bad.

She slowed down, returning my grin, and traced her finger along her jaw from her ear to her mouth. I’m deaf.

I know, I replied, hoping I didn’t come across as patronizing. What is your name?

E-l-l-i-s. She finger spelled.

Nice to meet you, Ellis. I am A-s-a-n-i. I left out my second name. It was too long all together.

Nice to meet you, Asani. She smiled.

Good book? I asked, knowing my grammar was clumsy. I think I used the wrong form of good.

Yes, very good. She answered slowly, letting me read each sign.

My favorite. Made by… I didn’t know how to sign the word I wanted, so I pointed to my own wings. Like me.

She made a sign like wings beating the air, then finger spelled E-u-r-o-s-i.

I mimicked the sign. Yes.

Do you know him? She pointed to the name of the author.

No. Before I was… I hesitated. B-o-r-n.

She made a sign that I copied. Born. I was learning.

The lady at the counter set my bag down. “It’s ready, miss.”

Ellis saw my head turn and signed quickly, I come here on T-u-e-s-d-a-y.

I smiled. I will see you again.

She signed goodbye, and so did I, before standing and going to get my bagged cinnamon roll, pleasantly warm through the paper.

I looked towards the door to see almost the whole room watching me. Ellis’ grandfather waved me over. I came to stand next to his table, ready to be rebuked, when he held my hands in his rough ones, firm yet gentle. “Thank you for talking with her. She’s been depressed lately. You made her day.”

I was rather startled. “I… um. Of course. I hope we can speak again soon.”

He nodded and released my hands. “Gods bless you.”

I left the bakery, eyes stinging.

----

I returned to the square, munching on the cinnamon roll, to find Nnoa with a big can of liquid. “You’re early.”

“Nothing for me?” They whined playfully.

“I’m poor,” I deadpanned. “Unlike your sugar mommy.”

“Dee is my rare and treasured friend,” they grinned sharply.

“Treasured is right.” I tried to sound sarcastic but the jab accidentally came out wistful.

Nnoa’s grin widened. “Tell me more.”

“No. Come on, let’s do this.”

They shrugged, pulled their hat down, and popped open the lid of the canister.

----

Lucky.

I was lucky.

That’s what I told myself as the crowd began to gather.

I was lucky to have made it this far. Lucky to be alive.

Shrill had really delivered on his promise. Already there were almost fifty people filling the square. At this rate, we would soon have four times that.

Speaking of Shrill, he was lurking in the shadow of a nearby tree. I could only see him because I already knew he was there. Otherwise, it would be impossible with only the light of the street lamps and the oil lamps that were lit on the stage behind the podium.

I lounged on the steps behind the stage with Roman and a few other rebels. Nnoa couldn’t stay for some reason, and Dee would arrive later. In the meantime, I was getting to know the others.

Well, somewhat. In reality I was sitting with my right wing stretched in front of me, running my fingers through my feathers and lamenting that I had put off preening for so long. My feathers were overly oily and many were mussed and out of place. Preening combs were expensive, and doing it by hand was time consuming. I was listening as the others talked, discussing some kind of antislavery coup in the south.

Bessie, a small Tabaxi with white fur, sat cross legged on the grass, leaning forward as she relayed the gossip she had heard. The newspapers didn’t give all the details. “The poor guy was hiding in the forest, and the militias burned him out. He was half dead when they got him, but apparently they hanged him anyway.”

The Lizardkin next to Roman winced. I think their name was Mitz. “Ugh. Imagine being murdered for wanting a free life.”

I paused in my preening and shot a glance at Roman, his crimson scales a deep maroon in the dim light. His Dragonborn face was unreadable. I wanted to know how he had escaped the Dragonborn caverns, why he hadn’t been hunted. But he didn’t volunteer any information.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dee walking across the square towards us, hauling a voluminous, heavy looking fabric bundled in her arms and trailing behind her.

I shot to my feet, and Roman stood slowly behind me with a snort of amusement. I snapped my head towards him, hating how hot my face felt. I must’ve growled or something because the Dragonborn gave me a toothy grin that would have been frightening if it didn’t come from Roman. He brushed past me and strode over to Dee, easily taking the big curtains from her. I followed closely behind.

“Bonjo,” Dee said, smoothing her fine clothing and that ridiculous frilled shirt. She smiled at me, and I think my heart stuttered. She looked so unfairly good in this lighting, even a little sweaty and out of breath. “Are you ready to scare them, Asani Chans?”

Roman chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the correct word,” he said, his steps eating up the ground back to the stage. We fell in behind him.

“I hope I am.” I said, not willing to admit how hard this had been.

Arduous. Onerous. Vexatious.

I shook myself out of it and hopped up on the stage to help Roman put up the curtain. He held it up while I slid the pole through it and set it on the adjacent beams to hold it in place.

The crowd was filling up. But I had reached my capacity for anxiety today. I couldn’t afford to let it bother me. This would not be the day I developed a fear of public speaking.

Shrill was there when we returned to the others, his swirling black cloud concealed further by the curtain. “You’re starting in five minutes.”

I trotted down the stairs, my wings- oily, unpreened wings- widening slightly to hold my balance. “Are you kidding? That’s early.”

“We don’t want the Imperials shutting us down too early,” he replied.

I shot a look at Dee, who shrugged. They knew better than I did, I guess. “Alright then. Five minutes.”

Shrill shifted towards the other rebels. “Bessie, Mitz, you two work the crowd with the others. Roman, I want you beside Cliff in case things escalate. Désirée, keep an eye out back here.”

They all made various noises of assent and Shrill whisked away into the shadows. As the others moved to their positions, I went back to picking fussily over my wings.

“Is something wrong?” Dee asked. I looked up.

“No. I mean, not really. My wings are messy and I just noticed. It takes almost a full day to preen on my own.” I sighed.

“I thought there were combs for your feathers.” She tilted her head slightly, hair falling over her shoulder.

I looked away, nibbled at my lip before schooling my face back into place. “Yeah. But they have to be custom made. There are tiny, unique hooks on our featherlets that hold them together, and the combs have to be made to hook them together. It’s pricy.”

“Ah? Interesting. I did not know. Well, I can give you help.” She said with a small smile.

“No!” I said sharply, harsher than I intended.

She scrunched up her nose. “Oh.”

My face burned. “Sorry. I just… I don’t like…” I struggled for the words.

“Like the other night at the bar. You don’t like the touch.” Her eyes softened.

“Yeah. It’s kind of painful.” I admitted. “It’s a habit.”

“I understand,” she said, hesitating a moment before placing a hand on my shoulder.

I tried to loosen up, forcing my shoulders to lower. Dee was smaller than me by a bit, so she had to reach up. I looked down to find her jeweled eyes studying my face and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

I was saved by Roman poking his snout through the curtains. “Time to shine, ‘Sani.”

I gulped and pulled away from Dee, trying to lengthen my shaky steps into a confident stride that my heart just wasn’t in.

---------‐-

Oh my god. I was going to make this longer but it was too much already and honestly, the past three weeks have been crisis after crisis. Including but not limited to: minor family emergency, Thanksgiving shenanigans, broken phone, and seeing Florence Pugh in Hawkeye.

I'm not even kidding. Yelena floored me like a friggin steamroller and I was in lesbian psychosis for like two days. It was really bad.

Next up: selling my soul to the baking demons for the next four days until my local market days. It might be a while before Chapter 8.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 6

Sapped.

Knackered.

Enervated.

I lifted my head with a start up from my desk for the fourth time that afternoon.

Ugh. I looked down to see the ink on my paper smudged. I ran my hand over my forehead and it came back dotted with black splotches. Great.

I waved the paper to dry the smudges, then turned it to its blank side and glanced over at the math book I had borrowed from Arwen. It was hard to read with the curtains drawn, but the sunlight made my hangover even worse. It felt like a dwarf beating my skull with brass knuckles. I could hardly hold my wings up- they drooped and spilled off the chair, tips brushing the floor.

I was well-versed in math, of course. Obviously. But it didn’t hurt to brush up before I started work in four days.

Arwen and I had stumbled home late this morning. She had wobbled off to bed like a hungover zombie- a lightweight, like Nnoa- and I hadn’t heard her stir since.

As good as sleep sounded right now, I had work to do. I wanted to do my best- show Mr. Felix that I was worthy of his help, of the help of the islanders. Show Mr. Uzun what I could do, prove him right. And… make my mother proud.

I shook my head, ran a hand through my hair. I might have a little alcohol still in my system. I usually wasn’t so sentimental.

I forced my eyes to focus as I penned out equations and algorithms with the black feather I had plucked from my wing. I got through a third of the page before I started drooping again, my inkstained hand shivering, my eyelids heavy.

I shook myself and stood up sharply, tossing my feather into the trash bin. I needed to eat. That would help. And I was down to my last set of clean clothes, so I needed to ask Arwen where her laundry supplies were when she got up.

I left my room and crept down the lacquered stairs towards the kitchen. I quickly found the bread box and started the gas stove, then put a cast iron pan on. I cut two slices of bread from the loaf and set them on the pan to toast.

One of my biggest shortcomings- I prayed no one found out, for the sake of my pride- was my uselessness in a kitchen. I knew how a stove worked, how to cook eggs and canned soup and toast bread, and that had gotten me through the past few years just fine, so I didn’t have the need to learn anything else.

Once, I tried to bake a cake for my eighteenth birthday. I saved up for a couple months for the ingredients, studied every cookbook I could get my hands on- regrettably few- and when the day finally came, I was excited.

The mess I made was one for the history books, and if there was a deity for baking, I had unwittingly killed them with my incompetence. So many ingredients and so much time gone to waste. I hadn’t tried since.

I pulled the toast off onto a plate and slathered both pieces with butter as Arwen walked in, still in her clothes from last night, shirt untucked and pants characteristically wrinkled. Her hair and feathers were an unbrushed mess and I caught a glimpse of her eyebrow as she reached under a wing to rub her hidden eyes. She slouched over to the counter.

I grabbed one piece of buttered toast and passed her the plate. She grunted at me- either thanks or disgust for how I held my food- and dug into her toast like a starving animal bound eternally to manners.

I, on the other hand, did not care and stuffed half the toast into my mouth on the first bite.

She finished quickly and set the plate in the sink. “Thanks.”

“Ohwahwum,” I mumbled around my food. She scrunched her nose at me, and I laughed before grimacing at the pounding in my head.

Arwen made a pained noise, and put a kettle on the stove before digging in a cupboard:

“Oh, I don’t want to drink your tea, I know it’s pricy these days-“

“Shut up. I’m rich and I have no one to share it with. You’ll drink the tea and like it.”

Too fatigued- and humbled- to argue, I sat at the breakfast nook and laid my head on the table.

“You have ink on your forehead, you know.” Arwen observed as she measured out the tea.

“I know,” I muttered into the wood.

“…okay.” She noted.

I half fell asleep on the table, roused only when she set an earthenware mug of steaming tea in front of me.

“Sugar?” She asked.

I eyed her.

“Okay, no sugar. Relax, ‘Sani.” She smirked.

Sani? I wasn’t one for nicknames, but I guess it was fine. I had never been close enough with someone for one. I had always been Asani Chans.

I blew on the surface of my steaming drink before sipping.

“So, you and Désirée, huh?”

I choked on my tea, set my mug down as I coughed and heaved. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and I knew my face was red. “Excuse me?”

Arwen smirked and brought her mug to her lips. “Sorry. I just thought… you two seemed close last night.”

“We were like, really smashed.” I huffed defensively, throwing in an eye roll for good measure.

“If you say so.” Her smirk widened and I thought about smacking her.

“I do.” I harrumphed and went back to my tea. Okay, maybe Dee was gorgeous, and brave, but she was a rich merkin noble and I was a pauper from the poorest island around. I didn’t have a shot.

But the way her eyes sparkled… I did sort of wish they would sparkle at me.

I felt my face heating again and tamped down my wandering thoughts. Then I caught Arwen's eyes again.

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

Her smile grew. “I didn’t say anything!”

I finished my tea. “I should get back to work.”

“Working on your speech?”

My eyes slid to her suspiciously. “How did you know about that.”

“You were talking about it last night. Wow, you were drunk.” Her expression flattened into one of concern. I didn’t like it. “You know how I feel about that.”

I stood up. “I might owe you, but you’re not my boss.”

“I know that. I’m not trying to stop you- I think it’s a good thing.”

I paused. “Wait. Really? You’re not mad?”

“A rebellion… it’s going to happen anyway. Maybe it doesn’t have to come to violence. At least you’re not leading a riot.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“Why don’t you come? They only have a small group here. You’d be welcomed.” I grinned.

She shirked, lips twisting. “N-no, no. I’m not… I don’t want to be involved.”

“Why not? If you believe in this, help us fight for it!” My heart sank.

“I said no. I have too much to live for.”

“And we don’t?” I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t right. But the words had left my mouth like the bullet from the barrel of a pistol, and Arwen recoiled as if struck. I saw her whole body droop.

“That’s not what I meant…” she said in a low voice.

I bit my lip, mentally kicking myself. “That’s not what I meant either. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

“Listen, I’ll come to your speech, okay? I’ll be there.” She tried to compromise, turning her gaze up to me.

I nodded, a shot of energy zapping through me. That was good- that was very good. It was progress, we were still friends despite… my best efforts. “Okay. Yeah. I’m going to… get back to work.”

She lowered her gaze back to her tea. “Good luck. I’m here if you need me.”

I froze mid turn. Need her? I didn’t need anyone.

But it was… nice. Finally having someone in my corner- or halfway in my corner. In the same room as my corner, at least.

I padded back to the stairs, up to my room, back to my desk. I forgot to ask her about the laundry, but it could wait. Everything could wait.

I had work to do.

—-----

The page was blank save for three words. Three pathetic words.

Ladies and gentlemen.

I clutched my head in my hands. I had never had writer’s block this bad. I felt abysmal. Any words I came up with felt disingenuous and mundane.

A groan similar to that of a dying animal rumbled from my chest, and I stood up, pushing my chair back. It was late afternoon, I had gone through half a ream of paper and three quills. This was going nowhere. I was going to fail Shrill and the rebellion.

The pride I had seen in Dee’s eyes. I was going to fail her.

I paced the room, feeling for all the world like a creature in a cage. I had never written an address. I had no idea what I was doing.

I moved to the window and threw open the curtains, flinching at the sudden sunshine, then looked over the residential streets.

A few people were out enjoying the autumn weather. Students chatting and strolling along the sidewalk. I spotted some older people who could only be teachers.

All of them were humans. Why was I surprised? If you weren’t human and weren’t rich, you could only afford the dorms. Like Roman, Nnoa, and Dee.

Then I saw a Beastman turn the corner. He was elderly, from the looks of his fur, graying on the tips. He- impressively- was carrying a couch. A human walked behind him, supervising.

Slavery. Bile rose in my throat.

Useful bile.

I turned back to my desk, stared at those three words. Back to the elderly Beastman.

Maybe this address couldn’t be confined to the paper. Maybe it shouldn’t be.

The problems were too vast to be contained in ink, controlled with a quill. They ran far deeper than parchment.

They were around me, indescribable yet painfully clear, in a way that I couldn’t capture in words.

Not like this, anyway.

I pulled a feather from my wing and plunged it into my inkpot.

---------------------------------

Something that short should absolutely not have taken me two weeks. I have no excuses.

Oh wait I do! Carpal Tunnel in my right hand as of the past few days has made typing a chore. But with stretching and a brace, I'll be okay :)

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 5

Nnoa let me down the street, around the back of a building, in through the alley door.

It seemed to be an old newspaper building, with old papers framed in broken glass on the walls, old desks and…

My mouth watered.

Typewriters. Missing keys and parts, but with a little care, they would be good as new. Imagine how much I could write-

Nnoa prodded me with a cattish smile. “Wake up, Asani Chans.”

I shook myself from the half-dream I was in and finally noticed the people around- less than twenty, perched on tables and old chairs and talking. A few eyed me, but not many. I stared back, steadying myself.

There were all kinds of people in this rebellion, but not many individuals. But the strangest one was standing- or what I assumed was standing- at the biggest desk at the end of the office.

Nnoa led me towards the shifting, vaguely humanoid cloud of shadows looking over some papers. It took all my willpower not to turn and bolt as the shadows looked up at me, a glint of luminescent white eyes peering through the inky clouds.

Roman and Dee stood beside him, watching me approach. Nnoa and I stopped in front of the desk, and I felt as if the shadows were analyzing every shred of my soul.

“I’ve never seen… a wraith before,” I said helpfully.

“And I’ve never seen a Eurosi. I’m Shrill. Pleased to meet, Asani.” The wraith spoke in a gravelly but otherwise normal voice. He looked back down at the papers littering his desk.

“It’s Asani Chans,” I hissed, demanding his attention, respect. I would not be looked down on or dismissed. Roman and Dee exchanged an amused look before ambling away. Nnoa pulled their flask back out and followed.

Shrill looked up at me in interest. “They were right. You do have a spirit.”

“And you are a spirit.”

Shrill straightened. I saw the peek of an ashy hand before it disappeared back beneath the swirling shadows once more. “Is that what they taught you? No, Asani Chans. Wraiths have lived on this continent as long as Beastmen. Centuries ago, when my ancestors saw what the Imperials were doing to our native friends, we disappeared. We are shadow, after all.”

I fought the urge to shirk under his intense gaze. “Why return now?”

“There aren’t many of us left. If we drive out the humans, then my people will be restored to their former glory. But please. You’re here to tell me your story.” He pulled up the chair behind him and sat… I assumed.

“My whole story? Who cares about that?”

“Humor me.”

I snatched a chair from a nearby table and sat as well, leaning on the desk. As much as I wanted to leave or snark the wraith into the ground, I wanted this more. I wanted to be part of this, to help.

 “Well, I came here from the East Isles-“

“Why?”

“Well, a hurricane-“

“No, why really.”

I stared him down for a moment, any trepidation I had gone.

“Because I have no one. My mother is dead, and I’ll honor her by making our name known.”

He shifted. “Interesting. Why law?”

“She was abandoned by my father with no source of income. She couldn’t even prosecute him. I chose law to protect people like her who can’t protect themselves.” I raised my chin a little. “And for the money.” I added, feeling a little too soft for my own comfort. Better for him to think I was selfish than pathetic.

“Justice. I like it. That’s what we want too. Asani Chans, we are on the brink of outright war.” Shrill stood and floated/paced in a short line. I occasionally saw a glimpse of moving legs through the tempest of shadows that grazed the floor.

“The Imperials as a whole aren’t worried about us, they even deny the existence of a rebellion. But the individuals know better. That’s why that pub burned. The unpunishable actions of one Imperial soldier. A widow is left jobless and dependent because of him.”

I shot to my feet as well. “Not to mention the treatment of the Beastmen, the natives of this continent! Slaves, nannies, scapegoats, all for the sake of lazy human brutality.”

Shrill seemed to shoot Nnoa an unreadable look. “Precisely. An-“

I was on a roll now. I couldn’t stop now that my rage was pouring out like a hurricane.

“They treat us like animals, less than people, like we’re nothing more than mindless beasts of burden- but we have souls, and hearts, and ambitions! Perhaps a hundred years ago we lived in peace, but those humans are long dead, and the ones we have now are self-righteous and greedy.”

I jumped up on the desk in a fit of passion, scattering the papers. The whole office was watching me now, but I didn’t care, spreading my wings wide and throwing more papers with their force. “You see these? I was made to fly. But thanks to them, no Eurosi has ridden the wind in over a century. No Beastman has seen freedom. No Seraphi has had a vision. All because they decided that our magic was safer with them, making weapons and fighting their wars across the sea. And we have lost our ways of life, our autonomy.”

I scanned the crowd. “If you and I fight back now, our children have a chance to grow up with what we didn’t have. Flight. Fire. Magic.”

The room was dead silent, except for my heavy, angry panting. Dee watched me, her jewel-like eyes wide with what I hoped was pride, her frills pricked forward. Roman’s face crinkled into a dragon-smile, and he crossed his arms confidently. Nnoa tucked their flask away and gave me a thumbs up, flashing sharp teeth I didn’t question in the heat of my fury.

Shrill finally spoke. “Asani Chans, I have your first assignment.”

——————

I pushed open the door of Arwen’s house, head anywhere but here as I made my way to the living room.

I was ecstatic at the assignment Shrill had given me- nervous, of course, but ecstatic nonetheless. In a week, he was going to organize a public meeting, inviting the whole city. And I was going to speak to them, whip them into a usable, rebellious frenzy. Could I even inspire a whole city? Piss them off, maybe.

I had expected Arwen to be in bed already, but she was sitting in an armchair with an oil lamp, papers on the coffee table and a textbook on her lap. She glanced up at me. “How did it go?”

I opened the paper bag and pulled out the boxed cinnamon roll I had gotten for her. It was no longer hot, but was still moist and good. I thought about telling her about my assignment, but she looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to get her worked up. “I got a job. A law firm called J&S took me on as an accountant. I start next week.”

She lit up at the sight of the cinnamon roll in a way that made me think that no one really brought her things. “Oh… for me? Thank you- and good job.”

I smiled and sat on the couch next to her armchair, pulling out my own cinnamon roll and surveying the papers around her as I picked up the pastry with my bare hands and took a big bite of the iced bread. “What’s this?”

Arwen curled her mouth in disgust at me as I rawdogged the sticky roll. “What are you? I do own forks.”

I shrugged. “I own hands.” I mumbled through a mouthful of spiced gluten.

She snorted, set her textbook aside, then moved to the kitchen, returning a moment later with her cinnamon roll on a nice ceramic plate and a metal fork. She delicately placed a cloth napkin next to me, then sat back in her armchair. “I’m just brushing up on last year’s material. Class starts in two weeks, so I might as well get ready.”

“Can I borrow that later?” I asked, trying to sound confident. I’d never had anyone to… share things with.

Arwen met my eyes from beneath the creamy feathers that concealed them as if she wasn’t used to people asking things of her. “Oh, of course, I mean if you want. That bookshelf is all law books.” She gestured to a thick, heavy bookshelf on the wall perpendicular to the fireplace.

 I finished off the cinnamon roll, wiped my hands on the cloth napkin, then stood and moved over to browse the bookshelf. Foundations of law, natural law, moral philosophy, homesteading and land grants- many of the books were older, but most of them seemed recently purchased and up to date. The size and price of the collection nearly made me salivate. “What a library…”

“My mother always insisted on my education. If I was curious about anything, she bought a few books on the topic for me.” Arwen said from her seat as she ate her cinnamon roll.

She kept talking while I browsed the books. “I would read them to my father in the evenings. He was so proud that I loved to learn.”

Male Seraphi- they were naturally blind, their head wings tight over their useless eyes. I pulled a book on financial fraud from the shelf and moved back to my seat catty-corner from Arwen. “They sound like good people.” I said tentatively, unsure of how to comfort her.

“They were.” She polished off the cinnamon roll and set her plate and fork on the table.

I cracked open my book, and she went back to her textbook.

We read in silence for maybe half an hour before she stood and stretched. “I’m going to bed. Can you put out the lamp when you’re finished please?”

“Sure, goodnight.” I mumbled, pretending to be engrossed in my book.

Arwen padded off to her bedroom. I waited until she was gone, then leaned forward to the coffee table and pushed her textbook aside to look at the paper she had been writing on.

A study guide. She was making a beginner’s study guide. But why? She was going into her third year-

Oh. She was making a study guide for me. I blinked as the realization hit me.

If she had been anyone else, I might have been offended, perhaps indignant. Did she think I couldn’t handle myself, that I was stupid? But Arwen, who I had known for all of three days, felt like the beginnings of a friend.

She seemed… not shy, but unsure. Awkward, like she wasn’t used to having friends either, and was much worse than me at hiding it. She was trying to help me.

I moved the textbook back over the papers the way it had been before setting my own book aside and standing up. I put out the lamp, then left the living room and made my way up the stairs to my room.

—--------------------

 This bar was farther than the one that burned down. Brighter -as far as bars went- and more populated, with two bartenders and a waitress. The patrons, like Sesei’s patrons, were mostly non-human, but I saw a few humans huddled together here and there. The chatter and drunken singing was loud enough to mask our words, but Roman warned that this place wasn’t as rebel-friendly.

“To Arwen finally getting out of the house!” Nnoa, already tipsy, swung their pint high, liquor splashing from their uncoordinated toast.

Dee and I exchanged a grin as we all indulged Nnoa in their toast, tapping our mugs together.

“To Arwen, then.” Roman said, looking towards the Seraphi, who timidly joined the toast.

I had convinced her to come out with us to spend the evening at this new bar. I liked Roman, Dee, and Nnoa, and I was suspecting that we were friends now. It didn’t escape me that Arwen had once been close with them, before they joined the rebellion.

I drank from my glass, feeling the bitter liquor burn a path down my throat and warm my chest.

“So, Cliff, you working on your big speech for next week?” Roman asked, amber eyes twinkling.

I cringed. “It’s a… work in progress.” Truth be told, I had hardly half a page of material. I had never written for anyone but myself or Mr. Felix before, so writing a speech for a city was quite daunting. I didn’t have any issues with public speaking, though, so hopefully I would sort it all out in the next six days.

“It is very aspiring,” Dee smiled at me, eyes glittering like sea glass.

“Exciting,” Roman corrected gently.

“Yeah, that.” Dee said good naturedly.

Arwen’s eyes flicked behind me to alert me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a young human man, perhaps a student, approaching, eyes fixed on me. Immediately his gaze struck me as sharp but not quite intelligent.

I turned back towards my companions and took a deep gulp of my liquor, ignoring his presence as he annoyingly planted a hand on the back of my chair.

Roman raised his eye ridges in amusement. Nnoa scrunched up their nose and looked away into their drink. Dee bared her teeth a bit, showing the sharp points. And Arwen stared him down.

“Hey. I love the boyish look, it’s so… exotic. How about I buy you a drink?”

I didn’t turn to face him. I wasn’t exactly used to being the one to be hit on, more the reverse, but I was in power and I didn't like this guy's attitude. “No thanks. I’m drunk enough.”

“Aw, come on, girl. Playing hard to get is no fun.” He loomed over me, but I managed to keep myself firmly in check. No need for a scene. I slid my eyes over to Dee, who was… waiting. To help.

I didn’t need help. “Do you approach all the ladies like a hippo in the spring?”

Roman gave an amused rumble. But his eyes went wide as the man slammed his hand down on the ridge of my right wing. A tsunami of emotions went through me, rendering me paralyzed for a moment.

“Any other island whore would love to spend a night with me,” he sneered.

Before I could shake myself out of it, Dee was on her feet and the man was on the ground, clutching the jaw she had likely broken with the force of her swing.

The bar went silent as she planted a boot on his chest, leaning down to stare into his eyes, frightened like a cornered prey animal. She was quiet, controlled, precise as she leaned down to his face, showing her sharp teeth, jewel eyes practically glowing like an otherworldly flame.

“Fuck off,” she whispered.

She let him squirm for a second before pulling her boot off and gliding back over to her seat, sitting and picking up her glass, finishing off the liquor. He scrambled up and left the bar without his friends.

I gaped at her, momentarily forgetting the shock of having my wing callously grabbed. I had figured she had moxie, but to deck a guy? For a Eurosi she just met?

“Th-thank you.” I stuttered. No one had ever stood up for me like that, besides Mr. Felix.

“Always do,” she shrugged.

I blinked at her incoherent sentence. Roman was about to correct her when she corrected herself.

“Oops, I mean anytime!” She grinned.

I smiled back, admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

Arwen cautiously touched my shoulder. “Are you feeling alright? Do you want to go back to the house?” I was sure she understood how rattling it can be for someone to touch your wings- she had her own, after all. Unlike the others, who were glad that was over and trying to move on, she was checking that I was alright. They didn’t understand- and how could they, with no wings of their own?

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “I’ll be okay. Moping won’t help.” I tried for a brave smile, but I knew it was shaky.

She removed her hand. “If you say so.”

I looked back over to the others. Roman was practically holding Nnoa down to keep them from going to fight the other humans, which obviously wouldn’t go well considering their stature. It wasn’t hard to force a laugh, though the adrenaline was still fading and I was pretty sure my hands were shaking. I clenched them tighter around my glass and tried to move on.

My mind wandered to Roman as I watched him grapple-somewhat- with his little friend. What was a Dragonborn doing out of the caverns? Why was he the ‘exception to the rule,’ as he had said? I sensed it was a sensitive topic. He was clearly the glue of their friendship, big brotherly towards Dee and Nnoa- and perhaps me. He seemed too kind to have spent his lifetime as a slave in an underground forge.

And what was Nnoa exactly? I wasn’t stupid- they weren’t human. They were short, always wore that hat and baggy pants, had sharp canines and eyes that weren’t quite the usual. I suspected the ears of a Tabaxi under their hat, but why hide it?

I was shaken out of my thoughts as Dee ordered another round of drinks. Arwen tried to insist on paying, pulling out her money purse, but Dee shushed her until she gave up.

Arwen, Roman and Nnoa had once been friends- that’s what they had said. Before the rebellion had torn them apart.

Why? Why hadn’t Arwen joined? She wasn’t against it, clearly. And she was no coward. I supposed she just didn’t want to be on whichever side lost.

———

Two hours and four drinks later, I stumbled down the street, the oil lamps the only light. My arm was linked with Dee’s, who was trying sluggishly to teach me Merkin.

“Aaaa…pandoa…” I slurred, the word an effort.

“Nah, nah, apanchoa…” She made a sound I couldn’t physically replicate.

Roman walked beside us, the only vaguely sober one of our group. Arwen was laid over one broad shoulder, Nnoa on the other, both knocked out peacefully, his arms keeping them secure. “Shh, you two keep it down. You’ll wake up the neighborhood.”

I wasn’t sure where we were going. “Nooo!” I sang dramatically, almost falling flat on my face if not for Dee. “I will never be quiet!”

He sighed, went up to one of the dorm houses lining the street. It was small, but fine for three friends, their home. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door, bumping it open while Dee joined me in our rebellious singing, following him inside.

“Time for bed,” Roman said, setting Arwen down on the couch. He went through another door and came back without Nnoa.

“No beeeed-“ I protested like an underpaid opera singer, but he pushed me onto the couch with one strong, scaly, taloned hand before ushering Dee to her room.

I tried to fight- I was having so much fun- but I was also feeling very warm, and very tired, and before I knew it my head lolled and I was out beside Arwen.

--------

That took me *way* too long to finish, but hey, it's a longer one and who cares anyway?? I'm having fun!

I love my gang of hooligans so much- Arwen is such a sad lil cutie patootie and I can't wait to drop everyone's lore.

[prismcypher404]

Psychological Manipulation

I'm working on the next chapter, but while I do I have a mental health tip that's kind of stupid but weirdly effective

You know the Simpsons?

So every time you think something bad about yourself/mess up and beat yourself up about it, imagine a little Nelson in your head. Make him as vivid as possible. See him point at you.

"Haa-haa."

This completely invalidates your bad thoughts by framing them as ridiculous.

Also Nelson is cool.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 4

I rose with the sun, as usual, throwing open the curtains. There was a small desk in the room Arwen was lending me, so I sat, pulled my ink pot and ream of paper closer, then reached back and plucked a quill from my wings with a prick of pain. After a quick sharpen with my penknife, I dipped the tip into the ink and watched it come out as black as the feather itself, then put quill to paper and began writing.

I wrote out my thoughts so far of the morning. I wrote my plans for the day. I calculated how much money I owed Arwen so far- I would pay her back for her kindness.

Then I grabbed a new leaf of paper and began writing a letter home, to Mr. Felix and the rest of the island.

When I was finished, I left my room to go across the hall into the spare washroom. There I splashed my face with water and ran a comb through my silver hair. I allowed myself to preen for a moment before going downstairs.

Arwen wasn’t up yet, it seemed. Everything was dark and quiet, so I opened a few windows to let the sun in, got a quick cup of tea down, then stepped outside.

I needed a job ASAP. I had barely any money left, and I would not be mooching off of Arwen for the rest of my college years. In fact, I was going to pay her back. So I set off down the road, passing by a few people as I walked.

As I left the university area, I passed the pub where I would meet Roman, Dee, Nnoa, and the rebellion leader Shrill tonight. Right now it was empty and quiet.

The number and density of people I passed grew as I neared downtown New Vita, where shops lined the roads and a large grassy square dominated the central square. Already there were people with picnic baskets and blankets there, couples and families and friends eating breakfast together.

Desiderium. Saudade. Melancholy. Longing for something… I’ve never had.

I watched a young family for a moment. The last time I had held someone like that child clung to her mother… death struck.

I shook myself out of it and looked around me. I saw a few enslaved Beastmen running errands or watching children. Slavery made me feel disgusted, angry, my soul chomping at the bit. I clung to that simmering revulsion- it felt much better than sadness.

Grief hadn’t gotten me anywhere in life. But fighting and working and writing had kept me alive.

I walked down the street with a purpose, ignoring the few people- mostly humans- who stared blatantly at my wings. I saw a few hiring signs in various store windows, but nothing for me. I was above a janitorial job. My skills laid in accounting and writing. I would do best in clerking.

But once I had walked through most of downtown New Vita and found nothing, I started to get concerned. I approached a newsstand and picked up a newspaper, intending to look through the advertisement section.

“Hey, you gotta pay for that.”

I glared at the dwarf standing on a stool in the newsstand. “I’m just checking the ads. Relax.”

“You read, you pay, kid.” He frowned

Whatever. I fished a copper bit out of my pocket, tossed it to him, snatched the newspaper and sauntered over out of the way of foot traffic, scanning the ads as I did. I tucked one hand into my waistcoat. Waiter jobs, maid jobs, construction and dock work, student teachers at Starkcane…. Here we go, an accountant job for a law firm. It was a couple streets down.

Perfect- working at a law firm would help me with the Law Program for sure. And I had worked with Mr. Felix since I was sixteen, too underfed and scrawny for dock work, but too smart to pass by. That was what he told me. Surely four years of clerking for a medium-sized trading company would be enough of a resume for a small local law firm.

Determined to get this job, I tucked the newspaper under my arm and made my way down the street and in the direction that the advertisement had said the law firm was. It was going to be a beautiful day, the slight fall chill in the air being burned away by the growing warmth of the sun. Fluffy cotton clouds drifted lazily in the blue sky. I sighed through my nose.

The law firm was a nice building built of stone- possibly limestone-, with a finely manicured front and transom windows open to let in the beautiful day. I pushed the door open and stepped into a waiting room lined with chairs. There was a young woman at the front desk, bright with a painted face. She looked up at me with a warm smile before noticing I was not human. Her face dropped a bit at that.

So, she didn’t like people not like her. These people were the most fun to play with.

I leaned on her desk with the most charming smile I could muster, lowering my lids as I looked down at her. “Hello, gorgeous. I’m here about the accountant advertisement you’ve got in the newspaper.” I purred.

She recoiled, her face turning an amusing shade of red. “I.. I, um, I’ll tell Mr. Santos you’re here…”

“Thank you, dear.” I cooed, then turned and went to take a seat in one of the chairs. I felt her eyes on me, my wings, as I did, but ignored her and flicked open my newspaper, skimming through the articles. Tax rates, commodity prices, Imperial propaganda. Some trading ship was seized by the Merkin, adding to tensions. I thought of Désirée. Excuse me, Dee. I wasn’t used to nicknames.

Why was she in the Anruin Colonies? Clearly she was a noble. Beautiful, rich… hanging out with a group of rebellion-bound college students.

I was pulled out of my reverie by a middle-aged, rotund man opening the door to what I assumed was the rest of the building. How would I describe him? Ruddy. Round.

“You here about the job?” He grumbled at me.

I stood, strode over to him and extended my hand. “Yes sir. Asani Chans Cliff. I worked for the East Isles Tra-”

He ignored my hand. “I don’t care who you worked for. We don’t hire your kind.”

I paused in surprise, my hand drooping and my wings spreading in indignation. “Excuse me?”

He leaned forward, squinting his piggy eyes. “I said, we… don’t… hire…”

“I heard you!” I barked. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was the head clerk of the East Isles Trading Company for four years. I am overqualified for this job!”

He sneered. “A kid like you? What are you, seventeen?”

“You are a stupid, whining whelp-”

“If you’re going to keep slandering your superior, I will call the police.” His fat lips curled into a smile that told me he would take much joy in doing so.

Then he turned and left, slamming the door in my face.

I stood there helplessly for a moment. I wanted to go after him, to break his nose for doubting me, for trying to make me feel like less. If he only knew who I was, what I could do….

But there was no point. I turned and stalked for the door.

“Wait,” The receptionist said as I passed her desk. I paused, and she passed me a business card for another law firm. I studied it, then looked up to her suspiciously.

She blushed. “That was- I mean, that was wrong. What he said. But that firm isn’t like him.”

I tilted my head, regarding her in a new light. “Thank you, miss.”

“Of course. Good luck.” She smiled.

I bowed my head, then tucked the card into my pocket and left the building.

This law firm was down the street, so I kept walking. The card said J&S on it- I assumed that was the name of the firm.

Why had the receptionist helped me? Referred me to a rival law firm? Surely not just because I had flirted with her.

J&S was much smaller than the other law firm, though it was also built of stone. When I stepped inside, there was a small lobby with three chairs. The receptionist had black pointed ears on top of his head and feline yellow eyes- a Tabaxi.

“Oh, I’m sorry. We were just about to close for lunch,” he said, standing, his thin black tail swishing languidly behind him.

“Pardon me, then. Are you hiring?” I asked, trying not to sound as tentative as I felt.

“Actually, yes. We’ve been looking for an accountant. Are you here to apply?”

I stood a little straighter. “I am. But I can return after lunch if-”

“That won’t be necessary.” I looked to the partially opened door to the offices as a Goliath man stepped through. He was almost eight feet tall, with rich coffee-colored skin and hair in neat cornrows. He was dressed sharply and in good taste without being extravagant.

“I was wondering why the doors were so high,” I said before I could stop myself.

The Goliath smiled and extended his large hand to me. “I couldn’t help but hear you wanted the accountant job. I’m Jossi Uzun, and I co-own J&S. Would you like to discuss it over lunch?”

I beamed and shook his hand. His grip was firm, so I matched it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Uzun. I’m Asani Chans Cliff. And I would be glad to discuss it with you.”

“Excellent. My cousin owns the deli at the end of this street. Shall we, Miss Cliff?”

The deli was a quaint wooden building in perfect position to receive clientele from the various businesses in this part of town. Mr. Uzun and I were seated by a young Goliath woman who could only be his cousin by the way they greeted each other.

Mr. Uzun sat across the table from me as his cousin went to get us some coffee. “So, Miss Cliff, do you have any experience in accounting?”

I was surprised his first words weren’t about how I was an Eurosi and that he didn’t see many around here. It was refreshing.

“Yes, sir. I was the clerk for Mr. Felix of the East Isles Trading Company for four years.”

He angled his head curiously and he looked down at me. “Four years?”

“I started when I was sixteen and left just a few weeks ago to come to the Anruin Colonies,” I explained.

He raised his eyebrows. “So you’re a sharp one, I gather, Miss Cliff.”

“I suppose so, Mr. Uzun.” I couldn’t help but grin. His cousin set two mugs of hot coffee before us, and I gave her a small, thankful nod.

He tented his hands. “I take it you’re a student at Starkcane? Accounting?”

“Well, actually sir, I’m in the Law Program.” I corrected, then sipped the hot drink.

He barked a deep laugh, picking up his coffee. “I like you already! It takes some moxie for people like us to get into things like that.”

My smile widened. This was going great.

He leaned forward, face serious. “Miss Cliff, I’m going to be honest with you. You seem overqualified for this job, and I wish I could refer you to a bigger, better paying law firm. But unfortunately, there are almost no others that would accept you. I’m sure you understand why.”

I nodded. We both knew it was hard to be anything but human.

“So I would like to hire you as an accountant. And if you do well, which I think you will, I’ll help you get the hours you need to become a lawyer.”

I sat up straighter, pulled my wings closer. “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

Mr. Uzun went quiet for a moment. “Miss Cliff, they say… that there is no place for us in this line of work. I and my partner have worked for years to carve out this niche. And it’s very important that we don’t let it go. We keep expanding. If they won’t look at us, we make them see us.”

I held his gaze. How would I describe this Goliath? Virtuous. Resolute. I got the feeling he would get along well with Roman.

“When do I start?”

I left J&S with a new spring in my step. It took a few hours to finalize everything since I had just moved from the East Isles, and a letter to Mr. Felix would take a while to reach him, but I would start next week.

I had wanted to begin right away, but Mr. Uzun said that his partner was out of town and didn’t want me to begin without meeting her.

I basically skipped through downtown New Vita, which was quiet right now, with only a few people roaming the streets. I stopped in a bakery, spent a coin for a celebratory cinnamon roll- actually two, one for Arwen- and kept walking with the paper bag on my arm. The sun was setting, the lamplighters were out lighting up the streets.

Then I heard an alarm bell in the distance. Then two. I glanced at the sky to see a pillar of black smoke.

I knew where that was.

I started running.

___________

The pub was up in flames. Roaring, towering flames. I stood in the nearby crowd that watched as the roof collapsed in a volcano of sparks.

I saw the owner, the black and yellow Lizardfolk that had been working at the bar yesterday, the flames reflecting in her black, glossy eyes as she watched her livelihood turning to ashes.

I was shocked. Appalled. I had passed by mere hours ago… what had gone wrong?

Suddenly a small hand grabbed my arm. I almost yanked away before I noticed who it was, hat pulled down over their eyes. “Nnoa?”

They looked up at me with big brown eyes. “The Imperials did it. Asani Chans, it’s getting bad. Shrill wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t believe you even remember me,” I commented without thinking. “You were hammered last night.”

“Still am.” They pulled out a flask and took a swig before pulling me out of the crowd, a rather difficult procedure as they were even shorter than Arwen.

I liked them a lot.

After we were out, they released my arm and walked beside me, leading me away from the fire and towards the residential area of town. It took all my self-control not to look back at the blazing fire as the firewagons arrived.

“What do you mean it was the Imperials?” I hiss-whispered to Nnoa.

They looked up at me. “People saw a man in Imperial soldier garb walking the place, spreading oil. They’ve never taken such intense action against any rebellion- I don’t even know how they knew we would be there! Shrill thinks they tried to target him.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

They shook their head. “Thankfully not. But damn,” they stomped their foot in a way they was probably meant to be angry but was kind of adorable. “That was my favorite place to get plastered!”

I chuckled, then looked down at the cobblestone sidewalk. “I feel bad for the owner.”

“Sesei is heartbroken, but people are already donating to help her rebuild.” They said, taking another long sip of their flask. “The thing is, she built it with her husband before he passed away. But there’s nothing to be done now, except use this as fuel for the rebellion.” Nnoa extended the flask to me with that strange smile. “Want some?”

I paused, then grabbed the flask and tilted it to my mouth, letting the liquor burn my throat and quench my fury that was almost as high as the flames of the bar.

-------

Mmm. Arson. I was going to make this longer but I think enough has happened for one chapter. It's fine.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 3

That evening, I went out scouting for a good bar. There were none in the immediate neighborhood, but once you got just outside of the university area-

Bingo. A sleazy little place. When I stepped in, it was lit by oil lamps and sparsely populated. There wasn’t a human in here- only a few people.

I ordered a cheap ale from the bartender and sat on one of the three legged stools at the counter. The drink was nasty and likely homemade, but I downed it anyway, trying to kill my nagging sense of being out of place. I was now painfully aware that the Anruin Colonies weren't like my island.

What was the word again? Mona… monachopsis. Right, Monachopsis.

I was halfway through my second mug when someone sat next to me.

“I figured. You seem like a drinker.” Arwen said with a little smirk.

“That a bad thing?”

“No. I like a little liquor myself.” She summoned the bartender and ordered a whiskey.

I chuckled into my mug. “I thought you’d be more high-strung, law prodigy.”

“Don’t tell the administrator.” She smiled.

I liked her already.

The bartender, a black and yellow Lizardkin, looked up at one of the tables from where she was washing dishes as the table burst into action. There were three people sitting at it, and the smallest one jumped up on the rickety table, swayed for a second, then pumped their fist in the air and yelled “Revolution!”

A cacophony! I liked that word.

The other people in the bar ignored them. I watched with an incredulous smile. Arwen groaned and took a long, deep sip of her drink. “Not these guys again…”

I stood, ignoring the look she gave me, and strode over to the three people. They had coaxed their friend down from the table. I swept a hand through my short hair. One was a Dragonborn, which I had never seen before. He was broad with healthy-looking ruby scales and amused eyes.

The small one seemed human. They wore billowy pants, a shirt with the collar turned up, and a hat pulled down over their head despite being indoors. This one was tipsy, but there was a strange thing about them besides the liquor.

Then there was a woman. She wore fine clothes, as if she only knew luxury but was trying her best to fit in. She wore a ruffle shirt, a style I found rather strange, worn only by the elite or foreigners who could afford the extra material. Her hair was ebony, dense and long and shiny, flowing over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back unrestrained. She had frills on either side of her head, like the fins of a fish, mostly hidden beneath her hair, a pale purple-blue.

But it was her eyes that took me in as they flicked up to meet mine. Rimmed by dark lashes, jewelish blue-green, deep like the ocean, fierce as a hurricane.

I had been running through what I would say to introduce myself and surely sweep them all away when my jouska completely left my mind. I didn’t know what to say for a moment. Any intelligent words I had were swept away by the tides in her eyes. She grinned, and I saw sharp teeth. A merkin. She was a merkin.

I was saved by the small one. They hiccuped, snapping me out of it. “I LIKE YOUR FEATHERS,” they said far louder than was necessary. It snapped me out of my… limerence, I supposed.

The Dragonborn spoke as well, in a voice that was growling but not quite intimidating. “We don’t see Eurosi around often. Are you a student?”

I leaned on the back of an empty chair, spreading my wings a little more. They were magnificent, even if they were nonfunctional. “Yeah, Law Program at Starkcane. I’ve never met a Dragonborn. I thought your kind were locked away on the southeast coast.”

He leaned forward, studying me. “I’m the exception to the rule. As are you, it seems. My name’s Roman. This is Nnoa,” He gestured to the small one, who was putting down a shot glass and wiping their mouth with the back of their hand, “and Désirée.”

The merkin’s oceanic gaze swept over me. “You may name me Dee.” She said in a thick accent. Her voice was mellifluous.

“Call me.” Roman corrected.

“Is what I said, no?”

I lifted my chin a bit. “I’m Asani Chans, attending the Law Program at Starkcane with a full scholarship.

Nnoa let out a low whistle. “Old Arwen’s got competition now!”

I looked over to see Arwen coming up to stand beside me. “Asani Chans, you don’t want to associate with them.” But there was the slightest smile on her face.

“You know them?” I asked.

Nnoa laughed. “Know us? She used to be our friend! Well, Roman and I anyway.”

Arwen’s small smile faded, her Seraphi head wings clasping a bit tighter over her eyes. “Until you got caught up in this revolution bullshit and almost got me kicked out of Starkcane. You three are going to get yourselves killed if you’re not careful.”

Roman sipped his drink. “So you do care.”

Arwen pursed her lips and looked away. “I don’t need this. I’m going home, Asani Chans.”

I slid into the chair. “Well, I’m staying. I want to know more about this revolution.” Because revolution meant war, and war meant gaining status.

Arwen shook her head with a sigh, then turned and left.

Nnoa tilted back in their chair and threw up a hand. I noticed sharp nails on their slim fingers. “Another round on Désirée!”

I smirked. I like this kid. “What’s their deal?”

Désirée passed a few coins to the bartender as she came over with more drinks. She didn’t seem to mind paying. “Nnoa is a… how do you say? Alcoholic.”

Roman snorted in amusement. “Yeah, basically. It doesn't help that they’re a lightweight.”

Nnoa started giggling deliriously. I half-covered my smile with my hand, then turned to Désirée. “What about you? What’s a merkin noble doing here? Aren’t you at war with the humans?”

Désirée shrugged, sipping her drink. Her frills fluttered. “It is more of a tension than a war. I am here because I want to be here.” She set down her glass. “How did you know I was a noble?”

I swirled my glass. “Well, your clothes for one. They scream rich.”

Her face fell a little. Roman roared with laughter. “We told you, Dee! No one wears those frilly shirts here.”

She scrunched up her nose and sighed. “Well, I like them.”

Nnoa hiccuped. “Asani Chans said she wanted to know about the cause, Roman, come on man. Shrill wants us to recruit anyway, after the Imperials cleaned up that hideout.”

Imperials- a derogatory term for the human rule and their king across the sea. Sometimes its used to refer to the elves who side with them as well. I had hardly heard it before now, and only in hushed whispers, never so blatantly declared.

Roman sighed. “I was getting to that, Nnoa. Listen, a lot of people are getting sick of the way the Imperials treat us who… aren’t like them. Discriminating, denying them jobs and education. Enslaving Beastmen…” I didn’t understand why he glanced at Nnoa, who was silent for once, pulling their hat farther down over their head. “And enslaving Dragonborn in the southeast caverns. Restricting and stealing our magic, using it against us. Taxes and reduced wages and restricted sea travel.”

I blinked. I hadn’t experienced much of that at all, not on my island populated by mostly Eurosi. Had they? The look on their faces told me everything.

“So… who’s Shrill?” I asked carefully. Inside, I could feel my temper rising like an oil lamp being turned up.

“He organizes everything. Protests, meetings, rights…” Désirée answered.

“Riots,” Roman corrected. Dee nodded.

A feeling of… kiasu came over me. I wanted to know, I wanted to be part of this, I wanted to fight for these people. I had never been part of anything in my life, not even a family, at least for very long. I clenched my teeth, keeping my voice steady though I wanted to demand they take me along. To let me fight for something and prove myself.

“I… would like to help, if possible.” I said in a measured voice.

Nnoa squealed. “You want to join!” They thrust their glass into the air in a dramatic toast. “Welcome to the family!”

I suppressed a shiver at the word ‘family’.

“Well, I mean… I’ve always wanted to be part of something.”

Roman studied me and I knew he saw right through me. “Well, I’ll tell Shrill. He’ll want to meet you. Come back this time tomorrow, okay?”

Désirée pulled a pocketwatch out. “It is getting late now. We need to take Nnoa back to the dorm.”

Sure enough, the small alcoholic was in a liquor induced trance, slumped over on the table, an empty glass in their hand. Their friends lifted them up by the armpits, then Roman hoisted them onto his broad back. As we left the pub, I heard Nnoa mumbling to himself, but I couldn’t understand his words. Probably just because he was drunk.

As we went to go our separate ways, Roman nodded to me. “Remember, this time tomorrow.”

Désirée winked one jewel-like eye at me. “See you soon.”

I nodded to them both. “Thank you.”

The walk home was quiet. I hated the quiet.

The streetlamps lit the streets back to Arwen’s home. The door was unlocked- she had left it open for me. I closed the door behind me and turned the deadbolt, then hung my coat on the coatrack.

There was a note on the chest of drawers next to the door. Dinner is in the kitchen.

I glanced in the living room to see dying embers in the fireplace, but no Arwen. She had probably gone to bed. I navigated through the house to the kitchen to find a plate of still warm roast potatoes waiting for me.

I had friends now. The realization hit me like an arrow to the throat. I leaned on the kitchen counter, looking down at the potatoes.

I was going to be okay.

----------

THE GANGGGGG. They're cool. Nnoa is more than meets the eye though ;)

I just speed wrote this chapter so I'm going to take a break and actually do some work.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 2

“My name is Arwen Burgess. I received a letter from my acquaintance Jacob Felix from the West Wind Isles Trading Company that he was sending his Eurosi clerk to the Anruin Colonies to receive an education. He also told me that she had the spirit of a stallion.” Arwen smiled nervously, extending her hand. “I believe him now.”

I couldn’t help but grin and take her hand firmly. “I’m flattered! Asani Chans Cliff. It’s a pleasure to meet the prodigy of the Starkcane Law Program. You’re a pioneer.”

Arwen pursed her lips. “Well, I didn’t become the first non-human in the Program through punching the administrator. You’ve got some work to do.”

“I’ll fight the whole school to fix my place here.”

“No, I mean apologies and sweet talking.”

I frowned. “Did you hear what he called me? That’s slander.”

She sighed. “Not here it’s not. You’re going to need to learn to control yourself before you get shot. Listen, I’ll talk to the administrator for you when he cools off. You should get settled in at my place.”

We walked out of the office and out into the park-like grounds of the college, back towards the street. “I don’t need you to fight my battles.” I said, trying not to sound ungrateful to possibly my first friend here.

“No, I can see that. But you need to pick your battles.” Arwen said, walking with her hands clasped behind her back, her perfectly pressed pants swishing as she walked with practiced grace.

I clamped my mouth shut for the rest of the walk.

I had come to the correct house earlier, a fine one too big for one small Seraphi student. “Do you have a family? Why the big home?” I asked as she unlocked the front door.

“My parents left it to me. I haven’t the heart to sell it.”

“You’re an orphan.” It hit me.

“Yes. That’s part of why I got into the Law Program. My mother went to school at Starkcane, and they’re a sucker for sob stories.”

“I’m an orphan.” I said dumbly.

Arwen paused in the doorway. “I’m… sorry to hear that.”

That was all. No questions. I felt a pang of relief as she led me into the foyer.

Arwen took a look at my bag. “Is that all you have?”

“A couple changes of clothes, some books and ink. Why?” I said, defensiveness creeping into my tone.

“Just wondering.” I could tell her eyes lingered on me through the feathers. “You can take the first room at the top of the stairs. I haven’t cleaned it in a while, so it might be a bit dusty. I apologize for that… I just don’t use much of the house.”

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair in a week or two, once I get a job.” I said.

Arwen hummed. “That might be… a bit of a chore. With the rebellion and all, most humans don’t want to hire people like us.”

I perked up. “Rebellion?”

Arwen shirked a bit. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

So be it. I could find out on my own.

-----------

This one is shorter but I promise the next one will be an acceptable length lol.

Meet Arwen Burgess! Arwen is a loyal person and hard worker, but isn't too fond of trouble and drama. She's one of my favorites.

[prismcypher404]

Ink and Muskets: Chapter 1

Lucky.

I looked out over the deep blue water far below as the clouds around the ship parted. The wind ruffled my hair, whipped at my eyes and arms as I stood unflinchingly on the balcony.

Lucky.

The polished wood of the railing under my palms. How would I describe it on paper? Silky, sun-warmed, unyielding.

How would I describe the east-bound gale that ruffled through my inky feathers?

Curious, perhaps. Unrestrained.

Ah, the word was meltem. A sea wind.

Lucky.

Despite the beliefs of my mother, despite the meaning of the second name she had given me- Chans, from her native language- I had never considered myself lucky.

Until that day, almost three months ago. My home, my island, devastated by the storm. Mr. Felix, my boss and the founder of the trading company that operated between the islands- at least before the ports were razed, what an interesting word, razed- had found my letters. Letters to no one but myself, accidentally mixed in with the damage cost reports I had put on his desk.

It was two weeks later I learned he had submitted them to a small, local publishing company on the next island over under my name. I received a letter from the publishers telling me how “touching” and “heartwrenching” my story was. I received a sum of money from them for the manuscript, enough to pay for my boarding in town, since my former lodgings were gone, and a pretty penny to put away. Nothing extravagant, but enough for a rainy day.

Perhaps that was a poor analogy, as the rainy day had passed already, but I was, am, and have always been frugal.

But word- my words, if you will- got around, and the islanders read my writings. My words spoke to them- of their own hardships, hurricanes, and broken hearts. And before I knew it, I walked into the trading company office to find Mr. Felix- and the whole town.

My money would pay for half of an air voyage. Their donations, their poor, bleeding hearts… they paid the rest.

Mr. Felix told me of an old acquaintance he had made on the mainland, a bright young Seraphi who would help me get on my feet as I began school.

School. Institute. Seminary.

My heart felt light. The administration of the revered Starkcane University on the west coast of- of- I could hardly believe it.

The Anruin Colonies. A hallowed place of possibility, of hope, of opportunity for every and any poor creature, every orphan, every searching immigrant.

I’d been on this airship for two days now. Such a large vessel had a tendency for lackadaisical motion.

But now, there was land on the horizon, breaking through the endless sea. We would be there in less than an hour by the looks of it.

So I closed my eyes and let the wind whip around me, tugging, ruffling.

Meltem. I smiled.

I didn’t realize how much time I had spent standing in the sun and wind before an attendant found me on the balcony.

“Miss Cliff?”

I restrained a small scowl and turned with what was hopefully a pleasant look on my face. “Can I help you?”

“If you don’t mind, Miss Cliff, all passengers are to return inside for landing.”

I looked down. We were nearing the docks. “Right, of course.”

I turned away and followed the attendant inside. She was a Eurosi like I was, with tanned skin, black wings, and pearly hair. She was young, and it was certainly serendipitous that she had this job instead of being stuck working on the islands like most of us.

Lucky. She was lucky.

I sat back into my seat, wood padded -not well- with some cotton fabric.

The other attendants, no other Eurosi among them, closed the balcony doors and windows, the strong metal protecting us passengers from any possible dangers that may come with the landing of our airship.

The process was brief and of little note as outside the great timber supports locked around the behemoth craft.

Soon I was striding down the wide gangplank down to the wooden dock, my bag with all my mortal possessions slung over my shoulder and nudging gently against my hip. I pulled the scrap of paper out of my pocket, pretending to read it as I subtly surveyed my surroundings. In reality, I already had the address memorized. Most of the people boarding and disembarking the ships both sea and air were human and elf. There were a few Seraphi, Lizardkin… I scrunched up my nose at the sight of the enslaved Beastmen, their thick fur crusted with salt and sweat.

Odious. Tragic.

I tucked the paper away and made my way down the docks, then into the street. The gentle sound of the waves lapping at the docks and the heckling seagulls yielded to the sound of market goers walking the cobblestones and the chatter and calls of merchants at their stalls.

I tried my best not to gawk at the sights and sounds like some uneducated island-goer.

I stopped at a stall selling fruit and fished in my bag. Not much money left… but I couldn’t let that show.

“Good afternoon,” I said to the young Tabaxi woman. She was of small stature, with alert eyes and fur like driftwood. “I’ll take an orange and directions to 285 Drakehouse Street.”

She eyed the small sum I placed in front of her, then looked me up at down. “Where you from?”

I looked down my nose at her. How impudent- I simply wanted a snack and some aid.

“None of your concern. Will you aid me?”

She looked me dead in the eyes as she slid me two oranges- more than I had asked for- then retrieved a small pad of paper and quickly sketched me a map. “This will take you to Drakehouse street. It’s near the college.”

I wasn’t about to test my luck. “Thank you, miss.” I tucked one orange into my bag, then took the other plump fruit and the map and walked off.

I ripped the rind of the orange off with my teeth, then bit into the juicy, sunny fruit as I studied the map. The lodging house was towards the center of town. Hopefully I would find that Seraphi there, so I started walking.

Whether it was my borrowed collared button up shirt, slacks, and scuffed boots, or my inky black wings, I seemed to draw many an eye.

I ran a tanned hand through my short silver hair rakishly and smirked at a passing lady who was undressing me with her eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and hurried on. Quite amusing. Perhaps I was an exotic here.

Brick and wooden houses and businesses along neat cobblestone streets, people of all sorts walking along, the occasional horse and carriage clattering down the road.

Of course, I recognized every kind of person that passed me by. I always do my research, and the colony of New Vita and Vitalis City were my victims ever since I learned of my good fortune.

I tested myself by identifying each curious creature that passed me by. Humans and elves were quite common, of course. Humans most of all, as they ruled the Anruin Colonies due to the time tested rule of Finders Keepers. Then there were few enslaved Beastmen, carrying groceries or crates of goods. A few of the smaller females watched over human children.

But there were also lithe, rangy Tabaxi, stout, businesslike dwarves, the occasional Goliath. It took much effort on my part not to stare at the tall, muscular man, likely over seven feet tall.

I had finished my orange and was picking a bit of albedo from my teeth with my tongue when I arrived at 285 Drakehouse Street. It was a nice house, three stories tall and an attic, built of brick and fine wood. Narrow, but sturdy and almost artistic in design. This was the house of a family. I wondered if this mysterious Seraphi had children, if they were scarcely a year older than I. But no one was home.

I stood there in the street for a moment, weighing my options. I could wait here for them, or…

The school was two streets away. I started towards Starkcane University. Perhaps I could finalize my enrollment and scholarship programs while I had time.

The neighborhood was nice, the tenants likely students and faculty members exclusively.

And the University itself… as I passed through the wrought iron gates, I couldn’t help but crane my neck up in wonder. It was a great multistory building with gargoyles surveying from the roof- real security gargoyles that turned their head to scan the grounds dutifully. There were shingled turrets and arched windows and two large, thick wooden doors, propped open invitingly.

So I walked across the manicured, green lawn, tore my gaze from the Beastman slave raking the fallen leaves from the ground around the trees, and stepped inside.

It was quiet. No surprise, as classes hadnt yet begun for the fall.

Right at the entrance was a door with an embossed sign on it, declaring in fancy font that this was the office.

I stepped inside. A small, older, spectacled woman sat at the desk. She looked up at me, and I expected ogling, or an eyebrow raise at least, but it seemed I was utterly unremarkable to her.

“My name is Asani Chans Cliff, and I am here to check that my enrollment and scholarships are properly confirmed.” I said as professionally as I could manage.

The woman nodded, then stood with a groan from her seat and gestured for me to follow, which I did. She led me through the door on the other side of the room and into a smaller room set up like an office. A stubby old man who I thought looked rather like a goat sat at his desk. He didn’t bother to look up as the receptionist left, leaving the door cracked open.

I stood at his desk, not sitting in the chair in front of it yet.

He took his sweet time in acknowledging me. “What is it you need?”

I sat then, resting my ankle on my knee, hopefully looking like I hadn’t a care in the world.

“I’m an incoming student here to check that my scholarships have been properly handled.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you here to study?”

Immediately, and because I was proud of it, I said “Law.”

He scrunched up his nose as if I had said astrology. “I didn’t think we accepted… people like…”

“Yes, Eurosi and other nonhumans are accepted into the Law Program.” I said evenly, and tried to bite down the words that would surely melt him into a quivering puddle.

“Your name?” He queried condescendingly.

“Asani Chans Cliff.”

He leaned over to open the file cabinet next to his desk and thumbed through the papers for all of three seconds. “Don’t see it.”

“You-“

“I’m trying to do you a favor, sweetheart. The Law Program is difficult.”

I shot out of my seat, planted my hands on his desk with a bang, my wings flaring. “Don’t call me sweetheart, or I’ll rip out your lungs and feed them to you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

“Little girl-“

Before I knew it, my fist connected squarely with his nose with a solid crack. He yelled and stumbled back, clutching his face. I stalked out, barely feeling the sting in my knuckles over the pride and rage that had crested in me.

The waiting room was dead quiet. I waited for someone to scold me, waited for the next fight, but no one did. The receptionist simply glanced at me, hummed in respect, then went about her business.

There was one other person in the waiting room. She stood.

A Seraphi. She was of short, slight stature, with creamy skin and those distinctive face-wings folded mostly over her eyes, hiding them from sight. I knew she had four more of the small wings- two on her back and two on her ankles, well hidden under carefully arranged clothing.

She had shoulder length honey-brown hair with a distinctive wave to it. She just had a collected, practiced aura about her, though my outburst in the other room had taken her by surprise- by her reaction, not something that happened often.

“You… punched the admin.” She said in a measured, unintrusive voice, not asking.

“So?” I snorted.

“What are you here to study?”

I crossed my arms. I wouldn’t make that mistake twice. “What’s it to you?” Maybe I was still hot from the scuffle. I tried to get ahold of myself, stared her down right where her eyes were behind those feathers.

“Because I think you’re who I’m looking for.”

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Nice, one down. I'm going to post a character guide after a few chapters :)

[prismcypher404]

Are we writing??

Yes we are. Incoming drop for a few chapters I've been working on for a month or two.

I've been too shy to post but my supercool awesome writer friend inspired me lol.