The afternoon was crowded, and the sun beat down on the streets and cobbling below. Dust rose in the noonday sun over the market as flocks of furred people bought, shopped, eyeballed and thieved through the square. Overhead even the birds were quiet in the heating circle of civilization, moving on silent winds through the afternoon. The spring's song was warm today, and people always made it warmer.
As the sun rises, the throng begins to thicken as if the market place were a stew that was thickening in the heat. Shouting becomes louder, more intense and tempers become short. People mix, waving fans and meeting old friends. Strangers pass through, stay and barter just as well, some stranger than most.
Mixes of browns, beiges and blacks seem to be predominate, though brilliant splashes of color in both fur covering and clothing where used, flash through the crowds. Above, they come in all sizes and the sun glimmers on the colors as if he seeks to flare amidst the plainness. A pair of wings, tall above some of the tallest heads, spreads a rainbow through the air as a passing breath of color.
And with that passing color comes a flow of air, a breeze, as if still attached to the wings that swim through the people. Heads turn just slightly, catching at the air then staring at the subject for a moment before averting their eyes for yet another bargain. Air that's like a light breath to the heat that's beginning to oppress the populace of the market.
The white feline attached to those wings looks a combination of self-conscience and distracted. Her eyes flicker towards different unfamiliar objects as she mutters quietly to herself. She notices the circle left around her but does not question it, however, she does not notice the breeze she brings to the market even as it tosses her white mane. She pauses before a booth after a moment."Th'blades, are they named yet?" She asks as she reaches for a silver blade with a moonstone inset. "I do not see th'maker's mark on 'em."The keeper of the market stall sniffs once then reaches to take the blade from her hands. "Of course they aren't. We make the blades, we don't personify them." Being behind the counters, he doesn't notice the breeze either, however, he does notice the lack of customers suddenly.
Melora turns the blade over casually, looking with squinting eyes towards the stone and its hilt inset. "It's not yer job, they don' belong t'ye." Without noticing the hautiness she quickly flips the blade over, missing the outstretched fingers by only margins. "Balanced well, if a bit hilt heavy."The knife-wares man nearly stutters as the silver blade swishes past his fingers, and he finds his hand much closer to his body instinctively. His eyes bob at the cleared space then towards his unusual customer and her wind-tossed mane. "Chrissa'll like that blade. It's mate's better balanced fer a stronger throw. I'll take both pair." With that said, Melora looks up.
Melora purrs quietly at his inactivity. "Now, please." Her fingers reach to her vest pocket and pull a small bag from within. It jingles lightly- seems that Melora's finally figured out currency, in a way. That old bent coin probably isn't among the pouch's contents, though.
The stallkeeper breaks from his stare immediately at the sound of loosened coin. "Twenty per blade." Comes his first phrase. The darker fur of Melora's eyebrows raise just slightly and she tilts her head. "Twenty-three, no more." She replies. This brings a choking sound from the merchant.
Melora looks upward then shakes her head. "Okay, twenty-five per blade, but I won't go any higher. I know there are others who'd take my silver." Silver? Wait.. she just raised the bid! Maybe the concept of currency still evades her.
The merchant bobs his head quickly and mutters, "immediately, Lady." Anyone with a hundred coin.. a hundred silver coin at that, rubbing together to be spent must be a hidden noble. He wraps the blades quickly just as she finishes counting the silver bits from her pouch. She then tucks the blades within her backpack and pads away to the amazement of the neighboring vendors."Hens! Buy beautiful HENS!" "Copper bracers.. ten to the corner!" "Silllver gobLETS! Give something shiny to the one you LOVE." "Alms, Alms for the poor." "Spare a moment, buy a bonnet!" "Breeeadlings! A twisted bread for your twisted head!" "Sooooooouuups and Spoooooooons."
The clatter raising as she passed was enough to dim a djin's lights, but distance was kept. They failed not to notice the strange lady and her silvers. Melora, by contrast, almost seemed not to notice the clatter, even though it set the fur down her back on edge.
Melora weaves her way through a few more strings of crowds then stops, cold. Her eyes harden and narrow as she stands amid the flow of people then her wings begin to shiver slightly and when only the fur on the back of her feline spine was standing, it was enough. Now all her fur stands on end and her claws dig into the street. Oddly enough, the crowd notices the change and makes certain they are out of the way. With the tensing, a blue light flickers around her like a spider's weaving.
The felitaur, for all her size, rears and turns on her leftmost hind leg, a pirouette of size and her forepaws don't get the chance to touch ground again. As her other hind quarter touches, she launches to spread her wings out wide and block the sun.
Melora races the winds as if the spirits themselves were nipping at her heels. Far faster, flickering with shadows and circles, she crosses the sky in a race of blue sparks that she doesn't notice. Blue on white, blue on midnight and blue across rainbow wings, all pushing her through the sky in a frantic pace- towards camp.
For miles around the shooting star fills the sky with faint sparkles as a silver white object crosses the sea of blue. It's hazy, even to the sharpest of eyes, flickering blue and white alternatively. It moves fast through the air then seems to suddenly shift direction and move directly towards an old inactive volcano overlooking the sea. Deliberate in it's motions, as it doesn't just fall towards the volcano, but at a trajectory that would hit the small inhabited section of the island.
Copernicus starts from his quiet reverie and quickly checks with the islands monitoring station, but as he does, he senses Melora's strong feelings of panic, and even some anguish. He tells his crew to stand down and gets to his feet, watching the incoming shooting star with worry on his face.
The falling star slows just as it's almost on top of a particular dwelling in the inhabitation- her own home. She lands running, paws churning the packed dirt before the entrance and her own wings barely flinging against her sides as she rushes towards the back rooms. Silver sparks flick off the floor and ceilings, then echo brilliantly off any metal or mechanical objects of the room.
Copernicus takes wing and, within moments, is rushing inside his island home, having heard Melora's noisy entrance. And noisy in more ways than just sound. He can almost taste the chaos energy in the air, and notes maybe not all of his abilities were destroyed after all, "Melora? Kecharra, what's wrong?"
Melora flutters, "I KNEW it. There ain't annaway of gettin' 'round it. It won' do, nae..." for a moment babbling wildly as her eyes roll white. She snaps into moving again and heads straight for the nursery where the children sleep.
Copernicus's ears go back slightly, momentarily wondering what has gotten Melora into such a state, but races off after her.
Melora growls as she hears voices and movement behind her. Both daggers come free of sheaths tied at her waist and only half the throw begins as she realizes who walked through the entry way. She holds then drops the knives to the floor with a gasp. Sparks run along the blades and up the walls beside her, unnoticed by Melora.
Copernicus notices, however, and puts out his hands, paws up, claws sheathed, "Melora, kecharra, it's me, Copernicus. What's wrong beloved?"
Melora almost shrills, "we're leavin. Now. Ferever, everaone." Her tail bristles out behind her, fwipping back and forth with anxiety that can almost be scented. The children are in the hammock like beds behind her,surely awake by this noise.
Tycho's ears are showing, as he remains quiet, somehow knowing something is wrong.
Copernicus purrs, "Why do we need to leave Melora? What's wrong?"
Chrissa's ears twitch, then flatten against her head. She peers at Melora uncomprehendingly.
Copernicus pads forward slowly, hoping to calm her with an embrace, if she'll let him.
Melora grasps her daggers from the floor. Another flicker of brilliant blue erupts from her touch and she slides them into their sheaths at her waist. "Copernicus, the four have foun' Haven. They're comin, an this was prolly th'only warnin I git."
Copernicus ears flick back. The four? The legendarily infamous four beings who unleashed a horrible magical/nuclear holocaust that devastated her world? Surely they're dead by now? But, he's seen so many odd things, he can't help but doubt, "Why? What makes you think they are coming here?"
Melora turns and starts her way straight towards Chrissa's hammock. "Not coming. ARE here, on Haven. I was just in the market." She doesn't seem to make much sense, her words are rushed as she panics on the inside.
Copernicus pads over, trying futilely to calm Melora, "How do you know they ARE here? Calm down kecharra, you're scaring the kits." . o O (And me.)
Chrissa peers at Melora over the edge of her hammock. She blinks nervously, silently watching.
Melora says, "Sharra take me, I saw one! He was buyin' a copper pot."
Tycho peeks up at his mother, ears back as he can scent her fear and anxiety.
Copernicus calms a bit, figuring that most world destroying megalomaniacs don't buy copper pots. Or, at least he doesn't think they would. "How do you know it's one of the four?"
Tycho backs away from Melora. The blue flickers flashing around her like lightening, and her crazed look is a bit much for the yearling kit.
Melora says, "Who else wou' look like I used ta.. in size, shape 'n colorin wi'out the wings?" She turns her head and her eyes focus on Coper. "D'ye know where Ceres an the family are?""
Melora almost snarls and her ears flick back the rest of the way. "I *know* that, but this one's *scent* was right." She turns again and forces her ears upwards. She tries to scoop Chrissa out of the hammock and frowns. "When'd ye git so big, Chrissa?"
Copernicus blinks, "Then let's go find them. Melora, from what I've learned from your stories of your history, the four used terrible weapons to destroy your planet. You can't carry those in your pocket, so if it IS one of the four, we can stop them."
Copernicus blinks and thinks again, "Er...how do you know the scent was right? The four left your world generations ago?"
Chrissa shuffles a footpaw nervously, watching Melora and Copernicus. She mewls anxiously, peering up into Melora's eyes.
Melora turns her fear into a fearful purr as she says, "Chrissa love, we're gonna go somewhere good.. it's okay."
Chrissa nods uncertainly, and holds her arms up towards Melora, asking to be lifted...
Tycho mews, "Dad? Mommie's scarin me!"
Melora tries again, slipping one arm beneath Chrissa's arms and the other beneath her feline part. A bit of a grunt and a lift- felitaurs at any age are big children to have... growing fast too.
Copernicus sighs, "Melora. How do you know that the *scent* was right too?"
Melora turns with Chrissa in her arms, "I'm a hunter. Everaone smells jus a bit different. This one smelled .. verra feline o'course, an odd. But over th'odd smell was somethin that don't change." Her ears flick back again and she pauses, shaking, "Moonblossoms."
Chrissa presses close to Melora, but doesn't relax.. The scent of Melora's worry making her even more nervous. She remains silent, not understanding enough of the situation...
Copernicus frowns, "The odd blossoms you make that drink with? That is odd, but so many things get ported to this world, maybe some of the moonblossoms got transported here too. Either way, I can't leave this world without trying to stop them. You have their scent, we can track them and stop them, if they are trying to destroy us."
Melora pulls Chrissa up as she slips a little, snugging her almost a little too close. Feathers seem to go awry beneath her arms. "It's too late. The legends say th'return is t'bring death. They hunt *ME*. T'cha, Coper, it's th'revenge of the ancients fer livin like this. I leave, they will." Her ears flick back again. So much for thinking she'd grown out of her older beliefs.
Copernicus growls slightly, and grabs Melora by the arms and shakes her, "Enough! I know our way of life is odd to you, and you've always been free to stay outdoors, but there is nothing about living inside here, on a planet far from yours, that is wrong. I won't let anyone hurt my family, and if one of the four is here, he'll find we have weapons capable of stopping them. But tell me, WHY would one of the four be buying a copper pot? That doesn't make sense Melora. There has to be another reason for the smell of moonblossoms."
Chrissa coughs softly as she's shaken in Melora's arms, and mewls in protest.
Melora bares her feline fangs and snarls deeply for a moment. Her eyes show whites around the rims similar to a trapped animal and her claws dig into the flooring. She growls then forces the words, "moonblossoms don' occur off m'home, Coper. I've been searchin th'markets, they Do Not, an I don' explain th'actions of one o'the Four." Her eyes narrow again and she growls, "I won' let my family hurt either. That's why we leave."
Melora holds Chrissa tighter, with the found strength of fear for her children. About the middle it's harmless, but very uncomfortable.
Chrissa squirms in Melora's grasp. "Mommy," she whines. She peers up at Melora plaintively, frightened.
Copernicus purrs, "And where do we leave to, Melora? If we leave by space,that will be against the rule of the ancients too. And from what you said, no where on the planet would we be safe. I have a fairly good nose, and I know what moonblossoms smell like. I'll go to the market and find this felitaur who smells of them and find out what's up. If you take the children, make sure they keep their armbands, that way I can find you later.""
Tycho is hiding as deep in the hammock as he can, he's never seen his mother and father be so upset.
Melora looks at Copernicus with dread then down at her mewling armload. She slowly lowers to the floor, her fur in disarray as she shifts her hold from a grasp to an embrace for the young felitaur. She begins to just softly sob, burying her muzzle into Chrissa's fuzzy shoulder. "I don' know where t'take 'em.." she whispers. "Oh Coper..." Panic may be broken even if hysteria isn't.
Copernicus snugs tight, tears forming in his eyes as he hates to see his mate this upset, "Melora, I've put all our forces on alert for anything that might threaten us or our children. I'm going to to face this felitaur. You can stay with the children, I won't make you come with me."
Chrissa hesitantly nuzzles at Melora's cheek, watching her closely.
Melora smoothes at Chrissa's wings and feathers with shaky fingers. She says quietly, "no, it's nae yer past, Copernicus. I shoul' face it, as one o'his race'n as Historian. I've gotta protect m'little loves" A tear dribbles down her cheek fur, landing on Chrissa's nose.
Tycho finally gets brave enough, and with a "fwump" kind of flops and flows out of the hammock onto the floor.
Copernicus nods, "Well, as your mate, I'll face it with you. Ceres will be here in a few minutes, and our other friends will guard our kits."
The sparks that had followed the feline so closely have faded by now, no longer the lightshow that would show up for miles. Anyone in the outer rooms would more than have seen it's angry frightened shifting. She nods just a little, still smoothing feathers, and slowly gathers herself.
Chrissa continues to gently nuzzle at whatever bits of Melora present themselves to her muzzle. She mews softly, peering up at her mother, trying to read whether the change in her expression means everything's all right again.
Melora flicks her ears at the soft mewling, then peers to the side to see Tycho similarly in disarray. She runs gentle fingers along Chrissa's back to soothe her as she says quietly, "b'fer we go Hunt, love, we need t'calm them down." With that.. she gathers Tycho and nuzzles at them until they're sleepy.