Hawk's Journey

[Closetmonster]

Prologue:

Havershall paced back and forth, back and forth, across the littered floor. It was a small room in a drafty tower so it took a great deal of turns to get any real pacing done. Still, he gave it his all, muttering into his beard at each turn and in between. His toes squeaked against the worn floorboards, leather to oiled wood, speaking out an addendum to his agitation here or there.

Against the wall stood a granite block which could or could not have originally had the face of a man carved on it. If it were a man, it was lumpish and difficult to discern. What could have been eyes were closed and a nose was nothing more than a button of rock. There appeared to be no mouth at all, the chin was nonexistent, but it did, if not a face, have a definite body. And like most rock, the body was not moving.

The rock sat within a recess of the room’s wall. It was tied in place, or rather, hemmed in by a lattice of leather thongs tied off to bent nails all about the recess, holding it there and keeping it from falling out. Nothing adorned the hollow it took up. The stone sat silent and watched nothing through closed eyes. It had been there for a long time. For far longer than Havershall had had his room in this, the king’s tower, really.

Havershall glared at it, as if that might have made it do something other than sit there. His glare could not last, however, for he was forced to turn once again, as he hit the end of the room’s inner sanctum and had to spin on heel to go away from the stone figure. Then again, it was not but two steps before he was allowed to turn and glare upon it once more.

" - not even caring, was it?" Havershall continued grumbling. "As if it were nothing. You, of course, wouldn’t say a word now, would you? Dumb beast. It was not your problem after all. It’s not as if we’d gone out of our way to make such things not happen. But it was nigh on twenty five years ago, Scarun. Twenty five years!"

He paused and rubbed his chin.

"It was twenty five years. I think you’ve slept longer than that, haven’t you? No reason for any of you all to think of it. To even care. Bloody regencies and their bloody rules. This king or that, what does it matter, really? Except to you all. I’d hoped everyone slept. Why in hells couldn’t you have slept past my time, hmm?"

He spat on the ground beside the stone, wary of getting any spittle on it. The stone did not react and Havershall pointed a weary, grey finger at it. "You… piece of… earth!" He croaked. "Why must you make such a mess of things?"

But then, of course - the mess had truly been made. There wasn’t anything anyone could do about that. The fall out had to be dealt with at this point.

He couldn’t be blamed really for the manner in which it had come about. There hadn’t been any asking for his input. Before he’d known it, the Rules had changed and the words had too. Of course, that hadn’t been much good for the kingdom. The king, poor boy, had scrambled about, scrounging for his best knights, his not so best knights, and his least of the least knights.

Last Haversham had heard was that a great deal of riders and walkers and using-cane’ers had left in their scrapped tin armor in search of this thrice damned "Dove."

The upshot of the whole deal; the complete disregard of the Fates, the turning about of the Prophecy, as well as the meddling of Scarun’s folk (damned stupid creatures) - was simply that the king’s reign, the country, the crown, and the very peace which the kingdom depended upon, would be no more come the next Spring.

"Balderdash.." Haversham growled as he circle-paced the small room. He paused once more, glared balefully at the small statue, then spit once again on the wooden planking before taking up his incessant pacing once more.

In the kingdom’s capital city of Gyrii, however, there was a decided lack of concern. A year. So much could happen in a year. If anyone was worried, it was the present king. But kings could be replaced as well - trade and travel continued relatively unconcerned.

The king of Gyrii, upon Haversham’s direction, had sent out parties in all directions of the compass to find this woman. It wouldn’t have really bothered him either, that she had to be retrieved, that he had to marry her to save his crown, that she may or may not be happy about these facts - except no one seemed to know where she might have been found. This accounted for the myriad points of the compass.

Not realizing how drastically things would change over the course of the next year, how close this land was to come to entire destruction, how the balance of powers in the world were tipping - the kingdom went blissfully along.

No one took note of the solitary knight on his stolid midnight colored mount as he left the city heading in the direction of the Dragon Peaks and the oracle who lived there.

^__^ end prologue ^__^

The miners clustered in the great shaft elevators at shift close, and though the byproduct of what they mined scented the necks of some of the upper levels, the very men themselves, smelled a good deal of what had been been rotten eggs when men and women were still on the long-gone Earth and could eat, then discard eggs. The sulpher scent rose during shift change, filtered down into the lower level schools where children hovered over tablets of light and pressed what answers they could decipher. Schooling was not of tantamount importance when it came to those who would do little more than breed and work away their lives in the depths of Cala Moon.

The schools had Mint Spritzers which went off at four alarms and the scent of Soft Leaved Mint would fill the halls where the children worked. It did little to stave off the sulpher scent of the miners, but it made it almost bearable. The children still giggled and held their noses, glancing up at their teachers who were not much more than children themselves.

Perhaps the archaic nature of the lower levels led to the lack of age, for most of the teachers were between the ages of sixteen and twenty two, almost all of whom were girls. Men, with their greater muscle mass and their lack of fertility issues made better miners. The girls, when they grew out of the fifth year of school, worked quietly in factories which made some of the simpler plastics, scents, and luxuries of the upper levels. Middle levels of the Great City held the gardens and it was there the upper leveled educations led to growing and tending crops. One did not come to a scientific knowledge outside of a particular field required of the City until one was in the upper three tiers where, untouched by all of those in the lower one hundred sixty five levels, the intelligence guided with an iron hand, the populace into safety.

Horace Chillen mined the lower regions with a dilligence which gave him cause to wear the White Hat. He had his own crew, his own drill which he oiled and cared for. He had Prospects and he wanted the older teacher girl, Krista, to recognize that. The thought of her drove him to get an extra star on his hat and he felt it was an accomplishment worthy of breaking into a class of children, even smelling as he no doubt did.

He cleared his throat and held the hat between his hands. His eyes swept the room and the children who stared at him from behind their virtuo-desks, their small fingers over their mouths and noses. Across the room, on a pale, sunflower yellow pillow, Krista's pet lounged. Horace thought such maternal instincts over something as unnecessary as a pet (only the upper and middle types really needed such foolish things) a good sign of her being a breeder he could have at his side when he had such Prospects.

He held the hat in his hands, mindful of decorum even that late into their courtship, and fingered the second silver star with a wide grin. He said nothing, mindful of her lesson, for he had no desire to take her from her tasks, just as he would not take her from her mothering duties after they'd had their first. Then again, he had to finish convincing her – it was only a matter of time.

[MidnaPhobia]

“Things are… the way things are. Sometimes; one does not agree with such ways. However, there is often little one can do on their own to change things.” Pausing slightly, Krista looked down at Evie, lounging contently on her pillow. The creature, sensing eyes upon her, roused from sleep and looked up at Krista and made a soft, high pitched whistling noise, causing the girl to smile softly. The children did seem to love the little animal, and so did she. She especially loved the intelligence in those steely eyes, often gazing back at her with answers she was just unable to understand.

It was true, she was not happy with the way things were, something she had been renowned for causing trouble about when she was younger, and still for now. She often got letters of complaints from parents about her ‘teachings’ saying that she should stop ‘filling their children’s heads with rubbish and teach them what they needed to know’. She often wondered when independent thought became something bad, something that needed to be repressed unless it was confirmative. Regardless she continued teaching what she liked, her goal to teach the children to try to think for themselves and to always ask why.

When she heard the knock she looked up from her book, snapping it shut as silence fell. Evie looked up as well, her tail swishing back and forth slightly. “Horace.” She greeted with a warm smile, a friendly and affectionate undertone in her voice. “Children, please open exercise Seventeen A and get into groups of four to complete it. I’ll only be a moment and I’ll be right back.” She walked over to Evie and gently placed a hand on the creature’s head, Evie rubbing up against her affectionately. “Be good.” She whispered softly as she walked out to greet the man.

Taking him outside she shut the door behind her and turned to look at him with a small smirk. “To what do I owe the pleasure Mr. Chillen?” She asked in a light, happy tone. She had a suspicion, and had noticed the hat in his hands as well as the grin on his face. It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was heading, but Krista dreaded the idea of rejecting him... again.

Name: Krista Avalon
Age: 19


Evie: (her little cat thing)

[Closetmonster]

The large man turned red faced at the pretty girl's approach. When she closed the door and left them in the artificially lit corridor between school rooms, he fiddled with his White Hat with its extra star and felt as if maybe he ought to have cleaned up better, first. But then, she was a daughter of a miner, who was the son of a miner. She'd lived with the smell and sight of miners with the rest of them. Their black hands and blue fingernails, the blue rings under their eyes, the way they sometimes vomited when it got to be too much and they'd not taken the requisite amount of oxygen. They lived long enough lives for medicine was expensive but effective. They often pushed things to the very edge of the envelope, each one hoping to survive the next trip down into the center of the moon's gaseous strings.

He still had the ability to make the best of a bad deal and he gave her small grin. "Krista," he began, for he'd said the words before. She hadn't known then, but she'd know now. She was getting older and it wouldn't do her any good to go without a marriage sooner rather than later. "Look, it's been a while, yeah? I mean, last year, you weren't so sure about saying yes, but there's been no one else willing to take you on with your funny business." He leveled with her. She needed to know exactly why he was such a good choice for her. "But me, I got Prospects, Krista. I got a promotion." He lifted the hat and thrust it at her, with a proud smile, much like a child offering a one hundred percent on a spelling test.

He shuffled and finally, recognizing she was different than the other girls, on account of her having Ideas, he went to his knees and looked up at her. She was a tiny thing, but he wasn't all that tall either, just broad. So he smiled up at her in complete certainty. "How's bout now, Krista? Should make a contract with me, so's we can make some kids and get things workin' here. Can't leave this moon of ours to go to poverty without us making things good for everyone."

Outside, unbeknownst to the lower levels, the clicking transmissions which had concerned the upper three tiers began to strengthen in signal as well as grow in intensity. The clicks became strings of slurred sounds, as if one were taking fingers across a chalkboard. Like odd screams with words buried into them, the upper tiers sent out their usual foray ships to head off the now constant but bearable attacks by the others. The moon was a mineral and gas goldmine. No doubt the clickers wanted their own piece of the pie. It wasn't like PremA Corp. was bound to let them, however. Not without the requisite treaty talks.

Third tier frowned as, instead of a response to their momentary squawks they'd sent to each ship, they got a silence from each and every one. Alarm began to raise in those upper tiers. Some men made surreptitious calls to families, entreating wives and children to pack, to prepare. The silence could be just a matter of being on the wrong side of the moon, but that, they supposed, ought to have been remedied rather quickly.

Then, as abruptly as they had begun seven months prior, the transmissions of clicks and screeching, ceased. The silence in the transmission control room was deafening and those there, involuntarily held their breath.

[MidnaPhobia]

Krista gave Horace a slight look, one of knowing and one of angst. She crossed her left arm across her check, just below her bust and rested her right elbow to her left wrist, letting her right jaw rest on her hand as she tilted her head to the left, her hair falling sideways as she did. He was admittedly adorable in the way he acted, if not very expected of the men of this place. And he was right, it wasn't as if she had suitors lining up to mate her. She flinched back slightly as he thrust his hat at her, but allowed that soft smile to settle on her face once more.

“You are right.” She agreed in a soft voice, sounding almost defeated in her tone. “You’re the smart choice, if not my only. But you’re a good man Horace, you have such a great potential... which is why it saddens me that you’re still so closed-minded.” She sank to her knees, so that she was eye level with the man. Reaching out, Krista gently touched Horace’s face, cupping his jaw with both of her soft hands, hands that had never known a proper day’s work in their lives.

“You’re like the rest of them, with your speak of ‘contracts’. I don’t want to have children because it’s what’s ‘expected of me’ or because it ‘makes sense’, Horace.” The girl’s eyes were alive, sparkling with delight as they usually did when she spoke of such things. “I want to be with someone because I love them and because they love me! And for more than just having babies!” She was speaking in soft but excited whispers, because she knew better than to speak such things aloud. She reached out and took his hands, still looking at him excitedly.

“Come on, Horace! You’ve stuck with me this long! Despite all my... ways of thinking. I know it sounds weird but I’ve read that, a long time ago people used to marry for love! Why can’t we be like that? We could have children, and we could teach them to try to find love! We could bring it back!” Taking a few breaths she managed to calm herself enough to stand up and regain her composure. “I’ll make you a deal alright?” She said simply, casing him a playful smile. “Name my favourite colour, and tell me why it is so. Show me that you care about more than just... babies.” She made a face. “And I’ll agree to being with you.”

[Closetmonster]

Horace gave her a limpid look. He wasn't sure why her favorite color meant anything, really. She wanted more than babies and it was just that kind of thinking that made her fascinating to him. It didn't change the fact that they'd have babies, of course, but he thought that due to her Ideas, she would at least keep things interesting. There'd be no reason for their lives to devolve into the silence his own growing up home had had. No - she laughed at him not half so much as with him and he was fairly sure that while she wouldn't be any more content, she'd abide by the contract when he'd managed to get her to sign on the dotted line.

Outside, the silence lingered, lingered. Those in the top three tiers began to scream as those who hoped to escape, began to feel the air they breathed turn against them. The first tier had glass windows, thick panes of space glass, which showed stars out beyond. It was against these that the slender needles entered in through. It was through these that the air shifted. The first tier was the first to set up a cry of pain, fear.

"You know, Krista," Horace laughed, "you always were a funny thing. I remember when you were little. You'd stand on my da's boots and declare they were the only rocks that weren't in the lava. 'Horace!' you'd scream and tell me that I was gotta get on them stones and get out of the lava." Horace stared up at her in adoration. "Been thinking 'bout this from the first, since you were all five turns and I was all eleven turns. Seems only right I ask it right and if you need colors, well, then you'll get colors."

The middle levels slid under almost silently. By then, the air turned against those around them like a cancer. It filled the air with a sour taste, something hateful, hurtful, like fire, but it stole the voices from each of them. It burned them from the inside out.

"Yer favorite color," Horace leaned back on his heel and shoved his thick, meaty palms against his thighs. "That's been the same since you were only knee high, couldn't get you into nothing but the right color for years then. I remember that clear as a bell. Hated drawing things without making birds that color."

The silence of the killer shifted as the killer lost the vitality of the middle levels. Now, the levels began to heave for breath, cough, feel it though confusion, much like rabbits in a cage, was tantamount in all minds. What was wrong with them? Why was it so... so very hard to breathe?

It took longer this time, but the lower leveled folks were accustomed to difficulty. No doubt someone from higher up wanted them to worry. Worry they would not! Like small, fleshy dominoes, they began to topple, too unaware of anything but their lack of breath to know that they were not alone in falling.

"Krista, if I get your color right, you'll contract with me," Horace smiled a face splitting grin. "We know, you an me, how it's been that for just about ever and if all's I gotta do is say it, then, I will." He reached for her hand. "It's blue," he stood, her hand in his, and leaned forward to kiss her.

He coughed instead. With a slight, confused frown on his face, he lifted his hand to his nose and turned to look around them. Then he grunted as he tried to breathe in carefully. Behind them, in the classroom, the children, far more honest with themselves than the adults, began to cough and to cry, as their bodies knew, somehow, that all was not well.

The air turned sour all around them and Horace reached out to say something, but the coughing stopped him. His eyes widened in anger. How dare the upper levels make such a muck of his contract attempt! She was coughing too hard to say anything back, to acknowledge his claim. He gripped her fingers tightly, his body instinctively grasping onto the nearest life.

Somewhere, or rather, somewhen, a man looked at a slender, white haired woman, who gazed up at him. He sat astride a very black horse. With a nod to her, he reached up and drew his helm over his face. The darkness of his cloak swirled mahogany in the breeze which blew from the cave mouth. The horse wore thick, leather plate, molded at the edges of the face plate into horns. The horse snorted and the old woman touched his nostrils and whispered a Word. The horse jumped, but could not go anywhere. He was frozen in space and the knight hollared in sudden fear. Then, the cave wall before them both, burst open into darkness and flashing red lights. He could hear cries of children, wavering and thin, as if they were lost souls. His eyes turned back to the woman.

"Find her, but you may only have one, Sir Hawk," the old woman's quavering voice rose and fell over the sudden windstorm rushing into the dark tunnel ahead of him. He could see bodies on the floor of the tunnel and he wondered at them. "If you take any more than that, even one solitary soul more, you may never find your way home." She raised her hand, then brought it down hard on the flank of the great, black beast. His mount screamed in anger and lashed out with one hoof. The hoof missed the old woman as if she had never been there and the horse leapt forward, into the darkness. The sounds of children crying had already begun to die away and the figure on the massive animal wrapped his dark cloak about him and put heels to sides to encourage the horse forward.

[MidnaPhobia]

From within the classroom Evie sat up suddenly, her ears twitching and her tail flicking quickly as the small red gem on her forehead glowed an ominous red. Krista smiled at Horace, even as he leaned in to kiss her. Despite everything, she didn't have the heart to tell him that he had gotten it wrong. He was right, and he had tried so hard. He may not have the same ideas as her, but he was certainly willing to accept them, unlike anyone else on this rock. Out of everyone here he was no doubt the best match for her.

Evie stood making another of its high-pitched whistling noises as it jumped off the pillow and quickly ran to the door. Krista turned her head as the cat-like creature came running to her, whistling in concern and pawing at her foot. She turned to look back to Horace as he couched and she began feeling this heavy feeling in her lungs, realising that it was getting harder to breathe. “Horace,” she whispered softly. She turned to look back at her classroom. She couldn’t leave the children in there. Looking around frantically Krista jumped to her feet, her fingers still entwined with Horace’s so she was forced to drag him with her, still coughing violently.

Evie turned towards Kirsta and followed her closely, making small noises of fear, her fur standing on ends. Slumping against the wall slightly as she reached it Krista covered her mouth as she reached up and pulled the (fire? Some kind of evacuation alarm) and turned to look back at the classroom as the door opened and hoped the children would be able to get out and to safety. She, however, wasn't sure she could lead them to it. Evie whistled again and Krista leaned down and picked her up, cuddling her close, hugging her tight. She wasn't going to lose her.

They needed to get... somewhere, that was for sure. However the problem was that she didn't know which way to go for cleaner air because she didn't know if this toxic stuff was coming in from the upper or lower levels. Evie looked up at her again, the ruby jewel on her forehead gleaming slightly and she turned her eyes and, somehow, Krista knew she had to follow the creature’s gaze. She made a move to run down the hall, despite everything growing increasingly dark and this heavy thing trailing along behind her. She made it to the end of the hall before she eventually collapsed to her knees, still coughing and trying to take in a full breath.

Her head fell slightly and she took in the soft, clean smell of Evie’s fur before everything went entirely dark and she collapsed.

[Closetmonster]

Martin navigated the tunnels that, with the flashing red lights, seemed to be almost hallways. His mount snorted and lifted his legs high as once or twice they had to walk over bodies. The sounds of screaming died off.

At the end of the hall, a small flash of red, like an eye, caught his attention. He guided his horse through the bowels of hell and not once did the beast falter. But when told to go nearer to the dimmer red, the horse reared and refused. It was likely that they went closer to death, but around them everywhere was death. With a grunt, the knight leapt from the back of his horse.

He landed on something soft and cursed as he felt, more than heard, something crush under his heel. No doubt, the hallways of hell were littered with the bodies of the fallen. He had walked battlefields like this, though he had thought to never do so again.

Leaving his mount behind, he went to where the red gleamed and with confusion, touched it. it was a small cat like creature, with a rounded skull and a swiftly dying light of red in a jewel upon its brow. Underneath the creature, face buried into its side, was a young woman. He knelt and touched her nostrils with the back of his finger. A faint breath fluttered over his finger. He looked about him. All around, the sounds of crying had died. No doubt, each and every soul here was leaving their mortal shell. How was he to know which was the woman he sought?

Unsure, but unable to choose anything else, he lifted the slender body in his arms. He hefted her over his shoulder, then walked back to his mount. Once there, he heaved her body over the fore of his saddle, almost swinging up just after. For a moment, he paused, then glanced back at the weak glow. It seemed wrong to leave even something as simple as an animal in this place. As animals did not have souls, would he be risking not only her life, but his and the life of his kingdom were he to pick up the cat creature?

Unable to keep himself from holding back, he swiftly went to the small creature and slipped it into his cloak. Then, he mounted and turned his steed back the way they had come, to where the cavern mouth gleamed through the great hole in the wall. The horse snorted and, sure of their returning, set up a stumbling trot. The ground was uneven, most likely due to whatever was in their way, but after ducking through an archway, they had the hole before them and with their burdens, they leapt through the hole.

The wind, beat at them, sought to clutch at the girl and steal her from him. He held her to his side, grimaced and tried to keep the cat as well. The group fought against the wind, fought hard, and suddenly, he was rolling, arms around a cat and a girl, on a stoney floor. There was a sound, like of cannon fire, and then silence. He breathed in slowly, then looked about himself. They lay upon a cavern floor, but this was not the cave they had come from. Instead, this one was large, warm, with a half lit entrance to one side where obviously the cave wall had curled about itself to create a natural wind break.

With a grunt, he stood and put the cat creature on the ground. He glanced around for his horse but saw nothing. He winced, recalling the feel of the wind, tearing at the cat, at the girl. Perhaps the winds had, indeed, taken their required toll, leaving him with two spirits, not one extra.

He also, it seemed had become lost.

An hour later, he had a better grasp on things. He'd moved the girl to a pallet which was covered by furs. He'd covered her and set her cat beside her. Both breathed well enough, though neither had woken as he'd shifted them. He started a fire in the center of the cavern, then found that the walls of the cave were filled with small nooks, places where sconces were held which he set flame to and found one or two which still held oil, and packets of clothing, furs, dried foods, and supplies.

He left the cave for a time, went to investigate, but the investigating had only left him shaken, so he returned to the now warm cavern. There, he sat himself down next to the fire. He withdrew a small knife from his belt and with some wood he'd found outside, he began to whittle to bide the time until the girl woke and he could ask her if she where the Dove he sought. He did not wish to think too hard on if he had chosen the wrong woman after all of this.

[MidnaPhobia]

Evie turned her head at the sound of someone approaching. He felt of someone strong and sure, but alien. He was not of this world, clearly. The creature’s ears flattened against her skull and she made a small noise as he picked up Krista and she was left behind. Lying down, as if accepting her death, she let her eyes close and allowed her body to lose its consciousness, even as she was lifted and wind threatened to tear her from her master and he saviour, she slept. Only rising once she felt this strange warmth on her face and something rising and falling steadily beside her.

Turning to look to the side her eyes flickered open and she stood slightly, moving over and gently licking at Krista’s face. The girl groaned softly and shifted before her eyes opened as well and she blinked, instantly cringing away from the harsh light of the... sun? Sitting up in alarm Krista looked around herself fearfully. She had never felt the heat from the sun on her skin before and she instantly took up Evie, holding the creature tightly for comfort as her environment slowly set in around her.

It was... beyond her wildest dreams. There was so much open space... and wind blew against her skin, it was soft... warm. It lacked the smell of any sulphur. Instead it smelt... well like nothing, and so many things at the same time. It smelt like water... kind of, minus the chlorine smell she was so used to. It also smelt like... well like things she wasn't used to. Things she had never seen or had dreamed of. Things that she had only ever even heard about from books, but had just assumed were things of the past, or of another world that she would never get to experience it.

It was then that her eyes fell upon the... rather large man sitting just near her. Krista gasped and recoiled quickly from the man, clutching Evie tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide with fear as she waited for... well she wasn't entirely sure what. If he had wanted to hurt her... then he would have done it already surely? Then... what did he want with her? And how had she even gotten here in the first place? Where on the moon was here anyway? “Um...” Krista swallowed fearfully. What if he couldn’t understand her? “H-hello?”

[Closetmonster]

The man looked up as the cat moved. He watched in the filtered sunlight as the lavender shaded creature woke. He streched carefully, then remained quiet as the cat went and woke up the girl. The girl herself was, in the light of day, not anything he was accustomed to. She wore none of the more voluminous robes of the women in his world, but then, she'd been in a hellish world, had she not? She could not be expected to know.

As she spoke, he frowned. It seemed magical that a woman from that horrible place would know how to speak. He half had expected her to not know a word of sense, yet -

"Miss," he nodded his head, his voice deep. She looked young as she sat up. She could not be more than sixteen. She was well developed for her age, no doubt, but there were no signs of hard living that no doubt would have been true from where he'd gotten her.

He stood, the mahogany cape flaring out behind him as he took a stride to get to her side and crouched there, suddenly. "Are you feeling well?" He smelled of male and horse and outdoors. He hadn't cleaned well, for there was no soap, but those in this world lived clean lives of hard work and quiet. There was not that stink of fear and anxiety which tainted skin of those in cities or as there had been in that place where he'd picked her up.

"Are you hungry?" He looked at them both. The cat stared back at him and the girl looked like she might run. He held out a hand, but remained somewhat contained, not trying to grab her or frighten her over much. "I have not managed to find anything but an apple tree outside, but I can get you some if you'd like."

[MidnaPhobia]

Well, she could understand him. That was at least somewhat a relief. When he stood, however, she flinched back as the cape flared. True, her clothes did similar things in response to her movements, but they were not dark and menacing. When he approached her she moved back again still, especially as he suddenly knelt beside her. Evie turned to look at him, her eyes sharp and narrowing slightly as she felt the apprehension in her master and she made a low growling noise, her fur standing on end once more. It was far from a menacing noise, but the warning in it was clear.

When asked if she was hungry Krista thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. She was a little peckish, but she could wait. This man smelt... different. Compared to everything else he smelt incredibly clean and he looked... well so different. His skin was dark and there was no trace of blue on his skin whatsoever. “I feel fine, thank you.” She said softly as she sat there, eyeing him with fear. “I um... Krista.” She said slowly. “My name is Krista.” She looked down at Evie and petted the soft creature gently.

“If... you don’t mind me asking so... where am I? And... who are you?” Horace... where was Horace? And her students... her parents... only Evie remained of her old life. Old life... it sounded as if she had already given up hope of ever returning there. Then again... what had been there really? Contracts and babies. A life of endless tunnels smells and darkness. Here... here it felt like the world went on forever. And that sky... the sun. Yellow. Her favourite colour had always been yellow, like the sun. The heat it gave off, the warmth. It was such an amazing feeling. She had always dreamed of feeling it caressing her skin one day.