Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #9: Shopping Spree]

Log Date: 10/14/12763

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka; Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drift: Corridor 3E

5:17pm SGT

“So, we’re going to be arriving to Sybione soon.” I explain, walking backwards down one of the halls of the Drift. Kayenta is following me, head cocked to one side. “Remember how I promised you could come to the city with us next time?”

“Yes. You said you were too busy to bring me last time, and told me that I would get lost.” she says as she follows me down the hall, hands clasped behind her back while her silver tails wind and twist behind her. “You said something about getting clothes for me.”

“Wow, you’ve got a really good memory.” I remark, sizing up her side-cut skirt, red like autumn leaves, and the rustic brown shirt she’s wearing today. “And yes, we need to get you normal clothes, so you can fit in if we happen to visit other modern planets and cultures.” I hold up a finger. “But, before we do that, we need to get you cleaned up a bit.”

She narrows her august eyes at me. “I’m clean. I swam in the pond the other day.”

I take breath, avoiding eye contact with her. “I… well, yes, the pond is clean, for a certain relativistic definition of clean. But it’s not actually a hygienic body of water. If we’re going to take you into civilization, we need to get you a proper bath, with soap and shampoo and all that.”

Her eyes stay narrowed, and she starts to slow down as we come to an intersection of halls. “Soap and shampoo? Will it make me smell like a human?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” I equivocate, stopping my backwards walk. “But the idea is that it gets you clean and smelling good. I take a shower every day! Which is like a bath, except it’s sprinkle-y…ish. Kind of like rain, I suppose.”

She stops in front of me me, eyes still narrowed suspiciously. “I do not need a wash, little feast. I already bathed in the pond. I am clean enough.”

“Weeee’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that.” I say, trying to be as respectful as possible while still being firm. “Bottom line is this: you don’t get to go into the city with us unless you take a bath.”

She folds her arms, leaning in slightly. “Then make me.” she challenges softly.

I suck in a deep breath and huff it out, shoving my hands in my pockets as I avoid Kayenta’s gaze and instead stare up at the ceiling. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then.”

“Oh really?” she says, still waiting for me to meet her demanding gaze.

I nod and take a step back as the sound of pelting boots echoes down the hallway. Kayenta’s ears tilt and swivel towards the source of the sound, and she looks around just in time to get blindsided by a full-body flying tackle from Lysanne, who’s dressed head to toe in a sealed hazmat suit. Kayenta’s knocked clean off her feet, both of them slamming to the floor with a heavy thud and sliding for some distance. Dandy goes running past me a second later, with a length of silver rope we usually keep for holding arcane creatures steady in the decontamination room when we first bring them aboard.

“Lysanne and Dandy will help get you cleaned up, since it’d be indecent for me to help you with that.” I explain, Dandy starting to wrap Kayenta’s wrists and ankles while Lysanne holds her down. “You probably haven’t taken a real bath in a long time, so… this one might take a while. If you behave, though, it’ll go faster, and we’ll let you have ice cream tonight.”

There’s nothing but a mixed cacophony of angry chittering fox noises and screams from Kayenta as she tries to squirm free of Lysanne and Dandy, peppered with hisses and snarls sent in my direction. She’s livid, and she starts thrashing when she realizes she can’t ghost through the rope that Dandy’s used to tie her up.

“You owe me another smoothie for this, Jazel.” Lysanne says as she stands, grabbing Kayenta’s wrists while Dandy grabs her ankles, and both of them lift. “That’s what, like four smoothies you owe me now?”

“I’ll get them for you once we visit Sybione tomorrow.” I say, biting my lip as I see the murderous look that Kayenta’s shooting at me.

“You’re breaking our pact, little feast!” she snarls. “I’m gonna kill your friends, and then I’m gonna come kill you!”

“It’s just a bath, Kaya. It’s not the end of the world.” I point out. “Our pact is still intact.”

Based on her indignant screeching, she seems to understand I’m telling the truth, but she’s still livid about the hygienic mandate. As Lysanne and Dandy march her off, Kayenta’s hissing and spitting grows fainter and fainter, until it’s cut off by the sound of the decontamination door closing and sealing. Everything’s quiet for a few seconds, and I turn away to go finish off some reports from the last assignment we took care of.

I wince when an even louder screeching rips through the halls, albeit muffled by the walls of the decontamination room. Sounds like Kayenta just got dumped in the rinse tub. Rubbing the back of my neck, I start walking a little faster, hoping that Lysanne won’t change her mind about giving Kayenta a bath.

Down the hall, there’s a hiss as the door of the decontamination room spirals open, and Lysanne sticks her head out. “JAZEL! You’re the resident foxfluffer; get yo’ ass in here and help wash this infernal creature!”

I start walking even faster, then break into a run. “Sorry, I… uhm… have reports… to file! You can do it, I believe in you!”

“Jazel! Dammit! You owe me two smoothies for this, you weak little witchling!”

Jazel’s Journal

The last two weeks on the Drift have been… weird.

Things have been weird ever since the visit to Pallus, really. I don’t know why Lysanne and Milor kept me out of the loop with Dandy’s jailbreaking, but it seems like Lysanne managed to get things smoothed over with Dandy. Yet despite that, Dandy’s different now. It’s hard to really describe it, but if you asked me to try, I’d put it this way:

Before, Dandy felt like a robot that was struggling to be human.

Now, she feels like a human struggling to act like a robot.

Though it doesn’t seem like she’s changed all that much, I can see the way she interacts with the rest of us is different. Sometimes she slides into more informal speech patterns before catching herself and reverting back to her stiff work vocabulary. Before, she barely expressed emotion at an unexpected turn of events; now, I see her pause to evaluate her response, as if considering how to react to things. Before, she would only speak her mind if asked to; now, I can tell that she wants to speak her mind, but refrains from doing so.

It’s not like I care about these changes particularly much — my relationship with Dandy is pretty much the same it’s always been, even with the changes — but there’s definitely a different rhythm to daily life on the Drift now.

Lysanne seems to be happy with the new rhythm, though. A lot of her focus has been on Dandy; she’s been paying more attention to Dandy, asking how she’s doing, going out of her way to make sure Dandy’s involved in the activities that the rest of us are involved in. Things like playing games, watching shows, being part of dinner even though she never eats anything. I don’t really understand it, but it seems important to Lysanne, so I haven’t fought it.

Besides, I have problems of my own to deal with.

Lysanne’s been so fixated on Dandy that I think she’s entirely forgotten about the thing with Grimes and his elf gang on Pallus. I know Dandy’s a big deal to her, but I felt disgruntled by the fact that she didn’t pay any attention to the fact that I got attacked and almost killed. After a while, I decided that I didn’t feel like bringing it up again, or trying to explain it to her all over again. If she wanted to forget about Grimes and his soul-stealing elf gang, that was fine.

It just meant that I could work on it without her constantly watching over my shoulder.

By taking what Kayenta had disclosed about the knife, and her apparently instinctual knowledge of its background, I’d been able to narrow down my research to something that had actually been useful — a specific time period within Rantecevang’s history. Apparently the knife belonged to a family of soul-stealing weapons used by the Viscori — people afflicted with a magical disease that slowly ate away at their souls. Viscori usually died once the disease had eaten through their soul, so to prevent that and prolong their lives, they had created soul-stealing weapons — which gave the disease something else to chew on, and gave the Viscori more time to live.

So that was the background of the weapon. But unless Grimes and his elves were afflicted with the Viscori disease, it didn’t explain why they needed a weapon like this. And furthermore, it didn’t explain why they wanted us to hand over Kayenta to them — and what they were planning on doing with her.

These were the things that had been on my mind recently. Wondering who Grimes really was, and how he’d been able to find us even after we’d left Vissengard. Because if he could track us from Vissengard all the way to Pallus, then there was a good chance he could track us to other systems as well. The encounter on Pallus probably wouldn’t be the last we saw of him, especially if he was serious about getting his hands on Kayenta.

And I knew I should probably tell the others — warn them, or at least let them know it might be a possibility we’d run into Grimes and his gang again. But I wasn’t happy about the way they’d treated me, fretting over Dandy while they’d left me alone on the surface of Pallus to get kidnapped and almost killed by Grimes and his gang. So when they found out — if they ever did find out — they could find our the hard way.

Until then, I’d keep working on the project, and figure out a way to create a new food source for Kayenta on my own.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drift: Decontamination Room

6:28pm SGT

“Look, fox bitch, the more you struggle, the longer this is gonna take!”

Kayenta’s only response is to twitch, thrash a little, and hiss at me. Currently, I’ve got her in a hold with one arm around her neck, gripping the inside of my other elbow with the hand of that arm locked behind her head — a hold I’d learned during CURSE’s basic training. My legs are wrapped around her waist to try and hold her still; add onto that the fact that Dandy is straddling her legs to keep her pinned down, and I doubt Kayenta’s going anywhere anytime soon.

But she’s still trying.

“Ms. Arrignis is correct.” Dandy agrees with muted frustration as she struggles with Kayenta’s bound hands, trying to bring a set of nailclippers to bear. “This persistent struggle you are so vested in offers nothing but a delay to the conclusion of this process which all of us are currently losing patience for. Hold still and let us clip your nails; it is the last thing we have to do before we can consider this hygiene session complete.”

Kayenta’s only response is to let out a loud, half-growling, half-moaning animal sound, like a large feline expressing displeasure. It’s followed by another fit of thrashing when Dandy tries to clip her nails, splashing the water in the decontamination tub. Both Dandy and I flinch as sudsy water splatters everywhere, though it’s not like it matters, with all three of us half-submerged in the tub. I’m pretty sure Dandy and I have gotten as much of a bath as Kayenta has, what with having to wrestle her into the tub and fight for every second of cleaning her. Currently our clothes are soaked, and I keep having to fling my head to toss my wet bangs out of my eyes.

“This is not going to work.” Dandy says, lowering the nailclippers as Kayenta bares her teeth and growls at her again. “It is impossible to clip her nails when she is thrashing like this. If she thrashes while I am trying to clip them, it may result in accidentally ripping one of her nails out, with how violent she is being.”

“We have to clip her nails. We can’t let her go down to the surface with those.” I say, glaring at her pointed nails. “I don’t even know how she got them to grow like that, but they’re practically claws. If she’s gonna be part of civil society, those need to go; we can’t have her wandering around with knives for fingers.”

“Short of knocking her out, I am at a loss for how we can do this peacefully.” Dandy says, sitting back on Kayenta’s legs. “She needs to hold still for this, and that is the one thing she seems intent on not doing.”

“I’d rather not knock her out. She’s already pissed off as it is, and she’s going to be sulky all of tomorrow if we knock her out tonight.” I say, tightening my grip on Kayenta as she gives another twitch, as if testing my hold. “We need to calm her down.”

“Perhaps we can call Jazel in here and get him to clip her nails?” Dandy suggests. “He seems to have more ability to reason with her than either you or I have.”

“You say that as if he wouldn’t be massively distracted by seeing his fox lady naked.” I grunt as Kayenta tries to wriggle loose from between my legs.

“Jazel did not strike me as the type to leer.” Dandy says, reaching up to wipe away some of the brilliant locks of red hair plastered across her face, and corral them behind her ear once more.

“He’s a man. They can’t help it; their brains are hardwired for it.” I mutter, trying to work back into a sitting position. Kayenta is trying to slouch her way out of my headlock, and she’s dragging me down with her.

Dandy raises an eyebrow. “That’s a remarkably low view of human males, and more grounded in stereotype than in objective fact, Ms. Arrignis.”

“Look, I can’t help it!” I snap. “I have been wrestling this feral, uncivilized bitch for over an hour, we were supposed to have dinner over thirty minutes ago, and I am starving and exhausted! We are so close to being done with this, but she just won’t let us finish. And all of this is just so we can take her shopping tomorrow! We shouldn’t be rewarding this kind of behavior! She probably won’t even appreciate the fact that she’s having an entire new wardrobe provided to her on CURSE’s dime! Do you know how many people would kill for a blank check like that?!”

“Admittedly, I do agree that this sort of behavior should not be rewarded.” Dandy says, folding her arms. “But you also must consider — she has not been part of a community in over four hundred years. It will take some time to rehabilitate and socialize her after that long spent alone.”

“I don’t care!” I go on. “Look at this! Look at her! What the hell does Jazel see in her?!”

Dandy looks down. Kayenta’s slouched enough that her head is right at the water line, and she’s got her mouth open in a snarl. Bath water is seeping into her mouth at the same time that a long, chest-deep growl is coming out of it, resulting in a frothy, sudsy gargling that sounds like a car motor being drowned.

“Are you seeing this?” I demand. “He wants to take this to bed! Can you believe that?!”

Dandy sets one hand on her hip, the other one going up to rub the back of her neck as she adopts a perplexed expression. “While I understand the physical allure, I cannot admit to comprehending any attraction which would take this kind of behavior into account.” she admits.

“Exactly! He’s crazy! He’s batshit insane!” I rant as Kayenta’s gargling continues low-key in the background. “Who in their right mind would find this attractive? She bit him two weeks ago, gave him a hickey the size of a small moon! And he’s still into her!”

“Actually, the biting kink is a very common among a wide variety of cultures.” Dandy says. “It often forms the core of many courtship and mating rituals—”

“Stop dismantling my arguments, Dandy!” I fume. “And help me get her back up. I think she’s trying to drown herself.” Kayenta’s slouched to the point where her mouth is submerged, and her nose is about to go under.

“Sorry. Of course.” Dandy says, reaching down to help pull both of us back upright with her inhuman Cyber strength. As we’re brought back up to shoulder level with the water line, Kayenta coughs and spits out the bath water that had collected in her mouth after the last minute or so of her growl-gargling.

“You are the most infuriating thing, you know that, right?” I say, speaking to Kayenta now. “You’re an uncivilized, violent, ungrateful bitch that’s turned my best friend’s brain into mush. That’s the worst part. Even if he’s an idiot sometimes and lacks social intelligence overall, he deserves so much better than an animal like you!”

She finally goes still at that. “I’m not an animal.” she rasps after a moment.

“Oh really?” I demand. “Did that finally get through to you? Hit a nerve there, did I?”

She growls, but with the hold I’ve got her in, she can’t do anything. “You’re an animal. Forcing me to do things I don’t want to do.”

“OH MY GODS I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU.” I snap at her. “Do you realize how hard we are trying to be nice to you? How hard I am trying to be nice to you? If it weren’t for Jazel, you’d be dead! The settlement would’ve killed you, or the Vaunted would’ve killed you, or Milor or Dandy or hell, I would’ve killed you if it wasn’t for him! It is because of him that you haven’t been ejected out an airlock yet. It is because of him that we are trying to get you cleaned up so you can go into the city so we can do nice things for you like buy you clothes and let you see the galaxy you haven’t been a part of for the last four hundred years. And all you ever do is bully him around and bite him. You are mean and abusive to him when all he’s ever tried to do is help you, to help you live among the rest of us without having to prey on us. Do you even realize how much he likes you, how much he’s interested in you? Or are you just taking advantage of his crush on you?”

Kayenta fidgets in the water, but it’s less a fidgeting where she’s trying to get away, and more a fidgeting where she seems uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t understand what it is to be something like me.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” I snap at her. “But we’re trying to give you a chance to be part of our lives, part of the rest of the galaxy. Now if you don’t want that, fine. If you don’t want to visit the city, just say so. If you don’t want us to get you clothes, and if you don’t want to smell like a human, then fine, just let us know, and we’ll leave you here on the ship, and we won’t force you to take baths anymore. I’m not doing this because I want to do it. I’m doing it because you wanted to come with us. But if you don’t actually want to do that—”

“I just don’t want to be left alone.”

I pause at that. “What?”

“You all left me alone last time you went to the city.” she says quietly. “I was lonely. I didn’t like that.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Looking to Dandy, I can see she’s equally surprised by the subdued admission. After a moment, I slowly start to relax my hold on Kayenta, carefully pulling my arm from around her neck and letting my hand off the back of her head, though I keep my legs wrapped around her waist, just in case. She doesn’t thrash or try to escape, so I think we’re okay.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” I say. “So… you’re saying you missed us?”

“I didn’t like being left alone. It was too quiet.” she says, her eyes cast aside, refusing to make eye contact with either myself or Dandy. “I like knowing that the rest of you are there. Hearing you walk in the halls, talk with each other, hearing you work and spend time with each other. I like knowing you all are there. Being a part of it, sometimes.”

I’m quiet while I absorb that. “You like being a part of our group.” I say. “And you don’t want to be left out, or abandoned. I get that. I think I understand you a little better now.” Reaching up, I set a hand on her shoulder, the skin damp and warm beneath my fingers. “Do you still want to go to the city with us?”

She nods wordlessly.

“Okay.” I say gently. “We can do that. We’ll take you with us. But, in order to do that, we do have to get you cleaned up. The rest of your galaxy isn’t like your forest; sometimes you have to do things to be part of the outside world. Things like stay clean, and make sure you don’t come across as a threat to other people.” Reaching under the suds, I grab her bound hands and lift them above the water. “We would need to clip your nails, so you can’t gouge people with them. Are you willing to do that?”

She hesitates, but after a moment, she again nods without saying anything.

“Okay.” Reaching forward, I start unknotting the silver rope that binds her wrists together. “It shouldn’t take too long. We’ll clip them, then file them down so they’re nice and smooth. After that, we’ll be done, I promise. We can get you dried off and into a set of my clothes for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” she says as Dandy takes one of her hands and starts clipping her nails, bit by bit. They’re so long that she can’t get them all in one go. “You won’t leave me behind in the city, right?”

“What? Good grief, no.” I say. Now that my hands are free, I can use them to start rinsing the suds and shampoo out of Kayenta’s long, dark hair. “After all the trouble we’ve gone through to keep you? You drive me crazy sometimes, but we’re not going to leave you behind. Jazel wouldn’t let us anyway, I think he’d crash the ship before he’d let us leave orbit without you.”

Kayenta twitches every time Dandy clips one of her nails, but she doesn’t resist. “Why do I need clothes? Are the ones I stole from the Vissengardians not good enough?”

“There is nothing wrong with those clothes, persay.” Dandy says. “It’s just that the villagers of Vissengard do not have a modern sense of apparel. We want to make it easier for people to be comfortable around you, and more modern clothes will make you better resemble a normal member of society.”

“Do people on other worlds look different from me?” she asks, turning her head to the side so she doesn’t have to watch Dandy clipping her nails.

“Most people on other worlds are generally humanoid, or at least bipedal.” I say, finishing rinsing out her hair, then poking at one of her nine tails drifting in the water around us. Soaked by water, they’re scraggly and much smaller than they are when they’re dry and fluffed out. “Not a lot of them will look like you and your nine tails, though. Even within Rantecevangian colonies, I think you’re something of a rarity.”

“We will need to visit a clothier that sells apparel for wereckanan, Halfies, and vashaya’rei.” Dandy says, eyeing Kayenta’s tails. “They should be able to custom-tailor clothing to work around her tails. Human outlets won’t have pants, shirts, dresses, or skirts that account for tails.”

“Will Jazel be coming with us?” she asks, looking around at me.

I blink at that. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her use his name. “Yes, he will. He’s not going to wriggle out of this, and besides, he promised to buy me an outfit if I took you shopping for clothes.”

“Alright.” she says, seeming satisfied by that. “When are we going again?”

“Tomorrow. Which means you need to come when we call you, okay?” I say as Dandy starts working on the nails on her other hand. “It’s probably gonna be a long day, and we need to get down to the surface in a timely manner. We’re building your wardrobe from scratch, so there’s going to be a lot of shopping to do.”

“Mhmm!” she agrees happily. “I’ll just follow Jazel so I know when you all are ready.”

“That’ll be a little weird, but that works.” I say. Leaning back in the tub, I rest my arms on the ledge, looking at Dandy and giving a long sigh. She smiles at me, and goes back to clipping Kayenta’s nails.

The ninetailed bitch really isn’t too bad, once you get to know her.

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Sybione: Anamarat District

10/15/12763 8:23am SGT

“It’s like a forest of glass and steel.”

Kayenta’s seated beside me, and she can’t seem to pull her gaze away from the city outside the window. We’re currently riding the magtracks through one of Sybione’s city districts, and this line twists and winds among the many skyscrapers in the city. On the sides of some of the buildings, advertisements and TV channels play out, hawking products or delivering the news.

“Can you see now how you might get lost in a place like this?” I ask her.

“It’s big, but I’d still be able to find you, little feast.” Her need to answer is what finally pulls her august eyes from the window, so she can reach up and trace one of the scars along my cheek. “I put those there for a reason.”

“Why do you call him that?” Lysanne asks from where she’s sitting on the seats across from us, with Dandy beside her. Milor’s a couple benches down from us, glued to his phone like he has been for the last three days.

“It’s just a pet name.” I answer before Kayenta can. The others still don’t know about the full details of my pact with her, and I’d like to keep it that way for now. Lysanne would flip if she knew I was allowing Kayenta to feed on my soul to keep herself satiated. “Why’s Dandy here? I thought she wasn’t allowed to leave the Drift.”

“She wasn’t.” Lysanne answers quickly. “That was one of the CURSE protocols that got stripped out when she was jailbroken.”

“My original programming allows me to depart the ship so long as I complete a full archival backup beforehand.” Dandy explains. “That way, if my frame is destroyed or compromised while I am away from the ship, there is still a functional iteration of me within the Drift’s mainframe. When I return, the two iterations of me will be synchronized back into a single individual.”

“So you’d have memories from two points of view from the same timeframe?” I ask.

“Effectively, yes. But with the entirety of the crew down here, the majority of my recollections aboard the Drift will be logistical and maintenance tasks.” Dandy explains. “Nothing altogether too engaging.”

“Not sure my brain could handle something like that.” Lysanne remarks, pulling out her phone and checking it. “Anybody else notice that Milor’s been glued to the news for the last three days? He’s had a screen up nearly every time I’ve seen him. He didn’t really strike me as a news junkie type.”

“He’s been following the reporting on the Wisconsin riot.” Dandy answers. “I’ve been tracking his media consumption since it spiked three days ago. He’s been reading lots of articles off galactic news sites, all of them linked in some way to the riot.”

“There was a riot?” I ask.

“Over on Wisconsin, I think?” Lysanne says. “Think it was SCORN mob that stormed a Maskling Sanctuary or something.”

“Normally it would not warrant extended coverage, but Songbird was sighted at the Sanctuary, and the Maskling government later released a statement crediting him with saving several of their citizens from the mob.” Dandy says. “It’s created a galaxy-wide uproar. The incident has become extremely politicized, and coverage of the event has blanketed the news for days. Milor has ingested a… considerable portion of it.”

“Why’s it so important to him, though?” Lysanne asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. She leans forward in her seat, calling down the rows to Milor. “Hey Milor, what’s the big deal? Why’re you so interested in the riot?”

Milor’s widebrimmed hat jerks upward as he hears his name; he looks around, then spots Lysanne staring at him. Locking his phone, he tucks it back into his jacket, leaning back on his bench and adopting the air of lax nonchalance he’s been missing lately. “Just wanna keep ahead of current events, is all.” he says, throwing his arms out to either side and resting them on the back of the bench he’s on. “So, did we have anything else planned besides getting Fluffy McFoxtails a couple of outfits that don’t look like they came out of the stone age?”

“We may be able to visit a few landmarks or some other stores if we get done early. We’re planning to have dinner on the surface tonight.” Lysanne says, leaning back in her seat. “It’ll be nice to have someone else making the food for once.”

“That’s all good and well, but what are the boys supposed to do while you three play dress up?” Milor says, reaching up to pull down the brim of his hat a little. “Do we have permission to wander off and find a good bar?”

“It’s not dress-up, and Jazel is staying with us.” Lysanne says firmly. “You can wander off and do whatever you want, so long as you’re still sober by the time we go for dinner.”

Milor makes a tsking sound. “Now that’s no fun.” Standing up, he turns around to size up his reflection in the mirror a little, fluffing the collar of his jacket. “Tell you what. How ‘bout you gals go get the fox dressed up, and I’ll take the witchling on a shopping spree of his own. I’ll see if we can get him away from the jeans and the tshirt blandness. In fact…” He smirks sideways at the rest of us. “Let’s make it a competition. Whoever does a better job of dressing up their kid gets to decide where we eat tonight.”

“Ha. Hahaha.” Lysanne laughs slowly, standing up and folding her arms. “You think you can dress him? Buster, I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to get him to clean up. You think you can do what a woman couldn’t?”

Milor saunters over to stand chest to chest to Lysanne, smirking down at her as he folds his arms. “I know I can, little lady.”

I lean forward on the bench I’m sitting on, glancing between the two. The way both of them are standing, it looks confrontational, but they’re both smiling. I don’t get it. “What’s going on?” I ask to no one in particular. “I feel like something’s happening here, but I don’t know what it is.”

“It appears to be challenge to establish social and hierarchical dominance.” Dandy says, leaning to the side to speak around Lysanne and Milor at me.

“Oh, so like the Spriegler birds.” I say, likewise leaning to the side to speak around them at Dandy. “The ones that compete for mates by building really tall, meticulous nests. Competing for social capital through exhibiting talent or prowess.”

“Precisely.” Dandy agrees. “Except you and Kayenta are the nests in the metaphor.”

I double-take at that. “Wait, what?”

“Pipe down, Jazel. The adults are talking.” Lysanne says, reaching out to plant a finger on my lips. “Alright, Milor. You really want to do this? Let’s settle the terms. We have until four in the afternoon to get our kids dressed. At four thirty, we meet somewhere — not sure where yet, Dandy will figure that out later — to present them to each other. Since you and me are biased, and Dandy’s coming with me, we’ll let Jazel judge Kayenta, and we’ll let Kayenta judge Jazel. Winner gets to pick where we’re eating. Loser gets to pay for it.”

“Excuse me!” I protest, reaching up to move Lysanne’s finger off my mouth. “I’m not a kid. I’m literally a month younger than you, Lysanne.”

“I’m down for that.” Milor says, scratching at the scruff on his cheek as the train dips on the tracks and starts to slow as it nears the station we’re getting off at. “You’ll prolly want to pick up some tissues while you’re shopping, so you can dry your eyes once I win.”

“I wouldn’t worry about tissues. You might want to check your bank account, though. I’m not sure you can afford the places I like to eat.” Lysanne says, turning away from him to hold a hand out to Dandy. “C’mon, Dandy. You can put on your thinking cap, and I’ll put on my ass-kicking boots. We’re both gonna need ‘em.”

“I don’t remember signing on for any of this.” I mutter, looking at Kayenta. She’s missed the entire conversation, glued as she is to the window. Her august eyes are wide, taking in sights she’s never seen before; she has no idea that this shopping trip just turned into a competition. “What if I decide not to—”

“Too late for that, bucko.” Milor says, reaching down and hauling me up by the collar of my shirt. “If you wanted to tap out, should’ve done it before the deal was struck. It’s time to see if we can bring out some of the man that’s hiding in that scrawny little body of yours.”

I scramble to catch my balance, Milor dragging me towards the opening train doors while Lysanne pulls a startled Kayenta up by the shoulders and steers her towards the other set of doors. “Seven and a half hours, Milor! That’s how long you have to make sure you’ve got enough credit in your account to cover dinner!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Yeah yeah.” Milor says, rolling his eyes. “You better have a good lunch, because we’re gonna be eating at a steakhouse tonight!”

“I have a distinct feeling that the purpose of this trip has been corrupted from its original intent.” I mutter as we step out onto the station.

Milor just grins, taking a toothpick out of his jacket and tucking it in the corner of his mouth. “Naw, kid. You Preservers work too much. It’s time to have fun now.” Lacing his fingers together, he pushes them outwards, his fingers cracking. “Let’s geddown to business. It’s time to get fancy.”

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Sybione: Anamarat District - Vashantei Outfitters

11:10am SGT

“We may have our work cut out for us.” Dandy says, putting clothes back on the hangers. I’m busy sorting through what we’ve picked out, trying to find a coherent outfit for Kayenta.

“We can do it, we just need to figure out her look.” I say, running a hand through my hair. “The thing is that she won’t stick with anything that limits her movement. Maybe we should have her try the shorts next? She’s made it clear she’s not fond of pants.”

“I think it’d be possible, but they can’t be denim.” Dandy points out. “She said that she does not like the texture of denim.”

“Shit. I forgot about that.” I say, biting my lip. “Perhaps we can get something in khaki? Or fake denim. I dunno.”

“No.”

Both of us look up. Kayenta’s come out of the dressing room in only the underwear we got her, hopping out of a pair of skinny jeans. She kicks them at us, folding her arms. “These human clothes are all bad and itchy. And I won’t wear your stupid feet coverings.” She kicks a pair of heels at us, glaring as her tails sway behind her.

I blow out a long breath. “Look, Kaya, we’ve got to find you something. We’ve been at this for three hours and you keep turning everything down. This isn’t just a one-time outfit either; we’ve got to get you a few changes of everyday stuff, and we have to get you formal stuff in case we have a function we need to attend. We’ve gotta settle you on something.” Looking around, I tap a finger against my lips. “Let’s go about this another way. If you could wear whatever you wanted right now, what would you wear?”

Kayenta peers over us at the racks of clothes in the store beyond, as if thinking hard about it, then back down at herself. “I’d wear what I’m wearing right now.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Kaya, you can’t wander around wearing underwear.”

“They are soft, and I do not like these clothes you keep throwing at me!”

“Ms. Arrignis, if I may?” Dandy asks, still sorting through the clothes we’ve picked out. “We seem to have preponderance of metropolitan and urban fashions here. Many of them do not reflect a more practical lifestyle. I know we are technically dressing to impress Jazel, but perhaps we should consider Kayenta’s preference first. If you will allow me five minutes, I will see if I can produce a rural or adventure selection which may better appeal to her.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” I concede, tossing a shirt over my shoulder. “Kaya, why don’t you come dig through this pile and find something to put on while we’re waiting for Dandy to put something together for you. You’re getting looks from the other customers.”

Dandy heads off while Kayenta starts poking through the rack of clothes we’d collected. I get up off the floor, starting to put things back onto hangers and hanging them up again; as I’m doing that, Kayenta pulls one loose, wide-necked shirt off the rack and peers at it. “This one has holes in the back. What for?”

I glance over. The shirt in question has two long slits in the back, starting just about the shoulderblades and running to the midback. “That’s an avian shirt. They often have a hole or holes in the back for wings. Avian hybrids usually have wardrobes full of those shirts.”

She holds it up over herself, as if measuring for it, then pulls it on. It hangs loose on her; it’s one or two sizes too large, but it looks comfortable. Spinning around, she tugs at the thin fabric, then smiles. “I like it. I can feel the air on my back. Can I have this one?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sure, if you actually do like it.” I’ve seen stranger things than a fox wearing a bird’s shirt. “Think you can find some bottoms to go with that?”

She paws through the rack, then looks around and wanders towards the shelves behind us with bottoms. “What about these?” she asks, holding something up.

I look around, then rub the bridge of my nose. “…those are men’s cargo shorts. For canid hybrids, based on the way the back is cut.”

“They have pockets!”

“Well, yes. Cargos usually do.” I say, turning back around and hanging up some more of the clothes we’ve already been through. “I wouldn’t get too carried away; Dandy’s going to be back in a few minutes with more clothes for you to try on.”

“Is this strap in the back here supposed to go over my tails?”

I glance back around to see she’s pulled them on, and is indeed fiddling with the beltline strap in the back that is supposed to go over the tail and keep the shorts from falling down. “Well, yes, but—”

“They fit! And they’re not as tight as that other stuff you made me wear.” she says, starting to pull off the shirt and moving towards the discount rack. “These look like the shirts that Jazel wears all the time.”

“Well— yeah—” I fumble to catch the avian shirt she’s taken off and thrown at me. “But you can get t-shirts anywhere. We’re trying to stay away from the pedestrian look—”

“Can I at least try some of them?” she asks, starting to rifle through them. “Oh! These ones have pictures! And some of them have writing!” She pulls one off the rack to show it to me; across the chest, there’s jagged text that reads I’m the girl your mother warned you about.

I have to fight really hard not to say what’s running through my mind.

“Okay yeah, you can try some of them.” I say, coming over taking the shirt from her. “But we’re trying to dress you to impress Jazel. If we don’t blow him out of the water, we’re gonna have to eat wherever Milor wants to eat tonight.”

“I don’t need to impress him.” Kayenta says, pulling another shirt off the rack that looks like it’s supposed to be worn off the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what I wear; he’ll always listen to me.”

I squint at her. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

She hands me the shirt she just pulled off the rack. “Of course I am. I have tasted the hunger in his soul; I know he longs for me. He tries to hide it, but he cannot.” She grins askance at me. “I smell it on him sometimes. Humans and their pheromones are always so transparent.”

“I… did not need to know that.” I say, squinching my eyes shut as I contend with the mental image that gives me. “So you mean to tell me you’re aware of his attraction to you?”

“I know.” she says, pulling another shirt off the rack. “It makes him easy to control. He follows like a newborn — blindly and harmlessly, stumbling through courtship like a kitten that hasn’t learned to walk yet. It’s cute.”

Her diagnosis of Jazel’s social skills raises mixed feelings. She’s not wrong, but at the same time, it feels like she views him more like a toy than an equal. “You realize he risked a lot to protect you and bring you along with us, right?”

Kayenta finishes pulling the shirt on, fluffing her hair out the back. “I would’ve been fine. I came along because I wanted to see if he could deliver on his promise.”

“Just because you’re more powerful than the rest of us doesn’t mean we haven’t been protecting you.” I say, just now noticing the text on the shirt she’s put on; it reads I’m somebody else’s problem… I lean to glance at the back, and sure enough, there’s text there that reads …but I’m about to become yours. “There are organizations that have more power than you, and we’ve been shielding you from them.”

“You are strange. You keep on talking about things and people that have more power than me, but I’ve never seen them.” she says, wandering over to the coats and jackets section. “I think you are just scared because you have no magic of your own.”

I look sharply at her. “What did you say?”

“I can smell it. You confused me for a long time.” she says, starting to leaf through the racks of hoodies. “There is magic on you, but not coming from you. Your bracelet, your cards, other things that you wear — they smell of magic. But not you. I have magic in me, and I can smell magic in Jazel. But I cannot smell it in you.”

I give her a skeptical look. “You can ‘smell’ magic.”

“Yes. Why? Can’t you?”

“Magic is generally not regarded as a having an olfactory presentation.” I remark a little drily, watching as she tries on one of the hoodies. “But you are correct. I’m a magpie.”

“You are a bird?” she says, pulling her arms through the sleeves.

“No. Magpies are people that use borrowed magic.” I explain. “I don’t have the heritage or the genetics for magic. But I study magic, so I can use magical artifacts that I find, pick up, or buy from vendors.”

“Oh, I get it! Because magpies steal and collect things!”

“I don’t steal things. Mostly.” I insist. “I do confiscate artifacts sometimes.”

“But you don’t have your own magic, so you have to get it from others.” Kayenta says, reaching back and pulling the hood on, then gasping. A moment later, she gives a little shriek of delight as her fox ears flop through the gaps in the hood’s design, made specifically for people like her. “It has holes for my ears! Aaaaaah! It’s perfect!” She turns towards me, her silver ears flicking back and forth as if to show off the hoodie’s design. “Look, human! It has holes! Just for me!”

I want to be angry at her, because even now, two months down the line, she’s still calling me ‘human’ instead of using my name. But I can’t bring myself to really actually be angry at her, with how she’s flicking her ears back and forth with an almost childish joy. “You know I do have a name, right? It’s Lysanne.”

“This hood-shirt has holes, Lysanne! Holes for my ears!”

I can’t help chuckling a little, shaking my head. “This is the best thing since sliced bread for you, isn’t it? A hoodie with ear holes for a vulpine.”

“I need more.” she says, turning back to the rack and starting to paw through the hoodies and jackets, looking for ones that may have holes in the hood to accommodate ears for hybrids. “What did you call this shirt? A hood ease?”

“Hoodie. A thick shirt for cool weather, with a hood attached.”

“I need more hoodies.” she declares, pulling another one off the rack and handing it to me. As she does, I notice the sleeve of the hoodie she’s wearing is slipping down, so only her fingers are visible from the cuff.

“I think the one you’re wearing is a couple sizes too large, Kaya.” I point out.

“No, it’s just perfect. It’s like a blanket I can wear.” she says, pulling another hoodie off the rack and handing it to me, then looking down at the cargo shorts she’s wearing. “I need more of these too. None of the clothes you gave me had pockets.”

“Lysanne?”

At the sound of my name, I turn to see Dandy standing behind me, arms full of clothes and giving me a perplexed look. “Oh hey, Dandy. She just started grabbing clothes. I think it’s a lost cause. She’s picking all the same things that Jazel would pick if I took him shopping.”

Dandy leans sideways a little to size up Kayenta’s current apparel. “I suppose there is a certain sort of irony to that.” she remarks. “Should I put these back, then?”

“You already pulled them, so we’ll have her try them out—” I start, then I’m interrupted when a hoodie’s thrown over my head, followed by the shirt Kaya was wearing. Rolling my eyes, I pull them off my head, piling them on my arm, and turn around. “Alright Kaya, what did you find this time?”

She’s wandered to the next rack over, and is currently struggling her way into some sort of beige sweater material. “I don’t know, but it’s soft!” she says, pulling the rest of the shirt on.

It’s a turtleneck that’s got full sleeves but is, for some damnable reason, cut off at the sternum to bare the midriff.

“Oh dear.” Dandy says, which is a bit of an understatement. “That is… a rather bold statement, as far as clothing goes.”

“Oh no no no.” I say quickly, dropping all the clothes I’d been holding and moving towards Kayenta. “Take that abomination off right now. We’re not doing turtlenecks. Those were never in fashion and they never will be.”

“What? No! I like this, it’s soft and I can feel the air on my stomach!”

“I don’t care if it’s fireproof and knitted from a unicorn’s butt hair, you take that off right now! I spent twenty years breaking Jazel of his turtleneck addiction, I’m not going to let him relapse just because you got hooked on them too!”

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Sybione: Anamarat District — Belrourk Crossing

1:57pm SGT

Milor drags a hand down his face. “Alright. I give up.”

I fold my arms, glaring at him. “I told you, I don’t look good in fancy boots!” I kick out my feet, shaking the pointy-toed boots with jangly spurs that he’s shoved me into. “I know what I look good in. And it’s not this!”

“It’s not a problem with the clothes.” Milor says, tapping his lip as he sizes up the suit he’s stuffed me me. “I think it’s problem with all of… this.” He makes a vague, window-wiping motion in my general direction.

“This.” I say, motioning to myself. “As in, literally all of me.”

“Yup. I think that’s where the problem is.”

“You’re an asshole, Milor.”

“I don’t get it, though.” Milor says, starting to pace as he chews on his toothpick. “These are good clothes. We know your body type. We’ve got the right sizes, and we’ve tried everything. Personally I lean towards the frontier look, but we’ve tried business fare, socialite brands, urban trends… I just don’t get it, boss.” He stops pacing, and folds his arms as he turns to size me up critically. “No matter what we put you in, you always manage to make it look uncomfortable and awkward.”

“Because it is uncomfortable and awkward!” I say, throwing my hands up. Currently I’m standing on a dais in the middle of a dressing room in Belrourk Crossing. According to Milor, it’s one of the best clothiers in the city, but for me it’s been nothing but misery for the last five hours. “What’s wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?”

He reaches up, taking his toothpick out of his mouth. “What’s wrong with it? Look, kid, the problem is that you’re never gonna catch a fish if you don’t bait the hook.” He steps forward, poking the toothpick into my chest. “Jeans and a t-shirt don’t bait the hook.”

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean?” I demand, pushing away the hand with the toothpick. “We’re shopping for clothes, not going fishing!”

“You are hopeless.” Milor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The woman, kid! Fluffy McFoxtails! It’s a metaphor. She’s the fish. You’re the hook. You need to bait the hook if you want her to bite!”

I start loosening the tie around my neck. “I don’t need help with that. She bit me two weeks ago.”

Milor rolls his eyes. “Not literally, you knucklehead. If you wanna catch those tails, make ‘em yours, then you need to get her attention. You need to give her a reason to look at you. You gotta clean up, so that when she looks at you, the first thing that goes through her head is ‘I want summa that’.” He punctuates it by poking me in the chest with one of his stubby fingers.

“Why does it matter? I’m already on speaking terms with her.” I say, pulling the tie off and struggling to unbutton the whitecollar shirt. “What’s the point of impressing her when I know she’s already interested in me?”

“What’s the point of— lawd ha’ mercy.” Milor sighs, shaking his head. Reaching in his jacket, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. “Look kid, I’m no relationship counselor, but I’ve had my fair share of flings. Some of them even lasted more than six months. And I’m tellin’ you this right now: just because you think you’ve got the girl locked in doesn’t give you permission to slack off. You’ve gotta put in some effort, impress her every now and then, if you wanna keep ‘er.”

“I am putting in effort!” I protest, pulling off the jacket Milor put me in. “I’m trying hard to find an alternative for her dietary needs. I’m pretty sure she’s more interested in that than she is in me dressing up for her.” I squint at his phone, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen. “And who are you calling?”

“An old friend of mine. I’m going to need his help on this.” Milor says, hitching his hand on his hip. “I can’t dress you. I don’t know who could, but this guy can work miracles, so maybe he can do something for you.” Turning around, Milor shouts out the door of the dressing room and to a passing employee. “Hey, buddy? I saw this room had a holoarray. Is there a docking station or a port I could hook my phone up to so I can conference in a video call? I need to consult a friend that works in fashion.”

“Yeah, should be right over there.” the employee says, pointing to the wall between two mirrors.

“Perfect.” Milor says, walking around the dais to the wall and taking a seat. “It’s still ringing through, I think I’m being transferred along a chain of subspace relays. Anyway kid, like I was saying — you need to put in some effort. I get that you’re doing the good work of trying to figure out some tofu-based soul substitute, and that’s all very good and noble, but that doesn’t charm her. You gotta dress to impress, and you need to give her attention, make her feel special. That’s what’ll show her that you’re worth hanging onto and holding tight at night.” He folds one leg over his other knee as he takes his toothpick out of his mouth. “I mean, that is what you’re goin’ for, right? You want this to be a long-term thing, not a one-and-done, right?”

“Well, I mean yeah, I guess.” I say, struggling out of the whitecollar shirt. “It’s just that she’s different than other girls. Dating her would be like… I don’t know. How do you date someone that doesn’t have a concept of dating? I mean, I don’t know how to date, but she also doesn’t even know what dating is. Where do you start with something like that?”

“Good point.” Milor admits, using his toothpick to scratch his scruff. “The fundamentals should be the same, though. Spending time together, going places together, giving each other little gifts, making memories together. Stick to those and it shouldn’t be too— oh hey!” He pauses, cutting himself off mid-sentence as focus goes to his phone. “Taylor, are you there? Can you hear me? Yeah? It’s me, Dusty. Whaddya mean, ‘who’? You know damn well who this is! Stop snorting twitchleaf for two seconds and get your head on straight, punk. I need your advice for dressing a friend of mine. It’s for a competition and if I lose, I’ll have to pay for our entire group to go eat at a vegan restaurant, so I need you to come through for me here, buddy.”

“Who are you talking to?” I ask, struggling out of the jangly frontier boots he put me in.

Milor makes a motion for me to be quiet while he’s on the phone. “No, no, I get that. You’ve got better things to be doing. But, have you considered: this could be a challenge for you. This kid is trying to date a nine-tailed soul-eating fox hybrid and we need to dress him well enough to convince her that he’s more than just her kibbles ’n bits.”

“I’m what?” I ask incredulously, stepping off the dais to put the boots back in their box, and working the whitecollar shirt back onto its hanger.

Milor covers the bottom of his phone, whispering to me. “You’ve gotta feed his ego. It’s the only way he’ll do anything for free.” Taking his hand off the phone, he returns to the conversation. “I know, right? It’s a good challenge, isn’t it? An informal fashion competition that could get someone killed if we don’t make a compelling case. Dinner’s at stake, in two different senses. You’ll do it? Perfect, I’ll put you on. Give me just a minute to get my phone docked here.”

“Wait, who is this guy?” I demand as Milor hooks up his phone, and the holoarrays in the room turn on. “Is he going to ask me to strip down to my skivvies?”

Before Milor can answer, the holoarrays start casting blue light into the room, building the image of a man in high heels, parachute pants, a puffy winter vest, a tophat, and sunglasses. The moment his image finishes loading in, he strikes a pose. “Taylor McTailor, Fashionista Extraordinaire, at your service.”

I stare for a long moment, then look at Milor. “What the hell is he wearing?”

“Trust me, he knows what he’s doing.” Milor says, moving around to close the door of the dressing room and block my escape. “Taylor, this is Jazel Jaskolka. We need to dress him to appease the ancient soul-stealing monster girl.”

“So I heard.” Taylor’s hologram says, reaching up to whip off the sunglasses, revealing a second pair of reading glasses behind them. “A bit on the skinny side, I see. But that won’t stop me. I’ve dressed scarecrows before. Some of them even won after taking their turn on the Talingrad Fashion Circuit.”

I glance down at myself. “Scarecrow? Excuse you! This is— I am fit and lean, thank you very much!”

“Fit and lean is Songbird. I would know, I dressed him a month or two ago.” Taylor’s hologram says, posing again and looking off into the distance. “Strong, limber, yet supple and soft to the touch…” He places the back of a hand to his forehead. “It gave me shivers. Such an economy of form! Such raw, predatorial efficiency! Sculpted by the GODS, I DARESAY!”

I slowly start backing away from the hologram. Even though this guy is probably four or five systems over, he’s intense enough that it feels like he’s here in the room with us. “Right. So, uhm, I’m just gonna…”

“Oh no you don’t.” Milor says, grabbing me by the shoulders and steering me back onto the dais. “You ain’t wimpin’ out on me. Dude’s like halfway across the galaxy, he can’t hurt you here. Relax, we’re just gonna get his advice on how to dress you.”

“Have you seen what he’s wearing?” I hiss over my shoulder at Milor. “He’s a walking crime against fashion, even I can see that!”

“That’s the irony, or something like that.” Milor mutters. “He can’t dress himself, but he can work wonders for everyone else. Just go with it, okay? Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

“Alright, let me see what I’m working with here.” Taylor’s hologram says, starting to walk around the dais. “Mm. Yes. Indeed. What does this monster look like? That’s our target audience, yes? I need to know who the client is so I know whose tastes I’m catering towards.”

“Just a moment, I’ll send you a picture of her.” Milor says, heading back over to his phone and poking across the screen.

“Wait, why do you have pictures of Kayenta?” I demand from the dais.

“Uh… I was doing… research.” Milor says evasively. “To figure out what type of hybrid she was. So I could… narrow down what vixen guidebooks would be best for your situation. Did you ever read those, by the by?”

I narrow my eyes at Milor. “Not yet.” I have a feeling he’s not being entirely truthful.

“Alright, there’s the picture.” Milor says as a picture of Kayenta poking around a flowerbush comes up on the holoarray, displayed to the side of the dais.

Taylor’s hologram stares at the picture for a long moment. Reaching up, he pulls his glasses down slightly and gives Milor a stern look. “Milor, you and I need to have a talk about the meaning of ‘monster’.”

“She is a monster!” Milor protests, pointing at the picture. “She eats souls!”

“I see a rather charming vixen lass with nine tails and an innocent love of flowers.”

“That’s how she draws you in!” Milor says, folding his arms. “C’mon man, I know I don’t have to tell you about sirens. You know a pretty face nets more prey than an ugly bastard.”

“Yes, I suppose there is a certain truth to that.” Taylor says, stroking his chin. “Very well. Based on this image you’ve given me, I sense that this creature lacks a sense of the modern. A creature caught out of time, hidden from the influence of contemporary culture. She will have no sense of fashion, no appreciation of the subtleties of haute couture. I will have to imagine what it is she will find attractive, and you will have to sell her on it, Dusty.”

“Eh. I think I can do that.” Milor says, working his toothpick around in his mouth.

“Now as to our subject.” Taylor’s hologram turns, and starts stalking around me again, his gaze critical and prying. “You challenge me, Dusty. Look at this gangly awkwardness. Look at that hair. What happened, did a lab experiment explode in your face? And this posture! It’s an affront! What am I to do with this, Dusty? You bring me trash and ask me to spin a treasure out of it?”

“Did you just call me trash?” I demand.

Taylor’s hologram whirls on me, pointing accusingly at me. “Trash! Refuse! Garbage! Your posture, your bearing, your clear and evident lack of grace and sophistication! But you may yet be reclaimed. We will save you from this monster yet.”

I look between Milor and Taylor. “I don’t need to be saved from—”

Taylor’s hologram bounds up onto the dais, placing a single incorporeal finger to my lips. “Shhh now. No more words. Only the glorious future of fashion. Tonight, we shall forge legends to be remembered in the stars.”

I give him a flat glare. “It’s midafternoon.”

“What? Really? Helga, what time is it?” He pauses while waiting for someone out of view to respond. “I thought so. It’s a little past six over here. Oh well, tomato, tomahto. Timezone disregarding, we shall forge a legend to be remembered in the stars! Or at least in the pages of Fashion Weekly. Helga, quickly! I need the Belrourk Crossing catalogue. The complete inventory listing. We have much work to do, and only two hours to do it in.”

With that, Taylor’s hologram steps off the dais, and I look to Milor. “Do I really have to…?” I start to ask.

Milor just points to the picture of Kayenta still hovering off to the side of the dais. “Eyes on the prize, kid. Eyes on the prize.”

I let out a long sigh. “Okay, fine.” I concede. “Let’s get this over with.”

Encyclopedia Galactica

Twitchleaf

Originally native to Rantecevang, twitchleaf has since spread across the galaxy in tandem with the Rantecevang Diaspora. Its name derives from the effect that it has on those that ingest the leaves of the plant, which produce moderate concentrations of natural stimulants. While the effects of twitchleaf are generally mild, the plant and its derived products are considered drugs due to their potential for addiction, and as such, twitchleaf is considered an illicit substance in some systems.

The original use of twitchleaf, as conceived in ancient Rantecevang, was as a slightly stronger stimulant than coffee. The leaves were typically brewed as a tea that was described as being sharp and zingy, and prompted the body into a state of agitation that resulted in alertness and restlessness. Consumption of twitchleaf tea was most common among soldiers on nightwatch, and for people that needed help waking up in the morning; however, commercial cultivation of the plant helped lower its price point and introduced it to a larger portion of the population.

Expansion of the herb’s use came with experimentation, which resulted in the emergence of smoked twitchleaf. The herb became a common element in leafrolls, or the Rantecevang equivalent of a cigarette; while the effect of smoked twitchleaf was less potent than twitchleaf tea, it was observed that respiratory intake had a much faster time to effect than oral ingestion. Smoking a twitchleaf cigarette for a quick ‘hit’ was known to help wake up those that were sleepy and tired, and saw wide adoption among portions of the population that worked long or labor-intensive jobs. Use of twitchleaf cigarettes fell off when the health effects of smoking were discovered and proved, though the habit was never fully eradicated among the population and still exists in a diminished form to this day.

The arrival of the modern era brought the most refined form of twitchleaf, wherein the leaves of the plant are dried, ground up, and refined into a powder that concentrates the stimulants found within the leaf. This variation is typically snorted (nasal ingestion) and provides a much sharper effect than twitchleaf tea or cigarettes, with an almost instant time to effect and accompanied with a ‘rush’ or a ‘buzz’ that one cannot get from the tea or cigarettes. The stimulating effect with this variation is also much stronger, but wears off more quickly than the other two variations. While twitchleaf tea is legal in practically every system and twitchleaf cigarettes are legal in some systems, refined twitchleaf powder is classified as a controlled substance by the Galactic Health Organization, and possession, use, or distribution are legal offenses in all Colloquium member nations.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Sybione: Anamarat District — Rayne Square

4:34pm SGT

“Alright, hold still for just a bit longer. We’re almost done.”

Kayenta remains still, her silver ears twitching ever so slightly as I tuck a loop of narrow ribbon into the hair behind her ear, doing my best to hide it. It’s tied to the stem of a hibiscus — Dandy had the brilliant idea of decorating Kayenta’s ears, so we bought a couple at a flower shop, cut some ribbon, and tied the ribbons into loops we could fit around Kayenta’s ears, with the hibiscus flowers knotted up in the ribbon.

“There we go.” Dandy says from Kayenta’s other side, sitting back on her heels. “I must say, you do look quite delightful, Kayenta.”

I finish tucking the ribbon under Kayenta’s hair on the other side, so it just looks like it’s the hibiscus hanging off her large silver fox ear. “Alright, you should be good to go.” I say, sitting back on the grass and pulling out my phone and going to the camera. “Go ahead and smile for me — I’ll take a picture so you can see what you look like.”

She gives a grin that crinkles up her eyes at the corners, and taking the picture, I flip the phone around to show it to her. She leans in, staring at it and poking at the screen. “”Will Jazel like it?”

“He’s a bit oblivious, but I think even this should catch his attention.” I say, reaching up to take a lock of her hair. It’s kind of everywhere at the moment. “He and Milor are late; they should’ve been here thirty minutes ago. Would you like me to braid your hair while we’re waiting? You’ve got a lot of it, so braiding will help keep some of it out of the way.”

She bobs her head, folding her legs and sitting up straight. I maneuver around to sit behind her on the slant of the small hill we’re on, combing my fingers through her hair to make sure it’s all straightened out first. At the moment we’re sitting in Rayne Square; it’s a plaza in the middle of the city with a fountain and a greenspace in the center, with cultivated flowerbeds and walkways leading up to the fountain at the top of the little grassy mound in the greenspace. Currently we’re sitting on one of the sides of that grassy knoll, all our bags with Kayenta’s clothes sitting not far from us.

“Milor just texted me.” Dandy says, checking a message streaming over the fabric of her sleeve. “He said that he and Jazel are on their way. They missed one of the trains and had to wait for the next one.”

“Yeah, sure they did.” I say, rolling my eyes as I start braiding Kayenta’s hair. “He was probably pushing the time limit to try and fancy Jazel up last-minute.”

“Is Jazel going to be dressed up to?” Kayenta asks, turning her head.

“Hey hey, don’t move.” I say, struggling to keep a hold on the strands I’d started braiding. “I’ve gotta start over now. Keep looking forward. And yeah, Milor was supposed to dress Jazel up. We’ll see if he did any good.”

“At least the weather is nice.” Dandy says, leaning back on her hands and closing her eyes. “I’m glad we visited a district where it was summer. I think it’s winter over in the Praelion district, due to the planet’s axial tilt.”

“Would you like me to braid your hair once I’m done with Kaya’s, Dandy?” I ask.

Dandy’s eyes snap open, a faint, electric-blue hue rising to her cheeks. “Pardon? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

I smile. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything better to do until the boys get back.”

“Lysanne?” Kayenta asks suddenly. “What is Jazel?”

The abrupt question catches me off guard, more so when I can’t read her face from behind. “…Jazel? As in, what species he is? Or something else?” I mean, the question’s kinda broad and open to interpretation.

“He looks human, but he has had many lives. More than other humans do. And I’ve heard you and others call him a witch.” she says, her ears flicking. “I do not think he is human.”

I slowly start braiding her hair again. “…fair enough. I’d never really thought about it that way. Dandy, do you know — are Aurescurans human? Most of them look human…”

“Physiologically speaking, yes. They are, by all relevant biological metrics, essentially human.” Dandy says, pushing off her hands. “Phylogenetically speaking, most scientific organizations that deal in evolution and genetics would consider them a separate clade on the human evolutionary tree, due to their heritage and overwhelming predisposition to arcane ability.”

I slow down a little in braiding Kayenta’s hair. “I’m not sure whether that’s a yes or a no, Dandy.”

“Biologically, they are mostly human, and physically indistinguishable from humans. Phylogenetically, they are not. It would be more accurate to refer them as a type of human, in the same way that a lion and a tiger are both felines, but are distinct from each other.” Dandy explains.

“So it’d be better just to call him an Aurescuran, then.” I conclude.

“Assuming your target audience is familiar with the fact that most Aurescurans are a human subtype, then yes.”

“My target audience is having her hair braided right now.” I say, shifting a little on the grass. “So to answer your question, Kaya, yes — Jazel is Aurescuran, which is a type of human.”

“But he’s not a witch, right?” she asks, her ears flicking. “Witches have to be women.”

“Sort of.” I explain, idly studying some of the food carts and stall vendors that are scattered across the square. “Jazel is a witchling. Aurescuran witch covens are composed of women, but each witch coven is supposed to have a single witchling — a male witch that is capable of learning witch magic, culture, and traditions. In the coven that he was raised in, Jazel was that witchling.”

“So he knows witch magic?” Kayenta says.

“Aurescuran witch magic, yes.” I confirm. “You might see him use it every now and then, when we’re working on an assignments, but otherwise he doesn’t use it much.”

Kayenta’s quiet for a bit, as if she was mulling that over. “So there’s only one witchling in each coven?”

“Yes. If there are two witchlings, one is sent away to a coven that doesn’t have a witchling, or the coven must split in half.” I explain. “Witchlings usually stay in the coven their entire lives. If they get married, then they are considered witch-lords, and if they have any children, usually the firstborn male becomes the coven’s new witchling.”

“So Jazel is special.” Kayenta concludes, her tails idly twitching and wagging back and forth, some of them draping over my lap. “Why did he leave his coven?”

“He didn’t want to stay in the coven his entire life, stuck on the same planet.” I say, whistling to Dandy to pass me the ribbon. “He wanted to get off his homeworld, go out and see the galaxy. See new places and new creatures and explore.”

“And they let him go?”

“In the past, they may have pushed harder to keep him.” I say, reaching up with one hand to catch the roll of ribbon that Dandy tosses to me. “But modern witches and covens are more relaxed about their traditions. They’re just that: traditions, no longer a way of life. Not something you’re required to follow.”

“Why does a coven need a witchling?” Kayenta asks after moment. “I’ve never heard of a witch coven that accepts men.”

“For Aurescuran witches, it’s their way of honoring the first Witchling, the creature that saved all of Aurescura from destruction.” Snipping a length of ribbon off the roll, I start to tie it into a bow at the end of Kayenta’s braid. “You should ask Jazel about his homeworld sometime. He can sing you the story of Aurescura.”

Kayenta turns and looks at me. “He can sing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Dandy murmurs, putting away the ribbon and the scissors.

I smirk a little, and finish tying off the bow on the end of Kayenta’s braid. “Alright, Kayenta, you’re good to go.” Looking around the square again, I size up the abnormal number of children and families here. “Is something happening today? I didn’t know it was a holiday here.”

“I can smell cinnamon and coals!” Kayenta says, straightening up suddenly, her nose raised towards the sky. “They’re here!”

“Are they?” I say, looking around. It’s hard to tell with as many people as are here in the square. Standing up, I shade my eyes and look across the square; it takes me a moment, but I can spot Milor’s wide-brimmed hat making its way across the square, with Jazel’s wild head of brown hair beside it. Raising my arm, I wave to them to let them know where we are.

Milor raises an arm in response, waving it back to us, and the two of them start moving in our direction. Pretty soon they’ve broken free of the milling pedestrians in the square, joining us on the side of the knoll; Jazel’s wearing something that looks like a simple black mantle that goes down to his waist, with a voluminous, bright red scarf piled around his shoulders. Underneath all that, it looks like he’s got his usual jeans and t-shirt on. “What in the world is this, Milor? What’s Jazel wearing?”

“He’s a witchling, so we dressed him up like a witch.” Milor declares proudly. “What about her? I thought you were gonna dress her up, not throw her in a hoodie and boy shorts and call it a day.”

I turn to look at Kayenta. A nine-tailed girl in cargo shorts, a camisole, and a hoodie; she looks like you could’ve pulled her from any college campus across the galaxy. “Well, we tried. She decided she wanted to dress herself, though, and this is what she picked up.”

“Can’t win for losing with these two, can ya?” Milor says, taking a toothpick out of his jacket and putting it in his mouth. He gives Jazel a hearty slap on the back, knocking him forward. “Go on, kid, shake a tailfeather for your fox.”

“Shake a what?” he demands, looking back at Milor, then stumbling in place when Kayenta gets right up on him, looking him over and sniffing at him. “Oh! Oh hey, Kaya. You look good.”

“What is this?” she asks, lifting the hem of his mantle and looking under it. “Why are you wearing a blanket? Is this the tradition here?”

“Uh…” Jazel’s got a blank look as Kayenta circles him, exploring under his mantle all the way around. “I don’t know, honestly. I just wore what they told me to wear.”

“You look like a witch! A cute little witch.” she declares, straightening up and rubbing her cheek against his. “My little witchling.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jazel as flustered as he is now. “Looka that, Dandy. Jazel’s turned the same color as your hair.” I say, smirking into my knuckles.

“A hyperbolic observation, but a valid observation nonetheless.” Dandy says, coming to a stop beside me. “I assume he is not accustomed to this level of physical contact.”

“C’mon man, say somethin’.” Milor says, reaching up to flick the back of Jazel’s head. “Don’t leave her hangin’. Tell her how good she looks.”

Jazel flinches at that, looking back to Kayenta now that she’s backed off him a little. She flicks her ears, easily drawing his attention to the flowers looped around them. “Oh… I like the flowers in your hair, by the way.”

Milor sighs and rolls his eyes. “I give up. You win, girls. Where are we eating tonight?”

“Oh look! They have dancing!” Kayenta says, her ears straightening and tilting to follow the music, looking over to a part of the square where some of the locals are dancing to a modernized folk tune. Grabbing Jazel’s wrist, she starts tugging him in that direction. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“B-but I don’t know to dance!” Jazel stutters.

“It’s okay, I can teach you!” she insists, tails lashing with excitement as she pulls him along. “I watched the villagers for four hundred years, I know lots of dances. I’ll teach them to you!”

Though Jazel’s clearly doubtful about his ability to pick up new dances on the turn of a dime, he lets her pull him along anyway. Crossing the grass to join us, Milor folds his arms as we watch the two pause on the edge of the dancing area, with Kayenta watching the dancers for a bit before turning to Jazel, taking his arms and raising them up into position.

“Y’know, that’s a lot different from the sulky, leery fox that’s been skulking around the ship for the last two months.” Milor remarks. “Watchin’ her right now, you almost forget she needs to eat souls to survive. She looks happy.”

“Yeah, she does.” I agree as Kayenta starts walking Jazel through the steps, taking the lead position so he can follow. “I like seeing her like this. She’s a lot more fun to be around when she’s not staring at you like she’s thinking about giving you the kiss of death.”

“You think the kid’s really gonna find a cure for her?” Milor asks, chewing on his toothpick as Kayenta spins Jazel around, his mantle flaring out and his scarf flying in an arc around him before she pulls him back in.

“Can you cure something that isn’t a disease?” I say, answering his question with another question. “She needs to eat souls just like felines need to eat meat and bovines need to eat vegetation. That’s how she’s designed; it’s not something she has control over.  Jazel can try, but I don’t think he’ll succeed.”

“So what are we gonna do when she gets hungry again?” Milor asks, looking down at me. “And who’s gonna tell the kid he’s trying the impossible?”

“We’ve already told him.” Dandy says. “He has elicited to pursue the project anyway.”

Milor hooks his thumbs through the beltloops on his jeans. “Y’know you’re settin’ him up for failure, right? It ain’t nice to let him do that to himself.”

“You never know.” I answer folding my arms. “The impossible always seems impossible until someone does it. And if he fails… some lessons have to be learned the hard way. That’s part of living and maturing — learning by experience and failure.” I glance at Milor. “Trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do. I’ve talked with him a lot about this, but I haven’t been able to talk him out of it. I’ve come to accept that this is a lesson he’ll just have to learn on his own, even through I know how much it’ll hurt him.”

Milor puffs out a breath. “Fair. Ain’t much you can do when someone’s made up their mind. I don’t envy him the end of this road, though.”

“Many say it’s not the destination that matters, but the journey.” Dandy says, watching as Kayenta shows Jazel where to place his feet, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him through the steps. “Most organisms eventually perish. What matters is not the end state, but the events that transpired along the way there.”

“I never said he was gonna die.” Milor says, rolling his eyes. “Just that he wasn’t gonna succeed, and that’s gonna be a tough break when it hits.”

“It is.” I agree. “But for now, he’s enjoying himself, and that’s worth something. You wouldn’t have caught me admitting it, but they’re cute together.”

“I suppose they are.” Milor says, and for a moment, all three of us just watch Kayenta and Jazel stumble through the dance. Kayenta talking him through it, and Jazel doing his best to correct and follow her lead.

I didn’t know how all this would end, but seeing the way Jazel looked at Kayenta as she walked him through the steps of dancing…

Even if he failed in the end, the path there would be worth it.