Sketches in Ink

A window to the worlds in my head. Peer through the Fourth Wall at your own risk.

[scatteriskity]

Salutations from the Author's Corner

--- original intro ---

Hello! I've discovered recently the need to back up some of my worldbuilding and stories somewhere else besides Google Drive (especially when the school account you've procrastinated backing up for three years decides to lock you out yesterday).

I probably won't be posting full stories (bahaha bold of you to assume I have anything past chapter like... six... that isn't cringy), but I do write my stories in snippets and side-arcs so those will probably live here, or on my "Sketches in Ink" Wixsite (if I ever remember to maintain that one).

Anyways... oh dear, I did forget to do an intro, didn't I? Speed run~

--- updated January 2026 ---

Call me Skit! She/her. [Happy Cousin Prime]. Image bearer of an Awesome Creator. Musician. Science nerd. Writer. Artist.

I do the Words and I do the Art because the things that live in my head need somewhere to go so I can clear out space for other things. (Look, this school thing? It requires a lot of storage space and processing power up here.)

I used to be active on the PaperDemon ARPG/Community site under the username Scatteriskity. I loved investing in my fun band of adventurer trouble magnets there, but I miss dabbling in my old stories. With the sort of schedule I have now, I think I'm going to pick up some of my neglected projects and bring them slowly back to life again.

Flash Fiction Friday has been a fantastic thing I've found here that keeps my fingers limber and juices flowing. In fact, I use this account almost exclusively for FFF entries, though maybe one day I'll put some lore drops for other things as well.

Everything else about me is nothing that I think you'll find useful gleaning from this box. After all, where's the fun in dropping all the lore right away?

Thanks for visiting my little corner ^-^

-

[Link to a stories masterlist or something will go here. At some point. Yes, it's 2026 now and I still haven't made a list.]

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#363 - On Thin Ice] - Walking the Razor's Edge

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: This is actually past the trial scene. Spoiler alert; Arensky is safe. For now. But this next part might be a little tricky.

–

Step one. Make it out of the trial. Alive and preferably in the area.

Check.

Step two.

That was as far as he’d gotten. 

Honestly, he’d been far from confident that he would even make it past step one, considering how few instructions he’d been given, and how many limitations he’d been placed under. 

Being unable to speak up as a room full of alien beings discussed his fate? Not exactly the most relaxing hour of silent spectating he’d ever done. 

Calire had managed to put in a good word for him, and by some miracle, enough Icruxti council members were willing to give him a shot. For that alone, he might be indebted to the little avian healer, if he weren’t so anxious for what was coming next.

There wasn’t any time to even feel relief, much less triumph, before he was hustled to the next obstacle, the next test. It hadn’t felt anything like winning an argument, or even that he’d just escaped with his life. That would mean he was out of the woods.

But he wasn’t. Not yet. 

They wanted to give him a trial run.

This was all happening too quickly. He needed to talk to Calire.

He abruptly slowed down, nearly pulling out of Calire’s grip. She turned around with a puzzled expression, but when he mimed drinking water, her eyes lit up knowingly.

“Excuse me,” she said to the other two Icruxti escorting them, “could we pause a moment? The human is thirsty.”

“Yeah?” said the one with twin triangular patches on either side of their jawline. “So give him a drink.”

“It’s not that easy, Brissel,” Calire huffed, pointing to Arensky’s mask like they couldn’t see the obvious. “You want him to suffocate right here? I’ll take him to a water station, but I’ll need five minutes.”

The two escorts exchanged glances before Brissel spoke again. “Fine. Five minutes. Meet us at the ring, we’ll go let the captain know you’re on your way.”

As soon as they parted directions, Calire led Arensky a little ways down the hall, guiding him towards a deep alcove that he almost mistook for a corridor until he saw the wall at the far end. It wasn’t all that large, maybe ten feet deep and eight feet wide, but most of the space was taken up by racks of glasses on the left, and a large stone trough on the right.

“Kneel,” Calire instructed, switching back to the human tongue. “Don’t make that face. It’s because you’re too tall. And you’ll have to excuse my tone. We’re on a time crunch, remember?” 

She loosened the straps that held his breathing mask in place, then Arensky took over and removed the rest himself. Ahh, fresh air was nice. 

Though it was weird considering the Dyne-saturated air “fresh”, but with Calire’s elixir allowing him to breathe the Spire’s atmosphere, the mask that normally kept humans alive at this level was now stale and stifling for his adjusted lungs. 

Right now, the mask was keeping him alive, but in a different way. The Icruxti didn’t need to know that he could breathe their air and understand their language. One glimpse of his teal-stained mouth would spark an investigation and land Calire in hot water as well. Thus, the cumbersome gear was worth the risks it avoided.

He lowered the mask around his neck, then wiped his face free of condensation and perspiration. “You need to tell me what I need to do next.”

“Hydrate.” Calire filled up one of the glasses in the trough and passed it to him.

Arensky sniffed the cup. “You’re always giving me liquids.”

“This one is just water. You were the one who asked for a drink. So drink.” She got herself a glass and downed its contents in two gulps. “Sands, your language is so dry.”

“I thought we were on a time crunch?”

“Drink your water!” Calire repeated. “You’re going to need it. Captain T’cotra– I know he’ll give you a chance if I ask him to. But you’re also a human.”

Arensky swallowed his current mouthful of water before interjecting, “I’m a human. Yes! I know! I am aware of my own species not belonging here! You don’t need to keep reminding me unless there’s something important that’s attached to it. Is there?”

Calire’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together for a few moments before she made eye contact with him. “Here’s your step two. Find a way to follow instructions without giving away that you understand them.”

He turned that over in his mind for a bit. “That’s not going to be easy.”

“I didn’t say it would be.” She blew out a tense sigh. “I’m sorry these situations are so impossible. I wish I could do more.”

He was really treading thin ice here. Act too clueless and he’d be worthless. Act too smart and he’d be dangerous. Either would get him rapidly expelled.

But he was a survivalist. He’d made it this far, he’d walked the razor’s edge before.

“That you’ve given me a chance at all is much appreciated.” He pulled the breathing mask back up, then bowed his head so Calire could secure the straps. “I’ll figure it out.”

-

873 words

Hhhh I want to get to the arena scene but this is my compromise of not actually writing out the whole trial because it's just him listening to them talk over him

Soon, soon. We'll get to see him in action.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#362 - Shouldn’t Be Done] - Uncharted Intervention

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Immediately follows “The Weight of Radiance”. And somewhat calmer.

-

“My name is Calire. And you are at the Crux.”

Those words hung in the air for a stretch of time, at the end of which Arensky came to be aware of that bright gaze pinned on him expectantly. She blinked. “Should I repeat th-”

“Oh, you… wanted a response.” Arensky cleared his voice again. Whatever potion or elixir she’d given him had left a weirdly thick feeling in his mouth and throat. “I’m a little tired.” 

She stared at him again, this time a slight tension between her eyebrows, wrinkling the little stripe that ran across the bridge of her nose. “Open your mouth again?”

“Wh-hgaah–” He nearly choked on his own words, her hands holding his jaw open as she tilted his head this way and that. Upon satisfactory inspection, she released his face. 

He frowned and wiped his mouth. “I can do it myself next time.”

“Why were you resisting, then?” Not judgmentally. Just matter-of-factly, with a bird-like tilt of her head.

“Thought you were going to give me another potion,” he muttered. “I’d rather take liquids sitting up.”

“No, not yet. This one…” she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder at the group that was congregating outside of the glass. “Sands, they’re still watching? Hold a moment.”

She stood up and walked to the glass, waving her arms around with weighted gestures, and a smattering of hisses and screeches punctuating sharp spoken tones. The language didn’t sound any more familiar than before, but it wasn’t painful to listen to, at least. Might be more painful to try to replicate with his limited human vocal cords.

When the throng dispersed to some degree, she returned to Arensky’s side. “Drama scavs. Always drawn to a scene. Like they have nothing better to do but to give me pressure while I do my job.” She had taken out a roll of gauze and rolled up his sleeve, and was now looking at something on his right arm. “What’s this?”

Arensky craned his head to see what she was pointing at. “Oh. Floor scrape.” 

“Recent?”

“On the way up. Dropped me. Accidentally, I think.”

A noise like a scoff escaped her lips. “You give them too much credit.” She smeared something cool and numbing on his elbow, then started wrapping it up carefully. “Let me know if it hurts worse.”

“Mm.” He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Speaking was still a lot of work. It seemed he had capacity for breathing and only breathing – which was better than not breathing, but it made communication such a task.

It was nice to have space to think, though. All of the sensory overload he’d experienced for the past two hours were but background traces now. Not completely gone, just reduced to tolerable levels. So he could look at her, and understand her, but only when she was speaking his tongue, which meant the Icruxti language was truly a different speech and not just meaning obscured by static and echoes.

Actually, he was curious now. It was worth spending the breath.

“You learned our language well.”

She didn’t pause her work. “Picking up languages is a talent that runs in the family.”

“It’s not just that.” If she had learned it from the world of diplomats or scientists, he doubted she would have such a colloquial cadence. Some of her phrases, in fact, he recognized from his time traveling with Dust Drifter groups. “You sound like you’ve spent a lot of time around humans.”

Now she stopped. For a moment, Arensky wondered if he had insulted her in some way; maybe that was an offensive comparison in their culture?

But the pause lasted barely two seconds before she continued. “I had a good teacher.” She tugged the last strip into place with brisk finality, tearing off the excess with her short talons.

Arensky couldn’t count himself an expert on Icruxti emotion. But without the blinding flare around her silhouette, he found someone less alien, and more human, than he’d expected. He could read regret in her tone and in the way her gaze dropped to the side. 

He decided to change subjects. 

“What do they want with me?”

Calire was rummaging through her kit of supplies. “I’m not sure. We don’t get too many humans that make it this far. You’re going to have a trial, I think. An evaluation?” She pulled out another glass vial, this one with a teal liquid inside. 

Oh great, more mystery drinks.

"I... really shouldn’t be doing this,” she said with something like a half-laugh, half-grimace. “Come, sit up. You said you take liquids better upright, didn’t you?”

Arensky narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what it is first.”

“Liquid Lexicon. It’ll help you understand them. Us. Our language.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “I don’t want them to know I’m giving you this. As far as they know, this is an emergency intervention.”

“Why are you, then?” Arensky asked. “Why help me?”

“Because you deserve to know what your cross-examiners are saying about you. I'm not going to be there to translate. You'll be on your own."

Nothing new for him. "You're saying I should defend myself?"

Calire tilted her head from side to side. "I don't think you should say anything, actually. They might get mad.”

“You’re giving me the ability to understand what they’re saying but not letting me do anything about it.”

“Ye- I mean, no!” Her feathers bristled. “Just sit up. Drink this.”

“I still don’t know why you’re helping me,” Arensky pushed back, pausing to catch his breath. The effort of conversation was starting to take its toll. “If I can’t do anything about it… spare me the details. So what do you want me to do up there?”

“I don’t know!” she hissed, balling her fists in frustration. “You’re the second one, and I messed up the first time, so you’re basically the first one, and I’m not letting it happen again.” She closed her eyes, dispelling the charged aura that had flared up around her. “Just… figure out some way to stay alive and preferably in this area.”

-

1023 words

A little bit of chit-chat and caretaker time. Calire is trying so hard to be chill and calm but ah! a human! she gets to talk to a human! he is talking back to her! She must make sure this one makes it through.

Arensky's just tired man, he was betrayed by his travel group and dragged up to no-human's land where the air is too thick with Dyne to breathe, and then given miracle seltzer to help clear that up, and now he's making small talk with a bird girl about languages.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#360 - Stuck Inside My Head] - Out of Control

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Swap to Firsen's POV. Continuation of “Heat of the Moment”, where a rivalry for the ages is forged… as well as some very high-powered Dyne users. 

–

How dare she. How DARE she!

He had a good mind to out her right there and then, in front of the entire gathering. For using Dyne during a gathering. For using it secretly, without showing her markings. For using it on another noble. A noble that was his friend.

Ohh, she would be in so much trouble. Rightfully deserved.

An itchy, prickling heat crept up Firsen’s back and neck, threatening a spill-over of Dyne. No, not here, not right now. As much as he wanted to humiliate Lixy, he couldn’t snitch on her in his emotionally charged state, lest he embarrass himself in front of the entire Upper Circuit with an uncontrolled Dyne surge.

Lixy’s eyes were locked with his, a desperate, defiant mix of begging and threatening him not to tell. Firsen tore his gaze away. He felt he might manifest laser beams from his eyes if he glared at her any longer.

Instead, he turned his attention to Calire, who still seemed disoriented. He bent down slightly to meet her at eye level. “Do you want water?” he asked.

“Water…” Calire echoed, slipping out of focus once more. The dark purple had stopped spreading across her feathers, but it was taking time to completely dissolve. “I was going… to get it… for her…”

Firsen gently shushed her with a pat on her shoulders, noticing that heads were turning. Fine, if they wanted something to watch, he’d perform.

He raised his voice just a little bit louder. “No, no, you stay here and rest, I’ll get it for you.” He steered her towards one of the unoccupied side chairs and sat her down in it. “I’ll be right back.”

As he slipped back out into the corridor, he was acutely aware of Lixy’s eyes on him. Probably wondering what he was up to and why he hadn’t exposed her.

Well, I’ve got an image to maintain, too. Chase me if you want, princess.

As he poured out a cup of water, he kept half an eye on the silhouettes behind the frosted glass doors. A flustered figure of silk and shadow was approaching. She’d taken the bait.

He waited until Lixy was but four paces from the door before he swung it open with gusto, nearly hitting the Chiro princess in the face. The two of them collided, resulting in half a glass of cold water spilled down Lixy’s silk robes.

Lixy’s shriek of surprise was music to Firsen’s ears.

“Oh! My apologies, princess,” Firsen said, making a show of trying to squeeze water out of the hem of her skirt. He could feel Lixy’s frustration brewing, much to his satisfaction.

“You don’t need to do that, runir,” she replied with equally contrived cordiality, tugging her skirt out of Firsen’s grasp. “It will dry off in time. I was just going to get a glass of water myself.”

No one to fetch it for you anymore, he wondered, or just an excuse to confront me?

“I need to refill this one anyways.” He looked around, as if just realizing that the meeting had stalled. “Sorry. We’ll take this outside. Just, uh… carry on without us.”

Not like he had been there to contribute in the first place. A mix of chuckles and sighs rippled through the room.

Firsen held the door open for Lixy. “After you, princess.”

“So gracious, runir.”

–

The theatrics dropped the moment they made it to the servants’ corridor.

Firsen grabbed Lixy’s arm and pulled her around the corner. He yanked up her sleeve, revealing trace markings still fading from recent Dyne use.

Lixy gasped, slapping Firsen’s hand away. “Rude!”

“Rude? Me?” Firsen scoffed. “Says the one using Dyne under the table. You can’t just hijack people to do your bidding because there’s no one around to get it for you!”

“Isn’t that what servants are for?” Lixy countered. “And you used your Dyne too, don’t try to hide it. It burned me.”

Firsen gaped, his astonishment momentarily overshadowing his outrage. “Calire isn't a servant, she's my friend! And she's Avie nobility.”

That seemed to shut Lixy up for a moment. Finally, she stammered, “W-well how was I supposed to know that?”

“Maybe if you came to any of the courtyard events, you'd know!”

“It isn't like you don't miss things either! Besides, she wasn’t wearing any of the Great House crests–”

“That isn’t the point. The point is to keep your paws off things that aren’t yours!” Firsen snapped, coming almost nose-to-nose with Lixy. The glow of his flare was reflected in her wide eyes.

He winced as a headache speared through his skull. He was overreacting. Overheating. Time to wrap things up.

“For the record, I wasn’t using Dyne, I was just getting rid of yours. Think twice before you try brainwashing someone stronger than you, or you'll get more than a little burn next time.”

Suddenly, the fear in Lixy’s eyes dissolved, replaced by the knowing glint of someone who had just figured something out.

Firsen took a step back, unnerved. “... what?”

((You think you’re stronger than me?))

That was her voice. But her lips hadn’t moved. They were closed. Yet they tugged upwards at the corner into a self-confident smirk as she hummed a low melody.

((You let your guard down, dragonfly.))

Firsen clapped his hands over his ears. “No. No you don't. Stop it.”

((I almost believed you. Your flare burns bright and hot. It’s hard to approach. But you leave yourself so wide open when you're venting.))

“Get OUT.”

He turned his own Dyne on himself, and it was blazing and it burned but he needed her out of his head.

When his vision cleared, he was on the floor, the lingering itch of a Dyne surge still tingling on his skin. Lixy stood above him, her own markings lit up but her flare looking blown out. She held out a hand.

Firsen turned away with a scowl. “No one's around. Don't even bother.”

She tucked her hand back into her sleeves. “You'd better start practicing getting that under control. Or I'll do you a favor and take it from you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Well, that didn't go as planned.

Though she wasn’t inside his head anymore, she’d gotten under his skin. Which was just about the same thing.

-

1056 words

And that's how it went down. Highly recommend to read last week's entry before this one since they connect immediately ^^

Also if you saw Calire's version here earlier and wondered where it went, I had written two versions but ended up liking this one more but only just now had the internet connection to swap it out (phone browser tumblr is a quagmire).

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[stories-by-rie]

i.... i need to know more about the Dynes. please tell me about the Dynes. they're a mental power? they can influence other people to do things? there's a backlash too? 👀

amazing dynamic here, such a fun read!!

[scatteriskity]

hhhhhh oh no oh no we've been asked about Lore-

Just kidding, I'm not panicked! Glad you enjoyed it! ^^

I am so happy to explain lore and worldbuilding and magic there's just so much of it floating around unorganized that I have to go "wait Skit, we must be Careful and Not Spoilers and Not Text Walls".

Well. Text walls might be a thing. You can't have lore without text walls.

Okay! So!

I do have a little Lore Drop post already [happy link here] - essentially, Dyne is the magic force of their world. It's not really specific to any sort of power; different individuals can use Dyne for different purposes. Mending, lighting fires, powering devices, binding things, making something hot or cold, etc. ... or brainwashing people, yeah, that works too.

Dyne is part of the atmosphere, and it increases in concentration as you go up in altitude. You need bigger Dyne capacity to live in places with higher Dyne saturation, or it'll overload your systems.

The other thing about capacity; bigger Dyne capacity = more abilities you have access to. If you use it.

Some nobles have really big capacities but don't use it. All it does is just let them live at higher altitudes. So they sit there and look shiny. (And maybe fly around, because flying is a level 5 ability and it looks cool and why pass up a chance to show off, y'know?)

On the other hand, you can have a smaller Dyne capacity but use Dyne a lot. You'd be considered a strong user after some time (just living at lower altitudes).

For example, "mending" is a level 3 ability. Someone just starting out could be able to fix small chips and dents. Someone who's done it for their livelihood for years might piece together something that was fully shattered.

-mini break as I reread the question and realize I answered none of it-

Right, yes, Firsen and Lixy's little Dyne dominance dance!

Dominance is a level 5 ability. It's the one that allows them to mess with each other's heads >:)

Generally, it's rude to use dominance over others of equal status (and still even questionable to use it on servants) - that's why there's so many rules about being transparent with using Dyne abilities.

Kids will be kids, though. Lixy and Firsen are from rival houses, and they're both rebels in their own ways. Including how they use their Dyne.

Lixy is from House Melonykas - they're Chiros, the bat-based ones. They actually use dominance the most, with a frequency-based method of putting their targets in a sort of suggestible trance.

[It's called "Tuning", and there are other things they can do beyond that... but that's spoilers for now >v<]

Firsen is from House Streykas (Essents, insect-based)- he hasn't quite unlocked the finer points of dominance yet, but he can override it through brute force (which I think I'm going to call "calcination" - purifying by fire).

Because Firsen has unstable Dyne, though, it's a little uncomfortable and overwhelming for him to spend all at once like that. The backlash shouldn't be that strong for someone of his caliber, but his control could definitely use some work.

[Technically the Essent flavor of dominance is called "Hive"... but those are also spoilers as of now ^^]

Basically, whoever has the stronger Dyne ability can overcome the other's offense/defense.

I'm planning a part three of this rivalry between Lixy and Firsen, and it's an arms race between the two of them to get better at their abilities. Mostly it's Lixy trying to get into Firsen's head, occasionally succeeding, only for Firsen to find a way to shut her out, and now she's having to train harder to top him again.

Needless to say, Firsen gets very good, very fast - because he never wants to lose control to Lixy (or anyone else) ever again.

-takes deep breath-

sorry for the text wall but also thank you for reblogging and getting me to actually sort some of my worldbuilding into words :D

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#361 - Watch Your Step] - Up in Twists

-verse: Antikrypha Story: Round Robin Heads-Up: It’s a fluff day :3 Immediately follows "Sweet Summer Child".

–

Nervous? Her? 

Nooooo.

It wasn’t like she was afraid of being rejected or anything. They were just kids! Just friends! No big deal. No pressure. She gave him the card, so the ball was in his court, and if he wanted to come then he would.

If he didn’t, she couldn’t blame him either. There were a lot of people here. 

She’d invited a kid who spent twenty out of twenty-four hours in a day in a workshop filled with machines. Who could be mistaken as one of the work droids, from the grease stains that never really washed out and his slightly stilted responses to social interaction. Even his android companion had more warmth and human personality than he did.

He would be a fish out of water here.

Maybe she was nervous. Had she done a disservice to him, by pressuring him to show up to an event that would no doubt overload his systems? She could imagine all the reasons he would invent for himself just to avoid the festival. 

Yet she could also imagine him talking himself into going, just because she had invited him. The boy didn’t know how to say no.

At this point, Lark felt she might be less nervous if Tanager didn’t come at all. Then at least she’d know he was looking out for his own mental well-being.

(But some small part of her still wanted him to come. Not out of obligation, but because the idea of spending time with a single familiar face would outweigh the discomfort of being among so many strangers.)

She clenched her fists and rubbed them against her face. Silly, silly thoughts! Her stomach was twisted in knots. She should be enjoying the festival, not overthinking a past decision or a possible outcome.

And something smelled really good. Warm and sugary and slightly spiced.

“Ohh… cinnamon twists,” she breathed, rising from her seat and following the scent towards the booths and vendors. 

The lady at the cart had just put out a fresh batch of twists and started frying a dozen more. Lark could hear the crackling of the hot oil in the fryer. The smell of cinnamon was overwhelming here. It reminded her of the cinnamon rolls she had brought Tanager that second week of seeing him.

He’d probably like these, she found herself thinking, as she fished out enough change to cover two of the fried delights. 

Suddenly she hesitated. 

If he didn’t come, then she’d be stuck with two cinnamon twists. 

Which… honestly wasn’t the worst predicament to be in.

She went ahead and paid for two. 

And as she turned around to head on her way, she practically ran into a cardboard box. Er, someone carrying a cardboard box. All she could see were a pair of sneakers, as the person fought to correct their balance. Something slid off the top of the box and fell into the dirt with a chink and clatter.

“I am so, so sorry, are you okay? Oh no, did I make you drop that?”

“Wh- wait, no it’s fine, don’t– I’ll get it,” the person stammered, setting the enormous box down, which caused more of the clinking shards to spill onto the ground. “They’re all broken already. Just, uh… watch your step.”

Lark narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t say anything until she saw that familiar shade of red hair peek over the top of the box. “Tanager? You came!” 

His eyes widened, and Lark swore she saw the hint of a smile in his eyes. “I-I mean, yes, because… did– did you know my parents have a booth here this year?”

“Oh, so you’re… working?”

Tanager ran his hand through his hair. It was a little odd, seeing him without goggles perched on his head. He cleared his throat. “They told me once I’m done with set-up, I should go enjoy myself.”

“Really? Great! There’s so much to do here!” Lark beamed. “Can you dance?”

“Uhh I don’t think…” He laughed nervously. “I don’t think that’s one of my presentable skills.”

Lark wagged her head. “We’ll do an easy one. You can watch first; I’ll show you the steps.”

The hesitance in his eyes was persistent. He shrugged apologetically.

“Would a cinnamon twist convince you?” Lark offered, holding one out. “You’ll have to burn off the sugar anyways. Might as well dance.”

“You…” Tanager trailed off, failing to find a good excuse. “You always make points that are so hard to counter.”

“Only if you’re secretly willing to try new things, you know?” Seeing him flustered, Lark realized, was seeing the human side of him. She didn’t wish to make him uncomfortable, but she wanted to coax out that soul that normally hid itself among gears and grease. “I didn’t know you owned anything besides that jumpsuit and apron. Quite dapper.”

Okay, now she was messing with him for fun, just to see his face turn red.

-

823 words

Continuing the Lark/Tanager interactions, now at the aforementioned Summer Festival.

Ah, sweet pure innocent friendship. Surely nothing bad happens to them. Because this is totally a friendship story and not one about robots and magic creatures and running from questionable organizations.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[Skit Draws Things] Art Fight 2026

Art Fight - scatteriskity's Profile

'Tis my second year, and I've tossed in a fun cast and crew (their pages aren't up yet *cough cough* they will be soon).

In order from left to right: Firsen, Calire, Tanager, Lexi, Skeli

(You might recognize a few of them from Flash Fiction Friday entries.)

All I will say about their icon feature art is that no, they do not normally hide their faces. We were going for the mysterious vibes, but Skeli's face is already a mask, and Lexi's face is pixels, and Tanager got the task but somehow missed the aesthetic.

I did get some lore bits out of Calire and Firsen's though, so stay tuned for that appearing... somewhere in my writing... at some point.

Happy Artfight-ing! ^-^

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#360 - Stuck Inside My Head] - Out of Control

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Swap to Firsen's POV. Continuation of “Heat of the Moment”, where a rivalry for the ages is forged… as well as some very high-powered Dyne users. 

–

How dare she. How DARE she!

He had a good mind to out her right there and then, in front of the entire gathering. For using Dyne during a gathering. For using it secretly, without showing her markings. For using it on another noble. A noble that was his friend.

Ohh, she would be in so much trouble. Rightfully deserved.

An itchy, prickling heat crept up Firsen’s back and neck, threatening a spill-over of Dyne. No, not here, not right now. As much as he wanted to humiliate Lixy, he couldn’t snitch on her in his emotionally charged state, lest he embarrass himself in front of the entire Upper Circuit with an uncontrolled Dyne surge.

Lixy’s eyes were locked with his, a desperate, defiant mix of begging and threatening him not to tell. Firsen tore his gaze away. He felt he might manifest laser beams from his eyes if he glared at her any longer.

Instead, he turned his attention to Calire, who still seemed disoriented. He bent down slightly to meet her at eye level. “Do you want water?” he asked.

“Water…” Calire echoed, slipping out of focus once more. The dark purple had stopped spreading across her feathers, but it was taking time to completely dissolve. “I was going… to get it… for her…”

Firsen gently shushed her with a pat on her shoulders, noticing that heads were turning. Fine, if they wanted something to watch, he’d perform.

He raised his voice just a little bit louder. “No, no, you stay here and rest, I’ll get it for you.” He steered her towards one of the unoccupied side chairs and sat her down in it. “I’ll be right back.”

As he slipped back out into the corridor, he was acutely aware of Lixy’s eyes on him. Probably wondering what he was up to and why he hadn’t exposed her.

Well, I’ve got an image to maintain, too. Chase me if you want, princess.

As he poured out a cup of water, he kept half an eye on the silhouettes behind the frosted glass doors. A flustered figure of silk and shadow was approaching. She’d taken the bait.

He waited until Lixy was but four paces from the door before he swung it open with gusto, nearly hitting the Chiro princess in the face. The two of them collided, resulting in half a glass of cold water spilled down Lixy’s silk robes.

Lixy’s shriek of surprise was music to Firsen’s ears.

“Oh! My apologies, princess,” Firsen said, making a show of trying to squeeze water out of the hem of her skirt. He could feel Lixy’s frustration brewing, much to his satisfaction.

“You don’t need to do that, runir,” she replied with equally contrived cordiality, tugging her skirt out of Firsen’s grasp. “It will dry off in time. I was just going to get a glass of water myself.”

No one to fetch it for you anymore, he wondered, or just an excuse to confront me?

“I need to refill this one anyways.” He looked around, as if just realizing that the meeting had stalled. “Sorry. We’ll take this outside. Just, uh… carry on without us.”

Not like he had been there to contribute in the first place. A mix of chuckles and sighs rippled through the room.

Firsen held the door open for Lixy. “After you, princess.”

“So gracious, runir.”

–

The theatrics dropped the moment they made it to the servants’ corridor.

Firsen grabbed Lixy’s arm and pulled her around the corner. He yanked up her sleeve, revealing trace markings still fading from recent Dyne use.

Lixy gasped, slapping Firsen’s hand away. “Rude!”

“Rude? Me?” Firsen scoffed. “Says the one using Dyne under the table. You can’t just hijack people to do your bidding because there’s no one around to get it for you!”

“Isn’t that what servants are for?” Lixy countered. “And you used your Dyne too, don’t try to hide it. It burned me.”

Firsen gaped, his astonishment momentarily overshadowing his outrage. “Calire isn't a servant, she's my friend! And she's Avie nobility.”

That seemed to shut Lixy up for a moment. Finally, she stammered, “W-well how was I supposed to know that?”

“Maybe if you came to any of the courtyard events, you'd know!”

“It isn't like you don't miss things either! Besides, she wasn’t wearing any of the Great House crests–”

“That isn’t the point. The point is to keep your paws off things that aren’t yours!” Firsen snapped, coming almost nose-to-nose with Lixy. The glow of his flare was reflected in her wide eyes.

He winced as a headache speared through his skull. He was overreacting. Overheating. Time to wrap things up.

“For the record, I wasn’t using Dyne, I was just getting rid of yours. Think twice before you try brainwashing someone stronger than you, or you'll get more than a little burn next time.”

Suddenly, the fear in Lixy’s eyes dissolved, replaced by the knowing glint of someone who had just figured something out.

Firsen took a step back, unnerved. “... what?”

((You think you’re stronger than me?))

That was her voice. But her lips hadn’t moved. They were closed. Yet they tugged upwards at the corner into a self-confident smirk as she hummed a low melody.

((You let your guard down, dragonfly.))

Firsen clapped his hands over his ears. “No. No you don't. Stop it.”

((I almost believed you. Your flare burns bright and hot. It’s hard to approach. But you leave yourself so wide open when you're venting.))

“Get OUT.”

He turned his own Dyne on himself, and it was blazing and it burned but he needed her out of his head.

When his vision cleared, he was on the floor, the lingering itch of a Dyne surge still tingling on his skin. Lixy stood above him, her own markings lit up but her flare looking blown out. She held out a hand.

Firsen turned away with a scowl. “No one's around. Don't even bother.”

She tucked her hand back into her sleeves. “You'd better start practicing getting that under control. Or I'll do you a favor and take it from you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Well, that didn't go as planned.

Though she wasn’t inside his head anymore, she’d gotten under his skin. Which was just about the same thing.

-

1056 words

And that's how it went down. Highly recommend to read last week's entry before this one since they connect immediately ^^

Also if you saw Calire's version here earlier and wondered where it went, I had written two versions but ended up liking this one more but only just now had the internet connection to swap it out (phone browser tumblr is a quagmire).

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#359 - The Wrong Sign] - Heat of the Moment

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession (pre-canon) Heads-Up: Overheated bat princess tries to brainwash bird girl to get her a glass of water, and dragonfly prince gets mad about it.

–

Good grief, this meeting was beyond boring. 

And contributing to its mindnumbingly, voice-droningly, time-draggingly slow crawl was how warm it was. 

A room full of high-cap Dyne users would do that, especially with half of them being Essents, and one of them – the most important one – the runix himself. The Dyne flare of those belonging to House Streykas tended to release heat, in the opposite manner that nobles of House Melonykas would suck warmth from a room.

Unfortunately, it did not cancel out. There were twice the number of Streykas nobles in attendance for every Melonykas representative. To be expected, of course, since House Streykas currently held the Crux.

Which meant every gathering always ran warm.

Still, Lixy added this to the growing list of reasons why her House should be running things instead. 

Would anyone listen? Probably not. 

There were still four years (and three siblings ahead of her) before she would be old enough to even have a seat in decision-making meetings. Until then, she would have to sweat it out in the corner and pretend to keep up with the proceedings. 

What were they even debating now? The mines? Ugh, the one place she could imagine that would be hotter than this room. Just thinking about it made her sticky and uncomfortable. How strongly the urge seized her to roll up her sleeves– but she knew she’d get an earful from her mother later about exposing her Dyne markings in the middle of a gathering. 

How inappropriate!

How scandalous!

How unnecessary! 

It wasn’t like she would even be using Dyne. If she did, she’d have to roll up her sleeves. Using Dyne without displaying markings was considered uncourteous. Just as using Dyne openly in the middle of a meeting was impolite.

So many signals for so many situations, and an infinite number of ways to get the signs wrong.

I’m going to MELT because of these dumb rules, Lixy stewed, looking around for a servant to fetch her a cold drink. Not a single one in sight.

Seriously? They’re all out of the room right now?

Lixy knew they were probably attending to the adults, but so great was her irritation and thirst that her patience reached its boiling point. Bah to double bars of double rules! Bah to slow meetings in steamy rooms! None of the other young nobles had to sit through these–

The sharp sound of pages flipping caught her attention. She whipped her head around, about to hiss some curt, snippy complaint, but stopped just short.

What is an Avie doing in this meeting?

The Avie girl had a stack of papers in front of her and a couple more pages in her hands, which she was attempting, rather poorly, to reorganize without making so much noise.

Interesting. The two Great Houses of the Avies did not have representatives at this level of the Crux. And based on the plainness of her robes and cap, Lixy doubted this was a diplomatic visitor.

Come to think of it, she recognized this feathered girl…

Oh, yeah. The little bird that always followed Firsen around.

Was she his servant or scribe or something? Sure, Firsen was the crown prince of Streykas, and technically had the same access to servants and perks like Lixy did (if not more). But that seemed a little unfair.

Firsen was not here right now, and if he was skipping lecture while Lixy was melting here, then she rightfully deserved to borrow his servant. 

Her tutor had been praising her for her progress with Dyne tuning frequencies, even going so far as to say that Lixy would likely surpass her family members one day in this regard. Thus, confidence and frustration simmered together, enriching the coaxing croon that Lixy directed towards the Avie girl.

Lixy tucked her hands beneath the table, secretly walking her fingers through the vibrations until she found the right resonance. A little lower, a little lower; Avies didn’t hear as high as Chiros did– 

Perfect.

The sheets slipped out from the Avie’s loosened grasp, her previously focused gaze now a thousand yards distant. Lixy felt a brief flutter against her frequency, like the wingbeats of a cornered bird, but she pressed her melody harder until an indigo wash started to stain the Avie’s feathers and fingertips. 

That should be good enough. Didn't want to be too obvious. Now, time to form the request.

((Hello Avie. Isn't it so warm? I'm very thirsty. I'm sure you are as well. You would probably like a nice glass of water. While you're up there, fetch me a cold drink as well, will you?))

To Lixy’s satisfaction, the Avie girl rose from her seat and started heading to the door. No one gave her a second glance, either too preoccupied with the meeting itself, or their thoughts were somewhere far, far away thinking of cool breezes and icy desserts.

And then the top doors opened, a characteristic click-and-wham that preceded the entrance of runir Firsengal Streykas, heir to the Crux.

His hair was unkempt and his collar askew, looking as if he had sprinted through the halls being chased by a swarm of killer bees on the way here. 

Now all eyes were on the prince, who ducked his head with a breathless apology and motioned for them to carry on with the meeting.

Lixy pursed her lips to redirect her smirk. This was the crown prince of Streykas? Really? More like a stray spark that was always on the verge of starting fires.

If she hadn’t been so focused on maintaining her frequency, Lixy’s sensitive ears would definitely have been able to hear Firsen. It seemed like he was trying to greet the Avie servant.

Oh. There it was, a sudden shift in posture. Head tipped back, eyes narrowed. He brushed a darkened strand of hair from her face, noting the hollowness of that stare.

He suddenly set both hands on the Avie girl’s shoulders, sending a bright pulse of Dyne that snapped Lixy’s delicate hold on the frequency. It felt like being seared for an instant by hot metal, and made Lixy jerk in her seat with a little gasp.

She knew Firsen saw that. She had been discovered. And somehow, she had been overridden by his Dyne.

But most importantly, he was about to tattle on her to the whole room.

-

1062 words

I'm back! ^^ Uhh we make up for missing last week with an extra 62 words on this end, ehehe.

More backstory, from a different perspective this time. Lixy and Firsen pester each other all the time, and while they aren't exactly on friendly terms, they're not sworn enemies. More like rivals.

They're practically pre-teens right now so they're just bothering each other as children do, y'know?

This takes place wayyy before Arensky arrives (maybe about 9-10 years) - see "The Weight of Radiance".

This also takes place before Calire and the Other Human (maybe 5-6 years) - see "The Fledge and the Fugitive".

Some context:

Nolixea (Lixy) - one of the "princesses" (runere) of House Melonykas. Bat based. Elegantly boiling inside.

Firsen - crown "prince" (runir) of House Streykas. Dragonfly based. A little bit of a hot mess.

Calire (the Avie girl) - Firsen's companion and healer's apprentice (not a servant). Bird based.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#357 - It's So Obvious] - Sweet Summer Child

-verse: Antikrypha Story: Round Robin Heads-Up: We’re having fluff today. Mechanic boy navigates friendship feels with help of his android pal.

-

Tanager left the door open a crack, enough so he could wave to Lark and her parents as they pulled out of the parking lot. When the crunching of tires on gravel became inaudible at last, he shut the door.

He leaned against the wall, looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes. 

“I couldn’t get my hands on one of those nice, official looking ones. But this should have all of the info, I made sure of it! I’d… like to have a friend there.”

Clenched in trembling fingers was the hand-decorated index card Lark had handed him just before leaving. She had seemed uncharacteristically… nervous? Not timid or stammering, but buzzing and breathless and beating around the bush. Usually she was quite direct, to the same degree that Tanager was reticent.

But maybe that was why she had given him the card instead. Because he would’ve shut down when she asked. 

He heard the slightly lopsided clink-clank of Radian approaching, and opened his eyes to meet the android’s concerned stare.

[Is something on your mind, Tanager? You seem down.]

“Not sad. Just… processing.”

[Is this about Miss Lark?]

“She… she invited me to the summer festival.”

[Oh! Congratulations!] Radian beamed, patting Tanager on the shoulder. [You ARE going, right?]

Tanager looked out the workshop window, seeing if his parents were still closing up. “What about all the work that I’ll miss-”

[Isn’t it on a Saturday?] 

He looked down at the card. “Um. Yeah. But–”

Radian set both hands on the boy’s shoulders. [The only possible true excuse you can use is if you don’t want to go to the festival at all. Do you not?]

“I-I… I do want to go!” He winced, suddenly embarrassed, then appalled at his own guilt of voicing his desire for something. “I’ve just… I’ve never been asked to a-a dance before, and maybe she just invited me out of courtesy.” Would she really want to hang out with him all day?

[And yet! She spends hours in your company every Wednesday.]

“She… that’s different. She’s just waiting for our parents to do business. A-and I’m the only one her age here.”

Radian pointed at the card. [She made an invitation, by HAND, for you.]

“M-maybe she was… bored?” Tanager reasoned. “She’s already very good at crafts.”

[She also brings you pastries every week.]

“She does.” Tanager hunched his shoulders. “I should probably pay her back…”

[PAY her?? You really are something else.] Radian face-palmed and shook his head, but his grin seemed to get even wider. [It’s so OBVIOUS.]

“What is?”

[She LIKES you. She wants to be your FRIEND.] Now Radian was practically shaking Tanager by the shoulders. [And I know you feel the same way, Tanager Kytan.]

“W-w-what do you mean?” he stammered, voice made more tremulous by the shaking.

[Despite how many excuses you make to yourself that you don’t deserve friendship without strings attached. Your attempt to conceal your mutual enjoyment of her company makes you seem heartless.] 

Tanager said nothing, but the redness of his face verified the truth of that statement. Now he looked ashamed. How could an android know more than a human boy about something so nuanced as feelings?

Radian softened his grip. [Tanager.]

“Yeah?”

[You can be so oblivious, you sweet summer child. But you are not cruel. Only confused. Shutting away your heart is not protecting it, it is stifling it. Be human. Go to the festival.]

“What do I tell my parents?”

[They have a booth at the festival. Were you not aware?]

“Ohh.”

-

595 words

Oh the fluff returns. Radian is such a good older bro. He is much better at Feelings than the actual human kiddo is. Maybe because he's spent so much time analyzing human feelings so he can get good at them.

Sorry if this pinged twice, I had some weird copy-paste fight with tumblr, but if it doesn't count this time that's okay ^^"

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

>> Lore Drop: Smoke and Mirrors

Realm: Circadyne, of the Icruxti

-

Flare: Think of it like a halo or aura of light. It's correlated with Dyne capacity; the bigger the potential, the brighter the shine.

Flare can tell you a lot of things - Dyne capacity, energy levels, emotional state, even health status - but not all Icruxti can read the auras in great detail. At best, they can probably eyeball which altitude you're from. Sometimes big displays of magic or emotion will make the flare very obvious as well.

(Calire is one of those who can read flare - she's a healer! Most healers can. As well as those working more espionage or security type roles where it's important to gauge who's in the room.)

[How Humans Deal With It] They can't.

It's completely overwhelming to the senses. Flare is magic radiance of a wavelength that can't be processed by the brain, which defaults its experience to "bright and blurry". This usually triggers some crossover to other senses as well: a sharp taste in the mouth or stinging smell, pressure or prickling upon the skin.

Wouldn't go so far as to call it an eldritch overload experience, but it's undoubtedly unpleasant.

[On Reflections 🪞] The perception of flare is completely done by the brain. It doesn't exist on a visible light spectrum. And for some reason, it doesn't do well in reflections.

A camera that doesn't use any mirrors will still be scrambled by the radiant output of flare. But a mirror (or any reflective surface, really; a shiny tray, a still pool, etc.) will dissipate the smears of light and leave you with a nice, plain, non-shiny image of the Icruxti.

On that note, the Icruxti don't really like mirrors (particularly the high-Dyne ones). With their glow and glamour stripped away, it's almost like looking at a corpse. Because the only time Icruxti do not glow with Dyne (even those with minimal baseline), is when their life-force is fully spent.

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#356 - Into the Mirror] - Lessons from a Looking Glass

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Continuation of "The Fledge and the Fugitive". Apparently humans aren't good at interacting with things they can't see.

Part I - Part II (you are here)

–

This human was so hard to communicate with.

At first, she’d thought his disinclination to interact with her stemmed from his being understandably afraid of her, a strange being, not unlike those he had been running from. That, or he was just suffering too much to care. 

He never made eye-contact with her, one arm always covering his face the moment the click of her talons were audible in the hallway. Once, she tried talking to him, but he only set his jaw with a grimace. Maybe another day, then.

Three days after she began tending to him, doing little more than bringing him water and food (largely untouched) and ensuring his wound was not infected, she noticed an improvement. 

At least, she hoped it was an improvement. 

It was impossible to tell by his luminance, because humans did not have the flare by which Icruxti could judge health status, energy levels, innate Dyne capacity. Without that flare, it was frustrating, like trying to see through a tinted window.

So what? She’d just train her eyesight. She’d learn to read his surface and infer what was going on underneath.

She noticed he now sat up more often, rising by degrees with each passing hour until he was able to prop himself up at the corner of the wall. This was accompanied by a good deal of muttered noises and sharply inhaled breaths, and by the end of the ordeal, his face glistened with moisture. 

Was the moisture from relief? Exertion? Pain? She made a note of the three possibilities and resolved to track that symptom further.

Her eyesight was good enough to observe him from across the hall, but she couldn’t read the nuances of his expression and posture very well from a distance. Every time she drew near, any closer than the threshold of her room, he would turn away.

Shy? Afraid? Defiant? How was she supposed to tell anything if she couldn’t get a good look at his face? Was he expecting her to do something worse? 

She would do something nice for him, then. Change that variable, see how he responded.

–

That afternoon, she entered his cell carrying several thick blankets. Enough for him to use as a makeshift mattress (since he couldn’t climb onto his bed), with at least one left over to keep him warm.

She dropped the blankets in front of him. He didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes.

His water bucket was empty. Might as well go out and refill that, if he was going to sit here and be boring again.

“I’ll be back,” she told him, not sure if it was understood or reassuring to any degree, but she was tired of this silent charade. She turned around, misjudging the doorway by a few inches and skirting the wall instead. The drape over the window fell down. “Oops.”

Huh, this wasn’t a window from this side, but one of those one-way mirrors. Most Icruxti didn’t like looking at their reflections, which stripped away much of the Dyne aura that gave their appearance vitality and energy. 

Perhaps this really was used as a cell back in the day. Psychological pressure or something. 

She picked up the corner of the drape to tack it back up, then left the room.

–

The human had set up his new blanket pile to face away from her, against the wall right under the covered window so that she could not see him at all.

She’d panicked at first when she didn’t see him at a cursory glance from her room, wondering if he had run away somehow. 

(Highly doubtful, with half a leg missing, though she wouldn’t take her chances.)

But when she poked her head frantically into his room, her first rightward glance brought them face to face, inches away from smacking his head with hers. So startled that he actually yelled, and she squawked in surprise, and they both jerked away with wide eyes and pounding hearts.

Yeah, this wasn’t going to work.

“I cannot see you,” Calire intoned slowly, trying for a second chance at communication, “when you sit away from the door. And then we scare each other. Like just now.”

His knees were drawn up to his chest, head tucked between them and under one arm. The other hand held out, a gesture of ‘please keep your distance, you’re too close’.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was the problem. Her presence overwhelmed him somehow. Was there something about the Icruxti that human minds just… couldn’t process? 

She backed away, not totally out of sight, but hoping the distance would coax further response from him.

Now he was pointing at the far wall. He wanted her to come back inside and stand over there? Well… okay. At no point did she ever suspect any trickery from him. This was the most interaction they’d exchanged thus far. Driven more by curiosity than anything else, she obliged, positioning herself right next to the original bed.

He reached up, feeling for the edge of the drape, then yanked down to reveal the reflective surface. Calire’s feathers ruffled slightly at the sight of her reflection, but she remained where she was.

Did he think she had a weakness to mirrors? He must’ve seen that she was bothered by the reflection and wanted to test that. The thought amused her; she didn’t know whether to praise his cleverness, punish his craftiness, or pity his incorrect conclusion. Maybe she should play along? What would he do in response?

But no, he wasn’t paying attention to her. Not directly, at least, He gripped the windowsill now, trying to balance on one knee and one stump as he looked into the glass, catching her reflected gaze with his, making eye contact for the first time.

He was looking at her! 

Ohh, it made sense now. The reflection dissipated her Dyne flare, and he could see her true features underneath.

Maybe she could repurpose this looking-glass to help them both.

-

1001 words

For the amount of plot that actually happened here, I reaped way too much worldbuilding on the side out of it ^^"

On the plus side, I've figured out some sciencey stuff behind Dyne flare and mirrors! Fantastic prompt to flesh that out.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#355 - A Curious Connection] - The Fledge and the Fugitive (I)

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Backstory glimpse at the history between Calire and that first human. A little bit of injury description, nothing particularly graphic. I expect this will be at least a two- or three-parter :)

Part I (you are here) - Part II

–

Keep it alive.

Those were her only instructions. That was her only responsibility. This was outside the scope of anything she’d ever learned. Because this was a human.

She barely had time to lay eyes on that dusty, dim form before being hustled out to the next hallway. 

Her mentor for this rotation was not a shining example of patience nor presence. After a wordless whirlwind tour of the station that she could’ve given herself, she was left in the hallway while more Important Matters were attended to.

No one was going to tell her why a human was being detained here?

Or maybe why she needed to keep the human alive?

How alive? The biology between Icruxti and humans was not totally analogous. They were trusting a healer’s apprentice, who had never been responsible for a patient on her own, to take care of this other creature, without reliable supervision?

Ohhh. 

They probably didn’t care about this human. Like they didn’t care about her.

So they gave her a subject to practice on, one that was low-stakes enough so her mentor wouldn’t be accused of medical negligence if she messed up, but distinctly different enough to really test her skills. 

It was a bit like asking a doctor to operate on a stray dog someone rescued.

Or maybe it was more like setting her up for failure. 

They were incredibly unsubtle about their disdain for her pursuit of the healing arts. And for being so buddy-buddy with the crown prince, even though she was from a totally different House and shouldn’t be in the Circuit anyways. Probably why they sent her to such a remote rotation.

Too bad for them. In four weeks, she would return. Even if she didn’t get to learn the spells and interventions she was hoping to, she was determined to get something out of this.

–

Though she’d never interacted up close with a human before, she’d seen enough of them from a distance to make a few useful observations.

This human was a male human. Age, she couldn’t really tell, because even the older humans were relatively young compared to the long-lived Icruxti.

This human was still alive. Which was a good starting place. She had been told to keep him alive, not to bring him back to life, and she was so glad that they weren’t so eager to fail her as to ask her something ridiculous like that.

But this human was not doing well. Most humans stood up and moved around and made noises. This one just laid there. Especially while she was watching him.

Also, he was missing something. 

Like, half of a leg.

–

He was a runaway.

After asking one of the station sentries more about this human, she’d gleaned some backstory. He had been found in the storage area below the station, having left trailmarkers of his pain all the way from the cliffside path into the service tunnels. 

How he’d managed to drag himself here with such a badly injured leg amazed them all, but the moment someone pointed out the mangled cuff around that weeping, blackened ankle, the sparks of sympathy fizzled away, replaced by swift, systemic protocol.

In their eyes, he had brought this upon himself. He didn’t deserve their pity.

The only medical intervention they had provided for him was to remove the source of infection and pain. And with it, all his chances of escape.

–

Her closet was right across his cell. 

Well, both of them were rooms. Normal rooms, just repurposed (and a bit small), so she felt a rebranding was in order. After all, what was she but a tool, and what was he but a prisoner?

He was always silent when she came in to tend the dressings on his leg or monitor his temperature. But when darkness fell, in the throes of pain and fever and nightmares, whispers and groans escaped unbidden.

This particularly fascinated Calire. She couldn’t understand his tongue, but she was obsessed with its sound. Such a strange, dusty language. So organic, so rough, so raw.

She didn’t know how to take care of him. It was hard to tell what he wanted, or what kind of pain he was in, or if he was thirsty or hungry or too hot or too cold. If only she could understand, if only she could communicate… 

She left her door open at night, hoping to catch those whispers, find a pattern, and understand.

-

745 words

No, this human is not Arensky. There was one human Calire got to interact with before Arensky came, which is why she knows how to speak with human sounds.

"He is just a backstory side character," I tell myself that as I write him and get attached and set myself up for heartbreak :>

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#354 - What is the Prompt?] - Radio Silence

-verse: Katanorias Story: Incomplete Rendering Heads-Up: I don’t know what I’m doing :D And neither does Jasi.

–

“You know, every time I complained about having an office job, that was a joke.”

She kept her voice just audible enough for her to hear, a quiet conversation with her immediate space-bubble that was only occupied by herself. Loud enough to feel like she wasn’t whispering, soft enough to not mar the stillness of the empty subway tunnels.

“Well, partially a joke. I didn’t think anyone would take me up on it.” With the Katanorias klyptai, it was impossible to be certain when they were being serious or not. “Guess I was wrong.”

She adjusted her jacket, tugging the hood out from under her bag straps so it wasn’t being an annoying lopsided lump against her shoulders. With that imperfection of balance restored, she suddenly became aware of the uneven tightness of her boot laces.

How did Telerand do this? Travel? All the time? By himself?

The silence hadn’t bothered her up until this point, when she found herself wishing for someone else, anyone else, to be here with her. 

All her desk-work at the lab, stationary though it was, sat in the middle of a hub of activity and arguments, interaction and interruption. Messages pinging her screen, a dozen tabs open and two physical drawers as well, with a couple of granola bars and a half-full soda can somewhere in reach.

There was an unopened can of soda in her bag, but she didn’t feel like she’d earned it yet. And the fizz always tasted better when she was multitasking to the beat of constant notifications and clicks of her keyboard.

Now that she thought about it, the fact that her pager had remained quiet since she’d stepped out of the station was a slightly disquieting observation. Not a single message, not a single beep, not even the background chatter of people flipping through the wrong frequency.

Meia had told her that she would receive directions of some sort. A hint. A clue. Jasi was good at piecing together information. But that assumed she had information in the first place to work with.

Was the signal bad here? Was she supposed to talk to that ticket collector girl? 

Had she missed the prompt? 

“My first field assignment and they leave me on read,” Jasi huffed, trying to keep her mood light. She brought the screen closer to her face, the pink glow from the fiery ends of her hair casting wavering shadows around her.

Suppose they were just messing with her. Everything was a game to dimensional beings. A game or a test. 

Or maybe that’s what she talked herself into believing. Because in the event that this was real, and there was something more going on… she wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with it.

A low, melancholy moan whooshed through the tunnels. It stopped for a few moments, then started up again. Not regular enough to be considered breathing, but it made the tunnels feel like the throat of some colossal creature.

“I taste horrible and also I’m spontaneously flammable,” Jasi called out, feeling a little silly, but it felt necessary to keep her mood light and banish the looming, shadowy feeling.

She refused to fall prey to the same paranoia she’d witnessed with Scap’s case. He was insecure in his personal value to others. Jasi knew the Visors needed her skills. If she were scared (which she wasn’t right now, no, just a little uneasy), she felt that she was more deservedly paranoid of external things, like whatever inhabited and permeated these temporal wastes. 

Relic Fields, to her knowledge, were full of half-tangible memories; the echoes of events and the silhouettes of souls. While they were allegedly “safe” for missions, the supporting evidence was hardly a strong case. 

Yes, Telerand had been on many Relic Assignments. Yes, he’d survived them all, so far.

But he’d also fallen off a cliff twice, been attacked by creatures, been attacked by pirates, nearly froze to death, and gotten lost in a shifting labyrinth for days.

And in Jasi’s books, survivable did not necessarily mean safe.

“Then again,” Jasi murmured with a little laugh, “he’s not exactly the stealthiest signal in the sector. Electrical, biological, and dimensional wavelengths all stacked on top of each other. Practical beacon for all sorts of trouble in the area–”

The tunnel moaned again. Louder, sharper, more… anguished, if she were to assign a feeling to the sound. Her hair flared brighter; she yanked the hood over her head to douse its light, not wanting to become the very thing she was just picking on Telerand about.

Then her pager chose this exact moment to come to life.

PING! PING!

“Of course,” she hissed, fumbling with the device and trying to kill the volume. “Of course everything all happens now. Answering my wishes at the most inconvenient time possible.” 

She was fully about to pop open the case and disconnect the wires, but a new symbol on the display caught her eye. “What in the–”

Those stacked signals had certainly looked like Telerand’s signatures, but a second look at the dimensional wave in particular showed her that they were peaking at all the wrong frequencies. 

Actually, they were exactly opposite all of Telerand’s peaks. 

She would know; she’d spent far too many hours trying to track his location for the lab that she had it memorized by now. 

Telerand had always considered his dimensional signature a residue of the thing that had been taken out of him.

Then the inverse of that would have to be… the rest of it.

Now that Jasi thought about it, there was nothing in Telerand’s records that ever mentioned what had been done with the extracted being. There existed no standard protocols for how to properly dispose of dimensional beings separated from their hosts. Katelais had been the first (and only) group to successfully manage that.

Suppose they were experimenting.

Suppose they had gotten careless.

Suppose… well, Jasi supposed she was going to find out soon.

-

999 words

What started as exploring Jasi's shift suddenly became a speculation about Telerand's past. What is the prompt indeed.

I had an idea. I had such an idea. I was going to grab Technician back in here but he ended up not showing up at all. Telly why are you mentioned so many times you're not even physically present- this is Jasi's story get out of the limelight--

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#353 - Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing] - Fuel for the Flame

-verse: Off the Rails Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up:  Dulagast, the duke of gaslighting. He is so totally a problem. And none of the trio can see it because he has such supportive-uncle vibes.

–

The collapse of House Melonykas meant the succession would have to pass back to House Streykas. Many of the remaining court members and council were anticipating with mixed emotions the return of the Exarch prince to the throne.

The prince’s choice of companions had already been causing a stir in the court; a healer’s apprentice and a human guard, of all people, to have as his closest confidants? An unlikely trio of support for someone about to rule the realm.

Yet there was no denying the fact that they were an impenetrably tight-knit team.

There was no way to single Firsen out without the other two picking up on it. And there was no way to get rid of the other two without Firsen noticing.

This would be a long game. A long game of trust slowly built, slowly withered; of miscommunication and distance; of misunderstandings and mistakes carried out with the best of intentions.

And Dulagast, advisor to the throne for decades now, had perfected this strategy.

–

The healer had the sharpest eyes, the keenest perception. Calire knew the most about both Firsen and Arensky, and she was the least likely to be duped by misunderstandings. To leave her in the equation would risk undoing so many of the snares Dulagast would set, so she needed to be kept away first.

Thankfully, that was quite easy. She was drawn to disaster like a scavenger to carrion, not to ravage or dismantle, but for the much more noble calling of providing remedy and relief. The spike in Crit incidents had been keeping her busy, either in the wards or out in the city, trying to catch new cases before they went off.

She had mentioned to Firsen once, while Dulagast had been in the room, her suspicions of a secret party involved in causing these Crit incidents.

Sharp as a raptor, unsuspecting as a swallow. A bright, dangerous mind indeed. If it had been anyone else, Dulagast would’ve found a way to effectively silence them for sniffing too close to Catalyst’s underground scheme.

But he could kill two birds with one stone – or rather, get the bird away from her trio, and acquire her talents for Catalyst’s cause.

“Lady Calire, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the runix the other day. I’ve heard whispers of this group – we’ve been trying to track them down for decades, but not many are willing to investigate a mere rumor.” “If rumors were investigated more often, fewer disasters would happen… I’d do it. I’ve asked Firsen, and he says I should. But I don’t even know where to start. Do you know what they’re called?” “Yes… I believe I’ve heard they call themselves ‘Catalyst’.” “Finally, a name! This is helpful. So helpful. I– ah, thank you, Master Dulagast.” “Anytime, Lady Calire. I wish you well on your investigation.”

Bingo.

–

The guard was the most grounded, most emotionally aware, and so far had subverted all the expectations of the Icruxti so far with the resilience of his human frame. At no point in their entire history had a human ever served as a scutar. This was beyond a simple guard position; he acted as Firsen’s personal guard, his shield, his anchor.

But the strength of his vow to Firsen would be the weakness Dulagast would exploit. 

The rules were different in the court. While Arensky may have helped Firsen gain favor with the lower regions, a human’s opinion and way of life meant nothing in the Crux. He would be as useful to Firsen as a fish would be in teaching a bird to fly. 

It was only a matter of time before he sought something to do. And Dulagast had a place prepared.

“Master Advisor.” “Scutar. What brings you here?” “I’m afraid my role as Firsen’s defense is lost here. The Crux is well-protected. Is there some other way my services are needed?” “You are in Firsen’s closest circle. Did he not extend a title to you?” “I… with all due respect, sir, I can’t see myself doing that. Firsen already offered. I couldn’t take it. Give me an active role, please.” “It is astounding to see such loyalty to House Streykas, from a human too. Truly noble. Have you considered the training level? Some of the younger nobles may need some practice sparring.”

How ironic: the first place Arensky had been assigned as a fresh prisoner of the Icruxti, rescued by Firsen to be his guard, now returning to that very same job.

Dulagast would make sure the young nobles did not hold back. To do so might insult Arensky’s dignity, wouldn’t it?

–

Finally, the young ruler. Caught in the complicated emotions of his return, not as an heir coming to rightfully claim his throne, but the spare stepping up to do his duty in the wake of House Melonykas’ collapse.

He had so much potential. All that leaking, unstable Dyne… he was either a Crit incident waiting to happen, or he could be the ultimate force of House Streykas to change the realm forever.

Both choices were favorable for Dulagast. He just needed Firsen to embrace his power. 

“It is wonderful to see a Streykas Essent on the throne once more.” “... Father seemed to think otherwise.” “Your father did not think you were weak, Firsen. He was trying to protect you from the stress of the throne. It can be dangerous. Certainly taxing. He was worried for you.” “But it’s my duty. He didn’t even give me a chance to prove I can handle it.” “I know you can. The power you have? I see it. And I see that you are strong enough to harness it.” “Really? Then… will you help me do that, Dulagast?” “It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.”

He would fuel this flame, making Firsen the brightest thing the Crux had seen in decades.

And when the young ruler finally reached his critical point, Dulagast would sit back and watch the fireworks.

-

997 words

Honestly, this was good for plot outline notes, and it has made me realize how complicated this series of unfortunate events will be, because Dulagast will just stack misunderstanding upon misunderstanding... duke of gaslighting indeed.

Yes, it gets worse. Much much worse, for Fiers and Arensky (and also Calire as she side-quests). But I also know how it ends and it will be spectacular and Not Totally Tragic, I promise :D

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#352 - Scrapped Ideas] - The Notebook

-verse: Antikrypha Story: Round Robin Heads-Up: I just finished taking a 3 hour exam about kidneys. It was rough. So now we are doing fluff. Lark manipulates Tanager into conversation. Takes place after "Breadcrumbs".

–

She found him sitting on the bench outside the workshop.

She’d never actually seen him outside the workshop before. She wasn’t even sure she’d ever seen him sit before.

“Hey Tanager!”

The red-headed kid jerked his head up, tucking something quickly away into his pocket, but his posture relaxed when he recognized his visitor. “Hi Lark.” His gaze flickered to the paper bag in her hands, only for an instant before averting his eyes.

Lark fought back a grin. She knew he was expecting sweets. Why did he look so embarrassed? “Did you eat breakfast yet?”

Tanager rubbed the back of his neck. “I… had a glass of orange juice?”

“That absolutely does not count,” Lark said, jaw open in exaggerated disbelief. She opened the paper bag. “Chocolate croissant. All yours.”

“O-oh but what… what about you?” he stammered.

“Do you not want it?”

“I… it… I guess I…” He kept glancing over his shoulder (at what? No one was in the shop) and then over her shoulder, as if someone might come rescue him from making a decision.

This boy. Really cannot. 

With a dramatic sigh, Lark closed up the bag. “I guess I can save it for lunch, but then it won’t be warm and melty and soft anymore–”

“No, wait! I’ll eat it!” Tanager cried, catching her wrist to stop her from putting it away. He let her go immediately with a string of mumbled apologies.

“It’s okay.” She still had the bag in her hands. “So are you going to eat it because you want it, or because it seems like I want you to want it?”

Tanager pressed his lips together, and she could see the gears turning in his brain. “That’s an unfair question–” he started, but his stomach answered for him with a loud gurgle. 

She raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, knowing that if she started laughing, he might just combust and disintegrate from mortification.

Though it was amazing to see how close his face could get to the shade of his hair.

“I had breakfast with my parents before we came here. This is for you.” 

She dropped the bag in his lap, because clearly he wasn’t about to take it himself, or ask her for it, or move an inch without getting input on what he should be doing. He looked a little bit… lost. His hands looked like they needed something to do. 

Maybe conversation would get him to loosen up. And forget about his stomach’s outburst.

“Is the shop closed today?” she asked. “Wait, my parents had to pick up someth–”

“No, we’re still open. Just not the workshop,” Tanager replied. He opened the paper bag and took a deep, satisfied sniff of the bread inside. “Some people are coming to inspect. Happens once a month.”

“Oohhh.” Lark watched Tanager take a bite of the croissant, chewing in silence with his eyes closed. He took another bite, and then another. 

Maybe the intermittent rustling of the paper and the lack of Lark’s usual commentary made him suddenly feel self–conscious, because he glanced at her with one hand covering his mouth. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

She turned her head away briefly, fighting another smile. “I was just wondering if you do this every time.”

“Do what?”

“Sit outside on the bench by yourself and stare off into space.”

Tanager swallowed, setting aside the half-eaten croissant. “Well, normally I’m by myself. But I’m not staring off into space.”

Lark bounced up and down on her toes. “So what would you be doing instead?”

“I… I mean, normally I have–” He stopped himself, scratching his head as if trying to figure out what felt off. Finally he scooted over on the bench. “Could… could you please sit? It’s weird that you’re standing and I’m not.”

“Why, thank you. I thought so too.” Lark took the free space. “Soooo?”

“So… what?”

Okay, there was no way he had that short of a conversation memory. Now he was actively dodging her question. She didn’t want to be too direct; it was like trying to approach a bird that was seconds from taking off. But maybe just a nudge in the right direction would get things rolling. 

“You put something away when I called your name earlier.”

There, a twitch. Jackpot. “Oh, that… nothing important.”

Even more curious. Because if he thought even breakfast and basic needs were not important enough to carve out time for, then what side interest could possibly capture his attention in such a way? 

She leaned forwards. “Are you writing… poetry?”

Tanager leaned back. “What? No. Do I look like I write poetry?”

“Secretly wonderful poetry, I bet. About flowers and sky and stars–” She tilted her head, sweeping her arm as if visualizing such a landscape.

“Not poetry–” Tanager repeated, shaking his head, but she didn’t stop, knowing he would break soon.

“And the birds that you wake up to in the mornings, before the sun is even up, during the breakfast time that you don’t eat, but maybe you drink in sunrays and silence instead. The deepest yearnings of the soul for nature, walled up in a world of metal and gears…” 

“It isn’t poetry, I’m telling you – here, look!” He whipped out a little notebook from his pocket and thumbed through the pages, flipping it around to show her. “They’re ideas. Mostly scrapped ones. Not really worth trying.”

She looked at the page that was open. A clockwork bird, with intricate gears and articulated wings. Notes in a hurried script filled the margins and spaces in between. “That looks really cool. You should try it. I think you can do it.”

He seemed startled, like he wasn’t expecting a compliment. “Well… maybe when I have more time.”

“I was right about there being birds. Maybe you are a romantic.”

“That was all you. Also, ‘deepest yearnings of the soul’... really?”

“I was just trying to sound like my English teacher.”

-

1000 words

I was going somewhere with the prompt, but then it took a big detour in the middle because Lark decided to tease Tanager a little bit, and then we had croissants and poetry... and then the actual prompt-related thing appeared in the last 100 words.

I guess you could say my original idea was a scrapped idea XD

Oh, the pure innocent friendship of two barely-even-teens.

I hope nothing bad happens to them later :)

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[scatteriskity]

>> Lore Drop: On Dyne

Realm: Circadyne, of the Icruxti

Dyne: the magical force of this realm. Technically, saying that the Icruxti possess Dyne is not a totally accurate description; they all possess a capacity to use it.

Ambient Dyne is everywhere in the atmosphere. The saturation of Dyne in the atmosphere increases the higher up you go.

The higher up you go, the greater Dyne capacity you must have to live up there.

The higher Dyne capacity you have, the more you can do with it.

What does this mean? Higher capacity Dyne users living at higher altitudes. Indeed, the realm has a vertical progression of power. It's not purely social stratification, but a physiological one as well.

It's less of an elemental manipulation power, and more like a force? An energy? Something like that.

Typical uses:

Common: create a spark/light a fire, jumpstart a small device, hold something together temporarily

Skilled (often in combo with casting): minor healing or mending, short-range telekinesis, ability boost (speed, sensory, strength), change temperature

Expert: manifestations (flight, claws, armor, etc.), major healing/mending, dominance, environmental effect

-

The Consequences of Dyne Overload

Dyne overload affects Icruxti and humans differently. Humans are not built to breathe Dyne, which displaces oxygen at high saturation. The result is a Dyne saturation crisis, functionally leading to hypoxia that can be fatal if not corrected rapidly. A late stage sat-crisis can also present with blue-tinged sweat, tears, or fluid coughed up from the lungs.

True Dyne overload, however, exerts its effects on Icruxti who are in Dyne environments that are more concentrated than their capacity can handle. Often presenting as a "fever and flare" - new or existing Dyne markings glowing and radiating heat - with agitation and aggression, or confusion and lethargy.

This can be avoided through proper capacity training, and by not ascending altitude too quickly.

[scatteriskity]

[FFF#351 - Behind the Lights] - The Weight of Radiance

-verse: Off the Rails (new!) Story: The Circadyne Succession Heads-Up: Description of difficulty breathing and life-endangerment. Humans are not meant for Dyne dense atmospheres. He’s fine he’s fine.

–

It had been two hours into his new captivity, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d make it through the night. 

Right now, he was lying flat on the floor of his enclosure, taking deep, gasping breaths to fill oxygen-starved lungs.

It wasn’t like the air here was thin. The higher up he found himself, the thicker the air felt. It didn’t feel like air that he was supposed to breathe, and that concerned him. Saturated with something heavy and rich, a substance that his lungs were not equipped to handle.

He knew there were other humans in this realm. They must’ve had some way to survive, right? Come to think of it, he’d hardly seen any humans in this area, only down by the trading paths that he and his companions had traversed.

Companions? No. He saw it for what it was now. 

“We’re looking for someone to accompany us through the Icruxti realm.”

He had been selected for this journey, not because he was particularly valued as someone with combat experience and survival skills. There had been no need for that up until this point; they had followed a well-traveled merchant’s road and had stopped in small towns for lodging and food. 

“It won’t be a tough job. Just a bit of security while we’re on our way.”

As it turned out, his value as “security” was not in physical defense, but as a bargaining chip. They had planned for this. He was a stranger to their party, and they needed someone they weren’t too attached to to be the offering.

The mercenary lifestyle hadn’t been one that he relished having to enter, but he wondered if his morals had gotten him into this mess this time. He should’ve been tipped off by the fact that they suggested paying him all at the end, rather than splitting it up with an initial, secure fee. 

But no. He’d just said yes.

The entire journey up to this point had been bothering him, and at last he could actually pinpoint its source. The realization of all this could’ve been a weight off his chest. 

If only the crushing weight of this supernaturally saturated air wasn’t counteracting that.

–

The Icruxti came by to gawk at him. 

At least, he assumed that’s what they were doing. What he could see of their forms were silhouettes backlit by hazy halations, sometimes blurring like a picture out of focus, sometimes glitching like a chromatic aberration. 

All the time too bright to look at, without making his head feel like it was going to implode.

He could hear them too. The walls of his enclosure weren’t solid, bounded by some buzzing, charged force that he had no desire (nor physical energy) to test right now. Every hiss and click, every whistle and shriek, sounds that bordered the cadence of language, yet were so obscured by these other noises to be frustratingly foreign and familiar at the same time.

Maybe they were trying to figure out what to do with him.

Maybe someone would notice he wasn’t looking very well. 

His face and arms glistened with sweat, yet his fingers felt numb with cold by comparison. He turned his head and coughed, bringing up nothing except a few drops of something frothy blue. 

Was it… supposed to be that color? Were his eyes just playing tricks on him?

If only he could understand. If only he could communicate. 

He laid one arm over his eyes and tried to conserve his energy, his state of mind.

–

The hum of the force field changed. Halos and whispers danced at the edge of his awareness, though at this point he couldn’t tell if they were spectators of his misery or specters come to guide him out of it. 

Suppose his human ex-team had really tried to sacrifice him to whatever higher beings lived up here. It finally entered his mind that he might expire here. Imminently.

He was certain the Icruxti were not divine beings. The ones they had traded with were visible and interactable, after all.

That didn’t mean people couldn’t mistake these for such, if some of them lived up here where the air was unbreathable and their forms unresolvable and their words indistinct, creatures of distorted light and sound. Maybe they were the closest things the locals had to “spirits”.

The hand he felt on his jaw was very much tangible and very much real, however. 

He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it, the sparking haze above him setting off fireworks in his brain’s optic processing center. Too weak and overwhelmed to fight back, he could only shake his head back and forth in protest.

“sTop moving… tRYing to… hELp You.”

Words! Words he could understand, despite them coming through like fragmented static on a bad radio. 

“DriNk. All oF it.”

Something cold and smooth tipped into his mouth, flavor indescribable to taste, momentarily so intense that it consumed him, almost unraveled him. 

It peaked, like a wave cresting, then carried him back down with a rushing throughout his nerves and vessels, breaking upon the shore, and receding into bubbles and foam. The coast left clean and clear.

It left him breathless, but in a much better way. He could fill his lungs now. And when he opened his eyes, the blinding flare was gone, and he could see the creature standing over him, features both soft and sharp at the same time. Slightly avian. Eyes large and dark, a mixture of concern and relief.

“Dyne saturation crisis. Sorry you had to go through that,” his rescuer whispered, lifting his head gently to put a cushion underneath. “Your name?”

When he paused, wondering what odd magic was allowing him to understand her, she clarified, “I speak your tongue.”

That was the most encouraging news he had heard all day. He cleared his throat. “... Arensky.”

“Just Arensky?”

“That’s all I need, and all you need.” 

“Fair enough, Arensky. My name is Calire. And you are at the Crux.”

-

1003 words

Backstory! We are starting at the beginning of this threesome's adventure. Arensky meets Calire. She is the first nice Icruxti and also just about the only one who bothers to try to speak to the humans. Or learn that humans can't survive in high Dyne environments.

He's the first human in a while though, so naturally they have no idea what the difference is between "normal scared human" and "human who is hypoxic and very much needing medical intervention".

Also this storyverse of random things (mostly things that have campaign running potential, like the world of the Icruxti and anything I write about Skeli/the Kokolsta) now goes into the big sandbox called "Off the Rails".

@flashfictionfridayofficial