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I sit back and glare sullenly at the computer screen, finding myself confined to my lair...again. I'd tried to tell them it wasn't my fault, that I was simply in heat at the time and my abilities were a little off, but my foster father simply replied that such things were never my fault, they just seemed to happen when I was around. Of course that much seems to be true to a degree; it's as if my presence a disruptive effect on most current technologies, most especially when I am upset for one reason or another. The incident with the blaster parts was only the most recent and dangerous example of this. I sigh and continue to scan through the countless columns of book titles, while batteling agrowing arousal as some of the titles have more to do with mateing rituals than anything else, still, i'm hoping to find something about myself, at least my species. At seventeen, I am already seven feet tall, with hair a vibrant shade of indigo hanging down to my waist, and just hoping against hope that I won't grow any taller. My build has remained curiously thin, as it has all my life, but strangely muscular. Oddly, my muscles don't gain in size like those of a normal human male would. They just seem to get stronger the more I use them, leaving me with an odd build, heavier than that of any of the elven species, but not nearly so bulky as humans tend to get. So far, though my characteristics never seem to show up on any of the galactic network sites, I have had to conclude that I'm probably one of the angelic species, or at least some bizarre offshoot of the same. I could possibly be half demon given my strange eyes, but no one has ever been able to tell me for certain, all scans and blood tests having proven inconclusive, or at least, so they say. My dress remains nondescript, simple black pants; shirt, tunic and boots, all made of the durable, synthetic fibers so favored by space-farers, especially space-farers with less than lavish incomes.

Presently, there is a knock at the door and I turn away from the console to look, hiding the buldge in my pants with a thick manual, "Come in..."

The door opens and my foster mother pads delicately into the room, holding a heavy black book in one of her forepaws and smiling softly.

"Since I couldn't get you freed from here, I decided I'd bring you something to keep you occupied instead." She purrs, setting the heavy book down on my lap.

I pick it up, noting its weight, looking over the strange markings on the cover, "Just what is it?"

She smiles, looking quite pleased with herself, "It's the first book I ever used when I was studying the various magics of the universe."

"Oh?" I query curiously, opening the heavy cover and peering at the pages within, noting them to be in one of the commonly used draconic runic tongues which I have become familiar with. Finally I smile and hug her around the base of the neck, "Thanks! It's so boring being stuck in here like this, even if it's probably a matter of safety more than anything else."

She sighs and smiles, "Look, I know you never meant to make the blaster go off like that, but you have to understand, it was a piece of ships' artillery, you could have really hurt yourself, or damaged the ship. You're just lucky the focusing mechanism was damaged."

I sigh and look at the floor, "I swear, all I did was lay my hand on it..."

She chuckles softly, "That's why I brought the book for you. Maybe if you learn a few things about magic, you can stop setting things off. It used to happen to me too before I learned to control my existing talents."

I nod and smile softly, hugging her around the base of her neck again, "Thanks again."

She purrs a bit, "I'll have supper ready for you in a while, hopefully Windchaser will have managed to calm down by then. You have to remember, halfling or no, he is a mandrake."

I sigh, "like I could forget that for one second... could you make sure Starwind and Moonsong don't learn about this?"

"Of course."

She smiles once more and licks me on the cheek, then turns to head out, leaving me alone with the book and my thoughts and my bloody adolessent hormones.

My foster mother had become pregnant and soon after I was found; the result, a pair of exceptionally beautiful identical twins. They look like a cross between both their parents, with scales of tiny cut diamonds and sapphire markings, much like their father's. They are both bipeds with six limbs, having inherited that trait from their mother. The source of aggravation for me comes two fold. First of all, they are just barely adolescent females, which alone tends to cause some unrest especially with their being as beautiful as they are, and then there's the matter of Moonsong being, to put it bluntly, rather immature in her behaviors. Starwind tends to be the more mature, and always the more sensitive of the two. Her only fault happens to be however, that she tends to be a bit of a gossip. If she learns about something, you can bet that her sister will soon learn of it as well. To be honest, I am finding myself rather surprised that I have not yet had to contend with her yet, then I remember that they, being twins and in sync in most ways, at least biologically, are both dealing with, what my foster mother refers to as "seasonal female issues", which in the case of young lady dragons means ridding themselves of unfertilized eggs, for the first time. It must be hard, but I don't feel too bad for them, as females often use this as a time for bonding.

Well, at least it learning magic should be fun if nothing else. I walk over to my bed and recline, back resting against the headboard and a large cushion, then open the book and begin to read. The introduction has little to offer really, beyond the usual description of what magic is what it is capable of, and what the most common forms are, plus the usual warning against backlash and other such things. I thumb past that right away, its relatively pointless anyway, given that I already know most of it, finally coming to the first chapter, which seems to be about strengthening the senses. There, now this might be helpful.

After what seems like no more than half an hour, there is another knock at my door and my foster mother enters again, "Your free, come along then."

I chuckle softly and stand up, stretching...I must have been reading longer than I thought, "So what's for dinner anyway?"

"Chicken stir fry." She replies.

"Again?" I query, feeling less hungry than I was before.

I like chicken mind you, but not every night. Then again, given the family financial situation being what it is, it makes sense that she would take the best deal she could find.

"Yes, again." She growls, "Trust me, I don't like it any better than you, but its all we have, chicken and bell peppers, with eggs this time, thanks to your sisters."

I sigh, not happy about having to endure chicken again; then again, it's been months since I've had eggs... "Well, I missed lunch so I might as well."

"You'll like it once you start eating it." she chuckles.

"I hope so," I reply, "I'd just like something a bit darker than chicken for once, that's all."

"You know you'd get tired of that as well."

I sigh, unable to argue with such sound logic as that. Again, its not that I don't like chicken, simply that I've certainly had my fill of it lately, enough to last me for a good long time.

"Your the experienced mage in the family, can't you just materialize something?" I query.

"No," she replies, "I never learned how, only the best can do that, and even then it takes too much energy to truly be a practical source of food. In case you forget, the herbs needed to restore a mage's energies cost more per kilo than dark matter."

I sigh, following her out to the kitchen and sitting down at the small, circular table, looking at my plate of food rather morosely. Looking up, I can see that my foster father is in a similar mood regarding the meal; being a mandrake, he'd really proffer something a bit stronger tasting, and in all likelihood, not so well done. Starwind seems to echo my simple resignation on the matter, but as is often the case, Moonsong is not looking so agreeable. An interesting note on the twins is that though they are identical, their dress habits are completely different. Moonsong is fond of elaborate, long skirts, which often border on gaudy and is absolutely mad for jewelry of any kind, while as Starwind proffers of elegant but simple robes, and has never been known to wear anything more than a simple gold collar. Another interesting fact is that though Moonsong adores body paints, Starwind enjoys elegant tattoos; she has several, most consisting of elaborate, thorn-like patterns, with many crescents and long, smooth curves, all of purest black. Of course, how the diamond scaled dragoness got the tattoos, or indeed, how one would even go about creating the same through such a body covering, is a complete mystery to me. I am sure it involved some kind of sorcery.

Moonsong pokes at her food with her chopsticks, looking dissatisfied, and also a bit uncomfortable.

"You really should eat after what you went through earlier dear..." her mother prompts.

A long, high-pitched whine escapes her long muzzle and she looks even more dissatisfied, "But how do I know these aren't the ones I laid? I don't want to eat them if they're mine..."

Her mother sighs, "Look, it doesn't really matter who laid them, they're just cooked eggs."

I groan inwardly at the tone in Moonsong's voice; I just know there's going to be a scene, one which is very much likely to precipitate in my foster sister's exile from the dining area.

"But I don't want to even look at eggs right now!" Moonsong persists, her tone growing more stubborn, "I just spent most of a day laying the bloody things. I can't even sit comfortably right now because my vent aches so badly!"

My foster mother glares and there is a loud slapping sound from under the table, which draws a yelp, sniffles, and a hurt expression from Moonsong.

"That," my foster mother says sternly, "is for so rudely discussing the condition of your intimate regions while others are trying to eat."

After the meal, during the course of which Moonsong is indeed banished from the dining room along with her personal portion of chicken stir-fry with eggs, to the lair which is shared by her and her sister. My foster parents retire to their lair, looking very tired, and though they never mention it, I know full well what their nightly activities consist of. Chuckling softly, I go about cleaning the dishes, with the help of Starwind.

"Look, I'm sorry she's acting that way, I don't know why she's like this lately, but she really did hurt herself a bit, I saw it." she says, looking rather disheartened.

"It's not your fault," I reply, "she'd probably be just as rude if you weren't around. If you ask me, it's probably hormones."

She chuckles as we finish up the dishes and head down the hall to our respective lairs, "Dream well foster brother...and try not to let her get on your nerves okay?"

I smile and give her a hug, "Thank you."

With that, I head off to bed, feeling, still contemplating my situation.

* * * *

Lightwing lies with her mate, basking in the soft afterglow of recent passion and looking rather thoughtful.

"You know love, strange or not, he is our child by our own choice. You shouldn't be so hard on him." She purrs.

The mandrake halfling sighs softly, looking rather worried, "That strangeness is the problem love, I just don't know how to relate to him, not even knowing what he is and all."

"It would be a bit easier," she replies, "if you just treated him like you would another dragon kin, after all, is he really so different?"

Windchaser continues to look rather uncomfortable, "I just wish I knew what to make of him, that's all, but the one that really has me worried is Moonsong...I don't know what to do with that girl; it has to be hormonal. Maybe we should just try to get her some male companionship...some large male companionship that will keep her in line."

His mate snorts and swats him playfully on the rump with her tail, "You dirty old drake!"

He smiles innocently, "You weren't complaining about that five minutes ago..."

* * * *

The next morning, I awake feeling restless. Most days, I would just sit in my lair, reading one of the lovely novels from my foster mother's horde unless otherwise instructed, but today I feel the need to do something, anything so long as it involves getting out of my lair for a bit.

After breakfast, I make my way swiftly to the bridge, hoping to find my foster father there. Sure enough, he is standing at the viewing port, looking out the large windows.

"So what's for today?" I query.

The halfdrake turns with a start, then looks at me quizzically, "And just why does that interest you all of a sudden?"

"Because I need to do something, anything to get out of my lair."

He chuckles softly, "If you want, you could go clean off the scorch marks from that malfunctioning blaster cannon you triggered yesterday."

I sigh a bit, but nod, fetching a rag and a can cleaning spray, heading down to the cargo hold. The hold is largely full of debris, mostly ship parts from miscellaneous wrecks, but a few other things as well. On the wall, off to the left as I enter the hold, just above the small workbench, is a large, circular blackened area, which covers the doors of several of the large utility cabinets set into the wall. Somewhat grudgingly, I climb up onto the table and spray on a generous amount of the cleaner, before I go to work scrubbing. The dispersal of the pulse was wide, so essentially, it was little more destructive than a moderately intense flame, so the only real problem is soot. I glare and scrub at one particularly stubborn spot surrounding a one of the cupboard latches, a small, simple, lever-like mechanism.

Presently, as I rub, the scrub, the rag becomes entangled in the mechanism, and as I go to pull it free, the cupboard comes open, striking me in the face and causing me to lose my balance. I fall off the bench backward and land heavily on my back on the hard metal floor, crying out as a small, but very heavy metal chest falls from the rack on the inside of the door, landing squarely on my chest. Its not that it feels all that heavy, but the corners on the thing are rather sharp. After the few moments it takes me to determine that I have sustained no real injuries, I sit up, examining the strange package. I work down here often and its not something I've ever seen before. It's simple titanosteel, but what makes it most curious is that it has my name, Thaenrathi, engraved on the lid.

Curious, I set the chest aside to be inquired about later on and close the door, finishing up the cleaning, then retrieving the chest and heading back up my foster parents' lair, knowing my foster mother will be alone there at this time of day.

Sure enough, I find the door open and my foster mother inside, reclining in the nest and reading a large book, which from the title, I gather is some sort of obscure historical/religious text. She is known for reading some rather odd things.

Upon noting my presence, she looks up and smiles, "What do you wish to know?"

I sigh softly, "I really wish you wouldn't do that, telepathy is very unnerving to those of us who aren't skilled at it."

"Empathy dear," she corrects, "telepathy is for information, empathy is for emotion, and anyone can learn either given sufficient training."

"Well, I was just wondering what you could tell me about this." I reply, holding out the small chest with the cryptic label engraved in the lid.

"Oh my," she exclaims, clearly surprised, "I haven't seen this for years, not since..."

She trails off and goes about opening it before handing it back to me. Inside as a small scrap of leather, bearing a strange rune and one word, my name, both written in black ink; there is also a small, triangular pyramid, wrought of some black substance.

"These were the only things we found in the wreckage with you," she continues, "or, rather, the only ones that stood to tell us anything about you. The note is just that, a note, seemingly announcing your name, but we don't know what the rune means. The artifact, given the aura of power surrounding it seems to be just that, an artifact, but I was never able to unlock its secrets. I suppose its only fitting that you keep them now; you have come of age and they are rightfully yours."

I sigh softly and nod, "I suppose it should be my task anyway."

She looks a bit concerned, "Please try not to worry about it too much."

I nod, debating whether or not to bring up the matter which has been troubling me off and on for the past year.

Finally, I decide to voice my concern, "I've been thinking about this a lot lately...and you know I love all of you and appreciate everything you've done for me but..."

"Well, what's wrong then?" she queries softly.

I pause, struggling for the proper words; after all, I don't want her to feel unappreciated, "Well, I suppose what it comes down to is the fact that I've been growing restless lately. More and more often, over the course of the past year, I have been feeling as if I am supposed to do something that involves getting off this ship. I don't know what it is I plan on doing, but I don't know how much longer it would be right for me to stay here. Honestly, I'm starting to feel suffocated; I read those books of yours and I find myself longing for excitement...maybe its just silly wanderlust but...well, in any case, I will need help doing it, I don't know anyone off the ship really, not well at least."

She nods and sighs, looking a bit worried, but not truly surprised, "I've been expecting this for some time now I suppose...I will talk with my mate about it and we will see what kind of arrangements we can make. I know you've never felt like you fitted in among us..."

I am truly touched by this, "No, it's not that, its simply that...I won't know what it feels like to fit in until I know what I am, and if there are more like me."

She smiles wistfully, "I understand."

I smile in return, " I promise, wherever I go, whatever I do, I won't forget you kindness."

"I know."

With that, I head back to my room, feeling rather moody, or at the very least, introspective. I sit back on bed and remove the scrap of hide from the box. It has a strange feeling to it and I realize instantly how my foster mother knew it was a rune. The feeling is warm and rather tingly, it's not a physical sensation and rather odd.

Returning the scrap to the chest, I pick up the pyramid. Now this one is definitely a shock. The feeling is like electricity and rather cold, an odd sensation to say the least.

I sigh and contemplate my situation for a while, wondering just where these feelings stem from. Its not like I ever had anything specific in mind as to what I wanted to do, or indeed, anything in mind at all, aside from the obvious of getting off the ship. The only goal I do seem to have would be the obvious of finding out just what I am, and who my people are, provided that is, I have a specific race. One of my fears has always been that I might just be some sort of genetics experiment or some such. What a lonely existence that would be.

I lay back, putting the relics away and closing the chest, then proceed to study my mage's guide-book again, wondering if maybe it has some passing reference to strange species; a quick check of the index however, dissuades me of that notion. Still, the section on astral projection looks rather interesting, if not terribly practical, though I might be able to find some information there. The rest are rather simplistic things, from light generating, to a few attack and shielding techniques, the latter of which are preceded by a number of cautionary notes on requirements for learning them and, of course, the things one must not do with them under any circumstances. The warnings are all more or less interchangeable, cautioning the reader to be mindful of backlashes and, as well, the amount of power necessary for the casting. I decide against actually practicing any of those, even in a limited capacity, for obvious reasons.

Some hours later, there is a knock at the door, which from the start narrows the possibility as to who it can be. My foster father and sister Moonsong never knock, my foster father because he considers the entire ship "his territory" and Moonsong because she simply doesn't care for manners. So I can deduce from this that it is either my foster mother, of foster sister Starwind.

"Come in." I sigh, laying back on my bed.

Starwind tentatively pokes her head in, as if feeling the need to make sure she is not intruding regardless my permission. When she has at last assured herself that all is well, she enters, looking very concerned.

She sits on the foot of my bed, looking worried in the extreme, "I heard mother and father talking just now, hey were saying you were going to be leaving us soon."

I nod a bit and sigh, "Look, I can't stay here forever. I need to get off this ship and start having a life soon, you understand right?"

She lays her ears back and I can tell she is trying rather hard not to whine, "But I don't want you to leave us. I know how you feel though...I have to admit I have been thinking about it a lot lately myself, but I can't go now. Moonsong may be a pain some times, but I love my sister and she still needs me."

I chuckle softly, "I wasn't asking if you wanted to come along."

She nods a bit, "I understand, I promise to support you in whatever you want to do, but...just please don't forget about me okay?"

"Of course I won't forget." I reply, "And I promise I will come back and visit you from time to time."

She smiles and hugs me, which is rather unnerving, as she doesn't do such things terribly often, at least with me. Then leaves, apparently satisfied, looking much less anxious.

I sigh softly and sit back on the bed to read some more. The strangest thing about my situation at present is this feeling of restlessness. I just can't seem to calm down properly, it's that feeling one gets when there is something terribly pressing, which one must accomplish, and can't start on yet. I snort a bit, deciding that it is indeed, probably caused by the same kind of hormones that are making Moonsong so terribly disagreeable right now. That still doesn't change how I feel though, I just can't seem to get comfortable. Oh well, maybe I will start feeling a bit better once I have some idea just what it is I'm going to be doing once I get off this ship.

Presently, I am startled by a very much unannounced entrance. It is Moonsong, though why I can't begin to guess.

"Well, if it isn't miss manners herself." I grumble sarcastically.

She looks genuinely hurt for once, "Look, I heard you were leaving and...well, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't because of me."

She looks uncomfortable, and I get the sense that his wasn't completely her idea. Starwind probably put her up to it. The main problem with Moonsong and sensitivity is that she isn't particularly used to being sensitive, and as such, doesn't do it terribly well when she must.

I sigh and decide to accept her rather cryptic apology, "Look, it's not about you...I just feel like I'm suffocating, its time for me to move on now. My guess is, that your being such a pain because you feel something similar, am I right?"

She blushes a bit and looks down at her toe claws, "Well, honestly I...that is, I don't know what I want right now, but I feel nervous all the time. The reason I'm so rude to you is...well, you're the only male on board besides my father."

I sigh softly, deciding to ignore that last comment, "I don't know what I want to do either, I just know I have to leave this place. It's nothing against you or anyone else. To tell the truth your family is the only one I remember anything of and I really am grateful that you actually treat me like part of the family."

She smiles a bit, then chews on her lower lip, "I guess what I mean is, I'm sorry for being such a pain in the rump lately."

I smile a bit, "Apology accepted then."

Apparently satisfied Moonsong leaves as well, without another word.

I sigh and lay back on my bed again, starting to feel rather tired at this point, and quickly decide that perhaps a quick nap might not be a bad idea. After all, my foster mother swears by them, and being a much calmer dragon than my foster father, is fond of such things anyway. I close my eyes, and am quickly drop off to sleep.

* * * *

Stormkeeper sighs softly, leaning back idly in the pilot's chair of his small fighter, stretching his wings a bit, and shedding a few small feathers. He presently reflects that the distinct disadvantage to being a hippogryph as opposed to say, well, something without feathers at any rate, is the fact that his wings need constant preening. Stormkeeper is an anthropomorphic, which, he reflects in turn, does take some of the trouble out of the matter.

His fur and feathers are a light gray, with the occasional dappling of white, and his tail and mane are a deep black.

The "Stellar Phoenix" is a small ship indeed, only large enough to house five people, at the absolute maximum, and that's assuming they are all the size of him and his partner, or close to I at any rate. However, its weapons system is extraordinarily advanced, and its engens large and powerful, which more than make up for its size. Its shape is, like most fighters of its size, very much like a stiletto, long and thin, its shape alone allowing for flight in atmosphere. It is also currently docked at the space docks at the asteroid colony of North Star.

Stormkeeper is in a bit of a tight spot right now, which has him in a rather bad mood; namely, he only has one other crew member besides himself, which is pitifully inadequate for the ventures he is used to, or at least, those he strives for. This in turn leads him to reflect on the disadvantages of being a Freelancer over some more stable form of employment. Being free from such things may seem exciting and indeed can be sometimes, but in matters of financial success, tends to mean that one relies on one's ability to find suitable employment, living from job to job, which in turn leads back to the problem of finding, and more importantly, keeping, a crew. Those Freelancers without ships of their own tend to move from ship to ship rather frequently. The last one in fact, left rather suddenly, and for reasons still unknown. Then again, he wasn't of particular use anyway.

Presently, the door to the rear of the bridge opens and young, gray draconid enters. She is tall and slim, with a build rather similar to that of a standard human save for three large differences. First, she has a tail, which reaches nearly to the ground; it is prehensile but can be used with only limited dexterity due to its girth. Second, her feet are three toed and digitigrade, the toes ending in short, strong claws. And third, her wedge-muzzled face, with its long ears and long, green mane, which is actually naturally white, looks nothing like that of a human.

She wears her mane long and is currently wearing a pair of simple black pants, a flexible, comfortable armored jacket, and a pair of gauntlets.

The hippogryph looks up, "Windblade, please tell me you had some luck."

The draconid favors him with a green-eyed glare, "No. All I did find were a pair of big cats, of some breed I've never seen, one of which grabbed my tail and tried to get his hand down my panties. They both suffered for that one, and were still out cold when I left them, but regardless, next time, it's your turn to look."

Without saying anything more, she leaves through the same door, headed back to the main living space.

"Wonderful," Stormseeker grumbles, grinding h is beak, "Its going to be one of those days..."

The draconid is a young, very accomplished fighter named Silver, and he does like her as a crew mate, but she is such a pain in the rump when she's been irritated by something. Plus there's the fact that she isn't likely to let him forget this most recent incident for some time. Her temper could, however be worse of course; he has seen it worse and doesn't wish for a repeat of that incident. So, he sits and he waits, and he hopes against hope that something of some interest, or even better, someone of interest will make its self known to him. He sighs and rummages under his seat for the potion bottle, which he hid there previously, reflecting as he does so that what he really needs in his company now, having two warriors already, himself included, is a mage. Or perhaps a cleric, someone who is good with magics at any rate. He sighs yet again and decides to talk to his old friend Windchaser about the matter when he comes to drop off his load of recovered materials. He knows the halfdrake will come to North Star because there is always a market for salvaged materials. Sure it's a long shot, but those work out sometimes don't they?

After a moment, he reconsiders, deciding that there is nothing better than a carefully laid plan, and carefully tapping the Technomancer's call number into his own ship's radio.

After several moments, the screen comes up with the halfdrake's face on it.

He looks irritable until he apparently receives a visual as well, "Ha! It's you then. Well what's the special occasion?"

The Hippogryph chuckles a bit, "Lack of crew members actually. I was wondering if you knew anyone."

"As it happens, I may have someone you can use who's also looking for work," he replies, then pauses for a moment before continuing, "If your not looking for age and experience that is."

Stormkeeper chuckles softly, "What I'm looking for is a magic user; age and experience don't matter in the least."

"I only ask because the mage in question has only just begun to dabble in his ability and is still a bit green." Windchaser replies, "I'm not sure how good he is yet."

The hippogryph looks a bit suspicious, "Just who is this mystery man anyway?"

Windchaser laughs loudly, "Remember that foster child I told you about?"

Stormkeeper snorts softly, "He can't be more than an adolescent."

The halfdrake shrugs a bit, "He's already seven feet tall, and recently he set off a blaster cannon just by touching it. You know how much force it takes to destabilize a blaster shell. I'm just thankful the thing was too unfocused to do any real damage to the ship."

"That doesn't prove anything, it could have been damaged before you found it."

"It wasn't," Windchaser replies, "I checked."

"Well, I admit, it sounds promising. When will you be coming in?" he queries, preening one of his talons idly.

"A week from now, can you wait that long?"

Stormkeeper sighs a bit, "I can't do anything without a proper crew. I'll have a look at him when you come in."

They exchange good-byes and the screen goes blank.

The Freelancer takes a moment to reflect on the situation; indeed, it still isn't as sure a thing as he would like, but at least it's a good, strong possibility, regardless of the extra time it will waste. Then again, he isn't exactly low on resources, in terms of supplies or funds; on the contrary, he and his crewmate could easily go over a year or more without employment. Or, if they wished to sell the ship, they could probably retire quite comfortably, given the amount of money it takes to keep a ship like this one fueled, docked, and otherwise cared for, but he and his partner have no intention of doing so.

* * * *

I awake to a smart knocking at the door.

"Supper's ready..." my foster mother calls politely.

I sit up, feeling decidedly odd. The dreams I had while I slept were strange, convoluted and disjointed things that didn't seem to make any kind of real, coherent sense, but just sort of wandered all over the place. Much of it, I can't remember at all, and what I do remember is, well...rather violent and confusing. I have to really attribute this to the fact that I am feeling rather anxious just now, which has probably effected my dreams at least somewhat.

I sit up slowly, then rather reluctantly climb out of bet, stretching as I do so. I head out the door and make my way to the dining room. The smell tells me that its Thai style chicken curry for tonight, which makes me feel a bit better really, as I simply adore curry. As I sit down, I can see that Moonsong isn't terribly happy with the meal...then again, as my recent discussion with her disclosed, she's just not very happy right now in general.

The meal is quite good really, even if the meat in it is something I am rather tired of, it all tastes like curry anyway. My foster father is looking anxious about something, almost as if there is something that he is trying to avoid saying, or rather, trying to come up with a reason to avoid speaking about it. The subject is, of course, obvious to me however. I know he cares for me and that this situation has him unnerved a bit.

After some internal debate, he finally seems to get up the nerve to speak out on the subject, "Lightwing and I have been discussing your situation Thaenrathi. I think I may know someone who could help you find employment if that is what you're looking for. He's a Freelancer named Stormkeeper."

I pause for a moment, chewing thoughtfully, "But just what is it a Freelancer does anyway? I have never been too clear on that."

My foster father shrugs a bit, "Whatever pays well usually. It depends mostly on the individual, but I know Stormkeeper tends to try for the more...interesting jobs."

I nod a bit, "At least it sounds exciting enough, or at least reasonably interesting. No offense, but I cannot see myself doing salvage for a living."

Hi nods slightly, seeming to purposefully focus most of his attention on his food. I can tell its bothering him, even if he doesn't even want to admit it to himself.

"I will meet him at North Star a week from now when we go to drop off this shipment. I'll see about specifics then; in the mean time, do try studying that spell book your foster mother gave you, Stormkeeper said specifically when he contacted me just this morning that he needs a magic user."

Once the meal is finished, I retire to my room to study the book as previously suggested. Thankfully, I helped with the kitchen last night and do not have to do so tonight.

The chapter for tonight deals with the basic beginning instructions on energy: the basic kinds, how to recognize them, what they are useful for, how to draw them and how to develop one's ability to store these energies. The material would seem boring if it weren't for the fact that it keeps me from dwelling on my future constantly. The fact remains that I still have a bout a week's worth of waiting to do before I can even take steps towards getting myself some means of employment.

I am, of course, a bit apprehensive about this whole thing; but then again, I am also so excited about it that I don't think about the possibly frightening aspects of it.

When at last I have finished the chapter, I let myself drift off to sleep, having learned all I ever wanted to know about the major Chakra centers of the body.

Chapter Two: Possibilities

Over the course of a weak, I have only managed to learn two basic techniques that will be of any real use, though it's mainly because I don't have anywhere safe to test my abilities. This is rather aggravating, but then again, no one ever said being a mage was supposed to be easy, so I suppose I am bound to have some problems, if not in actually learning the material, then in practicing it.

At any rate, it is now the final day before our arrival at the asteroid colony known as North Star, or rather, the night of the final day, shortly before suppertime actually. I lie in my room, reading the book, which I have gotten half way through by this point, a considerable feat given its size. But try as I might, I can't concentrate on the book right now, I'm in far too great a state of excitement. I really wish I could manage to calm down, I had been doing such a good job of it until just now. Regardless, I suddenly find myself unable to think about anything but my upcoming future.

Finally, I give up trying to read the book and content myself staring at the wall across the room without actually seeing it. The problem, I conclude, is that I have already done everything I can as far as packing. I don't have very many possessions other than clothes and a few books, as well as a few various personal effects. And I am quite certain that I will indeed need new clothes if everything works out as planned. After all, my simple outfit is really hardly proper dress for a mage, much less a freelancer mage; they always seem to have an odd manner of dress and I, it seems, need to discover my own unique style in this area.

I sit for a while and contemplate this. It's a hard thing, judging style, when one has never worn anything but simple pants and shirt, and those black on black. It occurs to me that I have no idea what I want in terms of new clothing, that is, assuming I will be able to purchase said. If the potential employer is in the same situation as my foster parents, that is not terribly likely. So in the end, I have kept a change of clothes, but only one.

Presently, Moonsong pokes her muzzle through the door a bit, which impresses me a bit as usually she would simple come and go as she pleased.

"Nervous?" she queries, rather softly.

I nod, not saying anything.

She looks hurt, "If you wanted me to leave, you could have just said so you know."

I shake my head a bit, "I'm just tired of waiting."

She nods slightly, looking, unusually concerned, "I wish there was something I could do."

I sigh softly. She has always been such a nuisance to me that I never realized she actually cared for me...maybe it was just thoughtlessness on my part.

"I'm sorry." I reply.

She sighs, "look, I do know how you feel."

I nod, finally meeting her gaze, "I know, but I still need to get out of here you know."

She nods, "I know, that's why I asked father to put a good word in for me as well."

For a moment, I can't think of anything to say at all. Then finally, I manage to blurt out, "What?"

"I intend on going with you." She replies.

"No," I reply, still struggling for words, "Look, your sister needs you, you can't do this."

"She doesn't need me," Moonsong snorts, "Besides, I'm bored."

I glare at her, "This isn't something you do just because your bored, it's not a bloody game you know."

She returns my glare acidly, "Have you forgotten the last time you tried to best me in a fight?"

Of course I have not forgotten this for a moment, I still have scars from the experience, but I was only fifteen at the time.

"Look, I just don't think your ready for this--"

"No," she interrupts me, eyes flashing, "you just don't want your pain in the ass foster sister along!"

Now this hurts most of all because it's so very true. Having her along never once figured into my plans or fantasies; I had always figured on going it alone and starting over. Having her along with me would be a serious change of plans, one I never could have expected.

"I'm sorry," I reply sullenly, "I just never even thought about the possibility of having you along. I had always thought I'd go it alone and start a new life on my own, and maybe, one day, after all my adventures were done and I'd found my people, I'd settle down and relax again."

She smiles a bit, "Look, I won't get in your way, I promise."

I look up to see her smiling sweetly, giving that "big eyes" look that young dragon ladies have a habit of using.

"Then just see that you don't," I reply.

She hugs me abruptly, apparently relieved that there isn't going to be a serious fight over the matter.

By this point, I can smell that supper is ready, or at least, very nearly so, and my foster sister seems to have noticed it as well. Her nostrils flare and she licks her lips, getting up and heading out of my room without another word. I follow her, finding her behavior strange.

"What's with you?" I query, "I didn't think you liked chicken."

She snorts derisively, then I catch the scent as well. This isn't chicken at all, its something far more interesting, some kind of red meat, possibly elk of some sort, or maybe something else entirely, but in any case, it is not chicken.

"Oh..." I reply.

All my life I have had, for some reason, heightened senses of smell and vision, which is odd, considering these are not traits common among elves, angelics, or humans. Regardless, I am surprised I didn't detect the difference sooner.

Upon entering the dining room, I find that bowls of some kind of stew, containing peppers, onions, mushrooms, and a dark meat of some kind. My foster mother is just getting ready to sit down herself.

"What's the occasion?" I query.

"Two of my children are making ready to leave, I'd say that's occasion enough," she replies wistfully.

The fact that she seems rather saddened by my leaving puts a bit of a damper on things, but I am still perfectly able to enjoy the food. The only one whose appetite seems to have been effected is Starwind. She picks at her food and looks deeply thoughtful, but says nothing, apparently not wishing to worry anyone.

The meal is finished in the complete silence that always seems to follow large changes. When the dishes have been cleared, I head back to my room, still far too excited to truly relax. Instead, I sit on the edge of my bed and pick up the small chest again, looking over its contents and sighing a bit. It's all such a tease really, in that it tells me virtually nothing about myself. Perhaps the artifact might tell me something, that is if I could somehow figure out how to operate it, but so far I haven't had any real luck in that area; it just sits there and continues to feel cold and prickly whenever I pick it up, but it never discloses anything of it's secrets to me. It's really quite irritating.

Presently, there is a very polite knocking at the door, more of a tapping really.

"Come in," I reply.

Of course, I know even before she inters that it is Starwind. She is so unerringly polite that it's very nearly a fault. She stands and looks uneasy.

"What is it?" I query.

"I just...I'm going to be all alone here with mother and father soon and..."she finishes the thought by whining softly.

I sigh, "Please don't wine, I have to do this."

"I just wish both of you didn't have to leave." she whines a bit more.

I smile, "You can come if you want."

She sighs softly, "No, I can't leave mother and father yet, it just wouldn't be right I think."

"I will visit you, I promise."

"I know," she sighs, "but still."

I hug her, "I know, if I weren't so excited, I'd worry about it too."

She sighs and finally nods, "I'm glad you understand."

I smile a bit, "You'll be okay."

She nods and turns to leave, shutting the door behind her.

I sigh and sit back down on the bed, then laying down and trying to relax. It's not easy really, even though I am learning certain exercises from the book to help, I still can't seem to get relaxed enough to sleep. It's a rather vexing problem to be perfectly honest.

I awake feeling rested, but excited, which is odd as I don't remember falling asleep, but at least I know it's morning now, I can smell breakfast cooking. I dress and make sure my hair is properly brushed and tied back, then head out to the dining room.

Everyone is already at the table by the time I get there, all eating, even Starwind this time, having apparently managed to get over her worries. I sit down at the table as well. It's consists of leftovers from the night before, served over white rice, with eggs. Oddly, Moonsong seems rather agreeable to eating it and doesn't make a sound of discontentment.

After a few moments, my foster father finally speaks up, "We should be at North Star by midday, so both of you make sure your ready by then."

I nod and Moonsong simply rumbles a soft affirmative, as she is in the middle of chewing.

"And remember, it's a small ship so you can't bring everything you own, you'll have to make some choices." he continues, looking pointedly at Moonsong.

She simply ignores the remark and continues eating ravenously.

"I thought you said it wasn't a sure thing." I reply pointedly.

He chuckles, "Stormkeeper has been my best friend since we were both hatchlings. Trust me, I know what kind of help he needs, he won't refuse."

I nod a bit and go back to eating my breakfast. It really is very good, even as leftovers.

After I have finished my meal, I head back to my room and proceed to look through the three large satchels in which I have packed everything I own, making sure that I haven't forgotten anything terribly important. Books, clothes, several bottles of mages' restorative potion, the small chest of course, and a number of other small personal effects. Indeed, it does all seem to be here, but I check the room again, just to be certain, checking in all of the desk drawers and cupboards several times until I have satisfied myself that I haven't managed to forget anything.

At this point, having done all I can do to prepare, I sit down on the bed to wait. Waiting, it's always a tedious activity, and it's even worse than usual in this case. There is, however, obviously nothing I can do to take my mind off the matter, which makes it even more difficult. I silently wish I had thought to save some of the preparation for this morning; then again, knowing the nature of things, I probably would end up with too much left to do had I decided on that course of action. Sometimes, there really is just nothing to do but wait.

Intent on passing the time somehow, I attempt meditation, utilizing the relaxation techniques I learned from the mages' book. This is a good idea simply because when one meditates, as when one focuses on anything else, one tends to lose track of time. Indeed, sometimes the very point of meditation is to lose all perception of time.

With this in mind, I lay back on the bed, freeing my mind of all thoughts as I make a distinct effort to release all tensions from my muscles. Gradually, my limbs begin to feel leaden and indeed, I lose track of most of the sensations in them. There, this is what I was looking for...

* * * *

Moonsong hurries around her lair, gathering clothes and various other items from locations around the room. She is a rather disorderly dragoness so some of her searching takes her under the nest.

"Damn it, where did I put those things?" she growls, the search for the gauntlets for her finest set of armor having thus far, proved utterly fruitless. They weren't in the closet, or the cupboard, or under any of the nest cushions, this really is the only place left that they could sensibly be found, and it is extremely messy. She reflects, presently, that the problem with having your nest raised off the floor is that things tend to get blithely pushed under it, making finding them again, among the piles of other items, rather difficult.

Finally, after much growling, and some sneezing as she encounters patches of dust, she finds them up against the wall. She purrs softly, looking over the polished surface of the armor plates of the brigandine. The black fabric base of the gauntlets, is made of specialized polymer, to which have been affixed special silver plates, on which have been carved the intricate crests and sigils which harness her body's energy and render the armor it's self far stronger than it would be otherwise. The rest of the armor suit consists of a pair of knee length grieves, a formfitting tunic, and a skirt which reaches down just past her knees. There is also a collar for her mid neck and a small band, which she straps to her tail approximately half way down its length. Thanks to the rune plates, these provide armor to the whole of her head, neck, and tail.

The armor was a gift from her father, given to her on her fifteenth birthday, and what is more, Thaenrathi has not seen it yet, she made sure of that, hence the location of the gauntlets.

In truth, she has wished to leave since she came of age and has been saving the armor to be worn for the first time on this very occasion.

She purrs luxuriantly, posing nude before her mirror as she slips the gauntlets over her dainty hands and buckles them snugly, then slips into the grieves in a similar fashion. Then she secures the band and collar about her tail and neck, taking time to strike a sultry pose before the mirror before slipping into the rest of her armor and looking her self over appraisingly. The armored tunic hugs her bust line marvelously, which is very important to her given that she likes to be noticed. The skirt is also perfect, it even hangs the way a skirt is supposed to; even the armor at the crotch feels like that of an ordinary skirt. Indeed, this armor is made for her alone.

"Now," she muses aloud, "where did I put those sun goggles?"

She gets on her hands and knees and rummages under the nest some more, tail flagging high and giving anyone who much catch her off guard a very clear view of the fine, scale-like plates which line the crotch of her armor.

"Ha, there!" she exclaims, pleased with herself as she retrieves the goggles with their elliptical eye pieces, and straps on the special harness designed to keep the goggles on her face, then striking another pose in the mirror.

"He's not going to know what to think!" she chuckles to herself, smug in the knowledge that she will be able to surprise her foster brother to such an extent, for she also has the skill worthy of such armor.

She chuckles and gives herself another look in the mirror, making certain everything looks its best before setting off to see Thaenrathi.

* * * *

I lie in bed, intent in my meditation. Or perhaps the proper description of my state of mind would be the exact opposite of intent, as it is a condition so very near sleep its self; at any rate, I am so deeply in my meditative state that I never hear the door open, and indeed don't hear anything at all until my foster sister's voice jars me back to full consciousness.

"Hey there!" its not so much that she is so terribly loud as it is that she seems rather excited and I was not expecting any interruptions.

I sit up a bit sluggishly, then slowly open my eyes. And what I see causes me to stare just short of openmouthed.

It is my foster sister, but it certainly is not the Moonsong I have known most of my life, the Moonsong who loves gaudy skirts and body paints. This young lady carries herself with authority and wears a suit of what can only be described as draconic brigandine, each silver plate carved with an intricate, interlocking series of sigils, crests, and other runic patterns.

Rather dumbfounded and unable to come up with anything more intelligible, I blurt out, "Moonsong?"

"Yes," she replies patiently, "like it?"

I nod dumbly, and can't help but be rather captivated by the site. On the one hand, she looks like a warrior, and on the other, she also manages to look rather alluring in this outfit. And then there is the fact that she is indeed my foster sister, someone I grew up with, someone I've known nearly my entire life and hadn't realized how overall gorgeous she is until just now.

She giggles loudly, clearly relishing my surprise. I blush a bit, rather irritated with myself for letting her surprise me in such a way. I know she's her sister's twin after all.

"Is it nearing time to go?" I finally manage to query, trying to change the subject.

"Almost I think!" she manages to gasp out in between giggles.

I sigh, still astonished and rather exasperated with myself for my own reaction. She's my foster sister by all the Gods! I shouldn't be thinking about any foster sister of mine in that way, regardless of the fact that we're not even the same species, and up until very recently, I found her to be very near intolerable company. Then again, I have learned the cause of that last one, and upon reflection, it may have been a strange attempt at kindness on her part really, hoping to aggravate her parents until they decided to tell her to leave...then again, that could have been simple abstinence as well, its just so hard to tell. I sigh, and again, wondering why it couldn't have been Starwind instead, though in so doing I realize that she would never go in for such a thing. It just isn't the kind of thing she would be at all likely to do, because regardless of how romantic the life of a freelancer may be, its just far too unstable for her. I know Starwind better than I do her sister and one thing I know is that those tattoos she has are in a way, a metaphor for her very nature, beautiful, intricate, and elaborate yes, but also permanent, and stable, any changes to them occurring only over long periods of time and after much contemplation. I could see her going off to live as a cleric in some temple with a number of other lady dragons, where she could meditate and sit among her books, and share the company of other ladies which, she has confided in me during one very deep conversation, she proffers. Of course, I never told her my foster parents about it. Now that I think about it, when she told me the other night that she couldn't come because she could not stand to leave her parents, I think it was at least partially a polite way of saying that she would really rather not.

So lost in thought am I on the matter that I end up walking head long into the very dragoness who has previously occupied my thoughts.

She yelps and I blush, looking up, "Oh Gods, I'm sorry!"

She quickly composes herself and appears embarrassed as well. It's clear she wasn't looking where she was going either.

"No, its all right, I should have been watching where I was going myself..."she trails off, looking as if her mind is on other things.

"Did you see your sister?" I query.

"Yes." she replies flatly, tail twitching uncomfortably.

I sigh, "So may I ask where this new attitude came from?"

My foster sister chuckles, "She's about to be free and she knows it. In my opinion, she's just been waiting for the proper opportunity to do this."

I nod, "That sounds like something she'd do."

Starwind continues to look uncomfortable and shifts from foot to foot, as if the floor is too hot, "please excuse me, I really have to go...deal with something."

"Certainly." I reply, and watch her leave. She struts down the hall and into her lair, closing the door and by the sound of it, locking it as well. I am left wondering just what it is that she was on her way to do when she literally ran into me.

Presently, there is a bit of noise from inside the lair, a bit of growling in one of the native draconic tongues, which I am able to translate as an ultimatum to "leave or else" no less, then the door unlocks, and slides open. Moonsong hurries out, the door closing and locking again after her.

"What is her problem anyway?" she queries, scornfully.

"I have no idea." I reply, deciding that my suspicions on the matter had best remain silent suspicions.

Within an hour, the ship beings to pull into the docking bay at North Star; a rather slow and tedious process for anyone who has reached the sufficient level of excitement to find them selves waiting with baited breath at the inner air lock doors. The exit ramp its self is located in the underbelly of the ship. It should also be noted that the air lock on a salvage freighter such as this one is essentially the cargo hold, which is perfectly practical as the docking bay at North Star is pressurized.

My foster sister and I wait restlessly. Moonsong seems intent on keeping her appearance pristine, regardless of the fact that her outfit is indeed armor and designed to take a great deal of punishment. I myself have no such fine clothing to present myself in, and hope that simple ability will be enough to suffice in making a suitable first impression. Indeed, all the Freelancers I have ever read about were fond of fancy, and rather strange clothing, then again, these could be exaggerations of some kind, or simply flights of fancy with no truth to them what so ever. Regardless of that, I will indeed need something other than, or at least to go with, what I have now. I lean against the wall, trying to consider what I might look good in.

After a bit of consideration, I decide that the least I will need will include a pair of sunglasses, and some sort of long, durable over-garment, what exactly I will want in the case of the latter, I am not entirely sure. My boots, pants and shirt seem fine, given the material they are made from and the fact that I seem to have stopped growing. I might need some kind of armor as well of course, but I don't know what kinds are available, or what I am looking for in that area either, save that generally, mage's armor tends to differ from outright warrior's armor.

Presently, the ship's engens shut down completely, leaving the maneuvering to the light thrusters and indicating that we are indeed on the final approach for docking. Moonsong growls impatiently, shifting from foot to foot and whining softly.

After what seems like a minute eternity to both of us, the ship finally stops all together and the doors slowly open, the lower door resting on the loading platform, allowing us to finally step out. This draws all around odd looks from the dock-hands, who consist of everything from ordinary humans, to storm dragons of similar species, but not precisely the same, an oddity in my opinion as they could get a job doing many other things, which would pay much better. Storm dragons are a race (or rather group of related races) of beautiful and flawlessly endowed dragons, notable by their characteristic coloration, black with a white underbelly. Their hide is soft and often scaled, but very strong, and their manes can very in color and length, but are all several order of magnitude thicker per strand than normal mammalian hair, though they still manage to remain very soft. They are also usually rather muscular and walk in a raptor like stance, with their torsos about thirty-five degrees from parallel to the ground. Another interesting fact about them is that they are all hermaphrodites, or at least, that is the norm. Of course, there are other kinds of storm dragons, but most of them would rather not venture too far from their home climates, and thus, the storms they love. The reason this particular genus seems to have no problem with space travel, however, is probably also partially related to the fact that they are markedly smaller than some of their larger cousins.

Shortly after exiting into the much lower gravity, we find ourselves waiting on the platform, off to one side, along with most of the dock-hands; the reason being that unloading cannot being until the owner of the ship has presented him or herself and signed the necessary forms. One of the dockhands, a particularly muscular storm dragon is ogling Moonsong a bit. My foster sister, meanwhile, pretends not to take any notice of the attention at all, but its obvious to me that she simply loves being the subject of so much attention. In the meantime, one of the other dockhands, a rather nondescript young anthropomorphic raptor, is gazing fixedly at my eyes, failing miserably in his attempt to hide his staring and seeming conflicted as to whether he wishes to say something to me or not.

I take the initiative for him, "You want to know about the eyes, right?"

He jumps a bit, becoming rather flustered, "Err, yes, I've never seen a creature quite like you before."

"Neither have i." I reply with a sigh, "as near as I can tell, I'm probably an angelic of some kind, but that's still just speculation."

He is silent for a moment, then looks to Moonsong, "Is that your mate."

I glare a bit, "She's my foster sister."

Again, he looks terribly embarrassed and pretends to busy himself with preening and sharpening his claws.

I sigh softly, "it's all right, don't worry about it."

After several more long moments, both my foster parents appear, padding down the ramp in a dignified fashion. Oddly, that is something I have noticed about dragons in general, they can make nearly anything appear dignified. They then meet with the minor official in charge of paper work and quickly verify that the cargo is not to be unloaded just yet. This is met with a bit of relief from the dockhands, who apparently get paid regardless of how much actual work they do.

When the paper work and formalities are finally concluded to the satisfaction of my foster parents, as well as the satisfaction of the official in question, who appears to be an anthropomorphic cardinal of some kind, which in and of its self I find strangely appropriate, my foster parents inquire as to the location of the Stellar Phoenix. When at last our destination is clear, we proceed down the long row of ships. There are all manner of them, stout, blocky freighters, long, slender interceptors, graceful but heavily armored gun ships, pockmarked with weapon ports, as well as old battle scars, even one immense cruiser, probably belonging to some dignitary.

After some time, my foster parents finally stop in front of a small red ship. It's a fighter of some indistinct make, with a shape similar to a greatly elongated arrowhead, but a bit truncated near the tip, which extends quite a ways beyond the bridge, and I note with some apprehension, is no less than the muzzle of one massive cannon. Of course, I can't yet tell exactly what manner of weapon it is. The name Stellar Phoenix is elegantly painted across one side of the ship, and I note that it's sleek but heavy armor looks a touch battered, marked by minor scratches and scorings.

"Well, this is it," my foster father announces, "I will see if anyone's home...though knowing Stormkeeper..."

He trails off and leaps up onto the nose of the ship, knocking on the bridge windows before hopping back down, landing lightly in the weak gravity of the asteroid. There is a bit of a pause, then a short ramp lowers from beneath the bridge. A tall, gray and white hippogryph struts down the ramp, hooves sounding softly. He is wearing a simple, baggy pair of red pants, and an odd set of armor over his torso, from which has been suspended a short black cape, which trails down between his wings, ending shortly above his neatly groomed and partially wrapped black tail. One of his ears is pierced and fitted with a large gold ring and his long, black mane is tied back neatly, and abruptly, I notice the large weapon belt and holster he is wearing. The holster its self contains a large pistol of some sort, which by its strange, heavy, segmented barrel, can only be a caster. The belt holds a number of gleaming brass cartridges, each marked with an odd rune. Overall, he carries himself with a kind of pride, which borders on arrogance.

He looks my foster sister and I over carefully, his gaze lingering on me a bit, clearly finding my appearance odd.

After a few long moments, he finally turns to me again, "So you're supposed to be a mage of some sort then yes?"

His voice is light, rather young sounding, but his age is impossible to determine.

"Yes," I reply.

He sighs a bit, "Well, you're the only one who has even showed up for an interview, and I'm tired of waiting." he pauses, regarding Moonsong for a moment, then nods." The young lady seems strong enough as well."

My foster father chuckles slightly, "I should hope so, I did train her myself after all."

This comes as another complete surprise, I never knew he could fight.

The hippogryph looks back to me, then smiles, "As for you, I suppose I'll have to pay for some proper equipment."

I sigh inwardly and try not to appear too relieved. He came off as almost stuck up initially and it is a distinct relief that he is not.

"I suppose I should show you to your quarters, we will see to your personal effects after you've gotten settled in. Just remember, there isn't room for much, so keep it simple."

"That won't be a problem for me," I reply, "My sister on the other hand..."

Moonsong growls softly, the goggles not completely hiding the fact that she is blushing.

After a short exchange of pleasantries between Stormkeeper and my foster parents, Moonsong and I proceed onto the ship, finding that I am to be housed separately, while she will be sharing a room with Stormkeeper's partner Windblade. The room is small, what one would consider cramped really, and is one of the three separate rooms, but there is enough room for my personal effects, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem...I can only wonder how much Moonsong will be leaving behind. Other than the size however, the room is adequate in every other way; the bed is comfortable enough and the lighting is sufficient for reading and such.

When at last, everything is in its proper place, we exchange last good-byes with our parents, then head out into the city in search of supplies; mainly proper armor and clothing for myself, but Moonsong shows no sign of objecting. Windblade does not come; she seems rather set on having some time to herself, plus there seems to be some other edge of friction over the prospect, which I cannot identify, and politely refrain from asking about.

Moonsong simply seems glad to be out seeing the city, which probably has something to do with the fact that she anticipates a meal being involved somewhere along the way. Stormkeeper seems rather pleased with the situation, more so than he let on initially at any rate and strides out in front of our little precession as we walk through the downtown section of the city. This place is fairly typical, from what little I have seen of these colonies. Granted, the whole place is known to be popular among freelancers, but all manner of other ships stop here as well due to its location, on the outskirts of the Avalon system.

Presently, I notice the appearance of the surrounding area is changing distinctly; we seem to be heading into a different part of town.

Where are we going?" I query.

"Down-town is the general section of town, it's made to be accessible and useful to all of the more common races as well as mythics." Stormkeeper replies without turning around, "we are headed to the mythic section, your more likely to find what you need there than anywhere else."

I nod and we continue onward. The part of town we are entering now seems, at least as far as I am concerned, much more interesting than the downtown area. It's as if there is something in the very energy of the place that makes it seem more...exotic. It also seems more promising in terms of mystical artifacts and the like, where as downtown is more mainstream and thus, more concerned with technology than anything else. Mythics and freelancers in general tend to combine the two more often, although some things, such as caster shells or blaster shells in general, cannot function without the mystical forces necessary to contain, sustain, and in the case of casters, generate the desired energy.

* * * *

Windchaser sighs softly and looks to his mate uneasily, "Do you think they will be alright?"

She hushes him softly, "Yes, I am sure. Please love, do try not to worry."

He looks at the floor between his taloned feet pensively, "I just can't help worrying, by blood and not, they are both my children."

She nods silently and nuzzles him softly, purring slightly.

"That isn't the only thing I worry about you know..." he continues, "Starwind worries me as well. How will she handle her sister being gone?"

Lightwing chuckles, "She doesn't want to go. You know her, she likes a stable environment, and the ship of a freelancer captain is not the kind of place for someone like her."

He nods but still looks troubled.

"Its not just that they left, is it love?" his mate queries.

"Well...no, its not." he replies.

"Then what is it?" the emerald dragoness coaxes sweetly.

"Well..." the male begins to blush heavily, "You know those...books that you always tease me about?"

She giggles softly, "The ones with all the pictures of nude dragonesses and nearly no words?"

"Yes, those." He replies, a bit reluctantly, "two of them are missing. Now I know very well Moonsong didn't take them, she has always been interested in young males, and I am fairly certain Thaenrathi did not take them either, as he has said repeatedly that he doesn't want to even contemplate his preferences until he's found his own people...and well...Starwind has been in her lair for most of the day with the door locked..."

His mate chuckles softly, "Oh, so you think our daughter likes other ladies hmm?"

Windchaser nods and looks even more uncomfortable.

"And why should this worry you?" Lightwing queries, suppressing more giggles, "you like lady dragons after all."

"Well, that may be but..." he pauses, fumbling for words, "how am I supposed to relate to that?"

His mate finally can no longer contain herself and bursts out laughing loudly.

"But love, its not funny at all, this really worries me!" he nearly whines.

"Just treat her..." she pauses, overtaken by another fit of giggles, "a bit more like another male and you'll do fine!"

"Yes, but how am I supposed to do that?"

"If you see a picture of a beautiful dragoness, or see one while in public, casually ask her what she thinks of the other dragoness." she replies.

"I just don't see why it should get so difficult now that they are nearly out of the nest." He rumbles.

"It is more difficult because they are getting more complicated. Now don't worry about it, I will talk to her about her preferences." she purrs sweetly, "besides, I told you that I experimented with that once, didn't I?"

He nearly chokes, "You did? When?"

"It was before I met you love. I was only twenty-two and I was curios about one of the other dragonesses in the class I was taking, so one night, I took her up on her offer." she replies with a chuckle, "If I were still looking for a mate, I wouldn't limit myself to males alone...but since I am not, that ends the discussion on that matter I think."

Before he can come up with a reply, she kisses him and knocks him onto his back, purring before breaking the kiss, "Now stop worrying you silly thing...if our little one wants to take another lady for a mate, I for one am not going to begrudge her that; my main concern is that she is happy."

Her mate looks at the floor again, "I'd still like to get those books back..."

She chuckles and swats him on the rump, "I will get you some more tomorrow love. In he mean time, we should try and relax."

"I suppose your right." He sighs and lays down in the nest with his mate, intent on doing just that.

* * * *

I sigh in exasperation, leaning against the wall of the clothing store, the long, red duster coat which I have just acquired hanging more than half way down my shins. The reason for my irritation is the fact that Moonsong seems intent on buying a new cape to go with her armor, which wouldn't be a problem really if she could simply decide which one she wants. There are three that she has her eyes on and she has gone through the whole production of trying each one on, then coming out to have it appraised by Stormkeeper and myself at twice already. We are by now, both of the opinion that she should have been able to decide by now, but capes seem to be one of her fixations.

"If she does this one more time I'm just going to buy all three of them." the hippogryph snorts.

Besides the duster coat, I have also been equipped with a black, brimmed hat of the same material as the coat, a tactical armor vest, as well as a caster pistol and cartridge belt. I also decided that sunglasses are more or less unnecessary with eyes like mine, that is to say, that I should use them to my advantage instead of hiding them. Stormkeeper insisted upon this on the grounds that he doesn't trust me to be capable of defending myself with my sorcery alone. He is almost certainly correct in his assumption of course, and I must admit, it is a fine weapon. The barrel is silver and separated into four heavy segments, as always, each inlayed with a ring of some energetic crystal, and a larger ring surrounding the shell activation chamber. The rest of the weapon is covered in a delicate latticework of runic sigils, symbols, and connecting lines. As he explained it, this particular weapon is designed specifically for use by mages; it allows the user to add a great deal of power to the reaction and thus, is several order of magnitude more powerful than the standard design he carries.

Presently, Moonsong exits the dressing room for the seventh time, this time however, she is holding one cape, a long colorful one with many blues and reds on it, and the remaining two over her other arm. It is apparent that she has made her decision.

We both sigh with relief as Stormkeeper makes his way to the counter to pay for the clothing. Once this has been concluded of course, Moonsong states in no uncertain terms that she expects to be provided with dinner out. The hippogryph is, of course, happy enough to provide for that, the only debate is over location. My foster sister wants to go somewhere classy, and preferably rather flamboyant, rather gaudy even, knowing her temperament. The captain on the other hand, or talon in his case, clearly has other plans, for we quickly find ourselves outside what, by the sign, is evidently a strip bar of some kind.

"No." my foster sister asserts, glaring acidly from behind her goggles, "Absolutely not. I won't eat at some sleazy strip club."

The hippogryph simply shrugs his wings and replies innocently, "Scythe's place is the classiest place in this part of town. It's a different kind of classy, but that doesn't detract from anything. All the dancers, male and female, are perfect specimens of their breeds, and the food and drink are excellent."

Moonsong glares obstinately, "Fine, but you better show some kind of manners. I won't stay here with you if you start making passes at everything with the right curves."

I am forced to choke back a scoff at this comment; that Moonsong of all people, Moonsong who has never once bothered to knock before coming into my room, Moonsong who continually used to complain bitterly about the what was being served at the dinner table, should be talking of manners is very nearly laughable. She is also a rather shameless flirt, but I keep my mouth shut as we enter through the tall, heavy doors. The place is a din of activity inside, filled with odd music and the voices of many people, male, female, and otherwise. The lighting is suitably dim, with the usual mood lighting found in such places, and there is a rather pleasant smell of food from inside...as well as other things. I notice that the floor is made of tiles of some hard, polished black stone, probably cut from large chunks of meteorite. The stage is large, with a runway separating it neatly down the middle. To one side of this is a bar with a large saurian behind it, serving drinks. The crowd present makes my own personal oddities seem rather trivial. Nearly everyone has some sort of weapon, from swords and knives to what appears to be a large, double-barreled, rifle version of the weapon I carry; it sits at a table next to its owner, who appears to be an anthropomorphic tyrannosaur, dressed in a long coat, similar to my own.

At Moonsong's instance, we take a seat in a large booth as far away from the stage as we possibly can, and presently, a waitress struts over to our table. She is a dragon, of some large, anthropomorphic species, and perhaps the most shocking thing about her is the fact that, though she is wearing very short skirt and bikini top, nothing of her anatomy is actually hidden as such; the clothes are quite see-through.

While I am left speechless and gawking, not so much from the display the dragoness is making, but from the utter size and apparent strength of her build, the captain orders for us, insisting on the house special...which is apparently some sort of spicy meat dish, of an apparently draconic origin, which I have never heard of. As a matter of fact, it proves to be quite good, and although there is too much of it for my liking, Moonsong opts to have it packaged for a late night snack.

By the time we finally make it back to the ship, I can do little more than collapse into bed, where I quickly fall asleep.