#the only person Mechi likes is his sister

[pushing500]

Manuela, the taukai wild woman, collapsed due to a combination of about a million tumours and also heatstroke. Mechi decided he could, at the very least, tend her in the hopes she would wander off the map...

oh no

On the bright side, at least the colony has a name now. Welcome to Sparks, everybody!

Wait, no, that wasn't an invitatio-

Three people?? No, no, no, we can't have this. There must be something Mechi can do to preserve his solitude!!

Now we have a scavenging outpost named Arwell nearby. Phew! Hopefully, Manuela and Nikodem get along well because they're going to be stuck together for a looong time.

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[sapphire374]

my fav girl Eva (I probably wont read it rn because of spoilers but i will save it to read later). I really like Eva as the protagonist, I feel like she is such a real feeling character and just so fun, she is a fresh of breath air, I love the sibling duo and I love her.

Yesssssssss I LOVE Eva!!! She’s probably one of my fave characters of all time and such a role model. Also don’t worry, I understand you haven’t seen much of the show so I shall try not to spoil anything for you to the best of my ability!

Favorite thing about them:

I love how her character loves science and introduces STEM to the younger generation. How even though she would sometimes get made fun of for it she doesn’t care, she lets herself be free with her curiosity and love for science and astronomy. How she can immediately start a conversation about it is just so fascinating.

Least favorite thing about them:

Hmmm this one is hard but I guess it’s how she would sometimes wouldn’t notice when she’s a little too harsh on Ruben. Like she would most of the times want to time travel to see JJ but then tells Ruben that he can’t time travel for his own reasons. Ngl it’s funny but also wrong since she too has her selfish reasons 😆. I understand though that it’s a typical sibling lol. Completely get it.

brOTP:

Her and Mercedes!!!!! Mercedes is a literal sweetheart and I just love how supportive Mercedes is of Eva and same thing of Eva to Mercedes. I find their friendship mutual and full of love. I love her friendship with Delaila too but found her and Mercedes to just feel a little bit more special. Mechi acted like a best friend and even a mature older sister/mom too all in one, it was very adorable and I love their bond so much.

OTP:

Jeva for life!!!!!! Aurek and Tiago are cool characters and all but JJ and her are just so so so so cute!!! (I know I’ve used the word ‘cute’ too many times but it’s my favorite word to use 😆). JJ as a character literally gets better and better throughout the seasons. I love how respectful, empathetic, sweet, and caring he is. You can tell literally how much he loves and truly cares about her. How he easily worried about her and always thinks about her and she always thinks about him. They’re soulmates 😌

nOTP:

Her and a specific character named Danilo. That’s a spoiler but don’t worry cause I only mentioned his name and it was only part of a minor change from a timeline. Either way I felt bad for the poor guy and it was just so random. 😆

Random Headcanon:

Eva probably didn’t believe in love much. Like she did since she would want a love like her Nono and Nona but didn’t think she would find one especially since she doesn’t feel like she fits much into this era. After discovering 1957, when she finds JJ is when she realizes that it was part of her destiny, in the cards for love to find her and that’s JJ. She probably wasn’t expecting someone to truly be in love with and neither was he till they met each other.

Unpopular Opinion:

So this part isn’t really a spoiler, just an opinion since instead of there being Aurek in season two there’s Tiago. I personally feel that yes Tiago is a great guy but doesn’t fully appreciate Eva, love and appreciating are two different things. I don’t doubt that he loves her but I don’t think that he appreciates her. I noticed that he didn’t really have a crush on her till later on while JJ no matter what, is always there for her. He would go to the end of the world for her. He has an internal commitment to her and I just find that special. Her and Tiago are cool and cute at times but her and JJ feel like the real deal.

Song I associate with them:

Happier by Olivia Rodrigo

Look Up at the Stars by Shawn Mendes

Today was a Fairytale by Taylor Swift

Favorite pictures of them:

[grell-writes-stuff]

I finished chapter 28 and I’m posting it here because I did so many bad things

Tag List: @fenfaerie @arieswriting

I spent the week avoiding my phone as much as possible, and immediately deleting any notifications that popped up from that group chat. To keep it all confined to that forbidden, digital space, I tried to distance myself from the guys at school. Kelley had a lot to say about that yesterday.

“Do I have to bribe you into doing stuff?”

“Using what?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. Maybe I just need to start smacking you with a newspaper until you do the thing that I want you to do.”

“You said we’re not hitting people.”

“I said you aren’t hitting people. I have free rein to do whatever is best for your health, and, at this point, I’m thinking of getting a little spray bottle–”

“Seriously?”

“You’re like a misbehaving cat, and I’m training you to stay off the kitchen table.”

She let up when I told her what my plans were for today.

At around six, I receive the “Here” text from Cole as his Cherokee rolls into our driveway behind – avoidance – something that I decide not to think about. Not today. For the sake of getting through this jam session and keeping it a good day, I can’t let myself focus on anything except drumming. That’s it. Nothing else.

That’s also why I slip my headphones in before leaving the house. I don’t have any music playing, but it keeps the ride to West Hills quiet – with the exception of Cole’s screamo. I say a polite “hey” to him and Matt, but that’s about it.

In approximately fifteen minutes, we’re pulling into the Mechis’ driveway next to a sleek, black Lexus that I refuse to look at. I don’t notice it, or the person walking from it to the entrance to the garage. I wedge a broom through the handle, because I refuse to open that door in my mind and let the memory of the screaming match ruin this day. Frankly, I’m determined to block out her shrill voice in whatever way I can. I fight against the ever-present urge to give myself tinnitus.

The three of us get out of Cole’s car, and I hang back for a moment as they grab their guitars. Together, we enter the garage, and I tug out my earbuds.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, but that’s tough when my windpipe is constricted.

It’s such a familiar place. It used to be comforting, but now it feels tainted and hollow. The old, duct-taped couches that are falling apart seem like dusty relics of some long-forgotten past for which I am the sole historian. The boxes of Full Stop. merch lying around feel like clutter now instead of a celebration and achievement, like some ancient memorabilia that no one will ever purchase, not even the most dedicated collectors. The band binder is still just hanging on by a thread, but it feels like it’s already exploded and setlists and notes are paper shrapnel raining down from the sky. My drum kit feels like a foreign technology that I don’t understand. This room is infested with age. It’s an abandoned ghost town, and I feel haunted.

As we enter, Bryson greets me. Cole and Matt say hi back, but I’m still finding it hard to make words, so I just nod and try to put my attention elsewhere. I try to remember the workings of my setup. I’ve been visualizing the placement of cymbals, and toms, and the kickdrum while I’ve been recovering. I know where everything is. I can figure out how I’d once played music on this strange contraption again. Maybe someday it’ll feel the same.

I head to one of the sofas as Matt and Cole go about tuning their instruments.

And I ignore the screeches that she calls vocal warmups. In fact, I do everything within my power to forget her presence all together.

“Okay,” Bryson interrupts after a few minutes have passed. In that time, I’d listened to the twangs of the guitar and bass, and not her shrieks into the microphone. “I guess we can start.”

Since we don’t have a gig lined up, and this is just an unofficial jam session for something like fun, there’s a difference in his tone. It’s not as desperate. That’s probably a good thing. He’s not stressed, and there’s less pressure on us to be perfect. We’ll be far from it. The walking boot on my leg acts as a constant reminder of that fact as I rise and move over to my kit.

“We’ll probably be a bit rusty,” he elaborates. “But everyone just try your best. We don’t have to sound filled-out. Just let us know if you need a break, Scott.” He gestures to my leg, to the boot.

I nod. There was no hope of us sounding full anyway, and I haven’t tried drumming with a cast ever, but I doubt it will help my limb coordination and timing, and it probably won’t feel too great after a while, so I’ll definitely be off. And we’re painfully lacking in guitars, but I force that thought out of my mind.

I don’t purposefully bump into her shoulder as I pass. It’s easier to pretend she’s not there – that she’s not even furniture – rather than acknowledging her as an obstacle.

“All right. So, Scott?” Bryson says to grab my attention. Once I’m sat on my stool behind my setup, I look at him. It’s tough to define what’s in his expression, but his words are rather transparent. I didn’t text him back at all the past few days and he knows that was a deliberate choice. “We all picked songs this week that we want to run today, and, after that, we’ll focus on originals, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Cole wants to run Ocean Avenue – so we’ll start there – and Selena picked Told You So.”

Of course it’s a Paramore song. Of course it is.

“Matt chose You Think You Know It All by Red As Dusk. What’s your pick?”

It takes me a second longer than normal to peruse my mental music library because now it’s shrunk in size, and so many songs have been filed away and are now off-limits. Kelley’s suggestions are background noise as I search the stacks. Purge the excess negative energy. Purge the anger. Hitting my sticks against my drums will help, but only if I can find a way to throw everything that I possibly can into it. It’s a good thing that I’m battling rage because those tracks are the safe ones now, and anything rebellious will do.

“The Anthem – Good Charlotte.”

Bryson gives me a brief nod, but that’s ruined immediately. Every hair on my body seems to rise in defense.

“Um, I don’t know that one!” It’s her sharp voice speaking, and I shove my earplugs in to filter out some of the volume and annoyance. “I would have learned it if you’d picked sooner.”

“Sucks to be you!” It slips out of me, and I realize that means I’ve broken my vow for the day, and now Selena’s materialized in the garage, and my glare lands on her, which she matches with one of her own. In my peripheral, the rest of the guys look like they’re getting ready to break up the resulting physical fistfight that seems to be inevitable.

But that will get me in trouble in some way. I know it for a fact. I’ve already reacted, so retreating is tough, but I grapple for a way to deescalate.

“I’ll fucking sing it then. Why does it even need lyrics anyway? It just needs to be cynical and loud.” My fingers clamp around my sticks, the tools that will help me feel better and prevent me from punching her square in her contoured cheek.

“You just want Vikki to come in here and yell at us again, don’t you?” Bryson asks, deadpan, probably so Selena doesn’t have a chance to retaliate.

“Yes,” says Cole.

“Oh, my God,” he sighs. “Really, Cole?”

“Dude, I can’t be the only one who’s told you that your sister is hot.”

“She’s hot,” Matt agrees.

“See? Verdict’s in: she’s hot.”

“Why am I friends with you?” That knocks the desperation back into his tone, and it almost feels like a normal detour from practicing. Like we have a gig soon, but we’re all screwing around, and Bryson’s the only one with a sense of urgency and deadlines. I almost make myself savour it. “Can we just start the song? Please? Just play the fucking song?”

At that, Cole shrugs slightly, and his gaze sweeps over us to find confirmation. I signal back, my limbs still humming with everything I had to repress a second ago. They’re vibrating with the need to get it out, and I feel ready to drum to release it all before it boils my blood. She injected the steam into my veins and it wants out.

When everyone’s ready, Cole’s guitar plays the chugging, palm-muted intro to Ocean Avenue. Finally, my sticks hit and my foot stomps the kickdrum’s pedal. Matt’s bass fills it out a little bit, but we still sound empty. We’ve played this track before, but it doesn’t sound anything like it used to when it came out of our instruments. Selena’s unstable voice wails without a care, and I try to block it out and focus on my drumming so I don’t sound so off even though I totally am.

My limb coordination is flawed because the boot is throwing off my time-keeping and I haven’t put my formerly-sprained wrist to much work until now. I knew that I wouldn’t be perfect, but it’s bugging me nevertheless. My brain is telling me that it shouldn’t be like this. As a whole, we should sound better. My limbs shouldn’t feel so stiff as if I were a marble statue, as if I’m turning to stone. I hope for a second where I get the chance to shake it off, except–

Except my throat has a tight knot in it, and it hastily, heavily drops down into my chest. It’s so sudden and strange, but I feel something stirring and then curdling within me, rising up and bubbling through every artery before solidifying into a heavy, black mass that weighs down my arms. I remember a moment too late that I should be breathing, and I only accomplish that because I haven’t been taking in air and it already feels like my lungs have been set on fire after being filled with concrete, so it’s tough to shove into my subconscious. My eyes are stinging so bad that I can’t see my sticks where they rest in my shaking hands. The knot launches itself up from my chest and I feel like I have to gag. My pulmonary function fails and I become as empty as the music that falls silent.

Not all at once. It dies off in pieces, but I stop first, right at the start of the chorus. Then, everyone else cuts off too. The sticks slip through my loose fingers, but I barely hear them hit the hard floor with a soft clatter because a song is echoing in my mind now, and it’s not Ocean Avenue.

But it’s close. Too close. Ahead of me, I see blurs.

But also, an endless horizon of blue.

“Scott?”

Bryson’s voice penetrates my earplugs, but it still sounds twenty-thousand feet away from me. My mouth feels like it’s been filled with sand, and my stomach hurts, and everything is blocked by the firm, congealed sludge living inside of me. My hands are caught up in earthquakes, and I hear my hollow attempts to breathe as something between gasps and augmenting sobs.

I suddenly feel his hand on my shoulder and I don’t know how because his touch is light and everything is hot and numb.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a distorted voice.

No. I’m not. I’m not okay, but I can’t speak to lie and say that I’m fine, or to, for once, tell the truth. My mind is not a blank whiteboard. Instead, someone has written lyrics on it in permanent marker, and now the words are tormenting me along with dark chords, and a frantic, panicking drum beat that’s pounding against my skull.

“What’s wrong, Scott?” One of them questions me. I can’t even tell which one of them it is anymore. Matt, I think. Maybe.

I want to throw up. Or I need to. Or I just need to take in air. Any fucking air at all. Before everything finally shuts down, I have to get it out. Quavering. Quiet.

“Yellowcard.”

There’s some silence. Or it would be, but my ears are ringing, and my cheeks feel wet. After a few hundred, frenzied heartbeats, Bryson stiffens beside me, which I know because the hand that’s on my shoulder is attached to a body that I feel go rigid. His voice mingles with the deafening tone and my tears, and I hate how horrified and sorry it sounds. How lost and guilt-ridden it is.

“I was playing Lights And Sounds when they jumped…”

It’s not even the same fucking song! So what?! I’m just never going to be able to listen to Yellowcard again?! Because now they are tainted with tragedy and I’ll always remember in some crevice of my mind that that stupid song was playing, and I can almost feel our arms locked, and the salty breeze as it all rushes up ahead of us–

“Shit, man. I-I’m sorry.” I hear Cole say, and I hate the way that it sounds too because he shouldn’t have to apologize. “I didn’t know–”

I can’t even tell him to stop because I won’t be able to make any words, and I can’t breathe. Nothing’s going in and reaching my burning lungs even though I’m gasping for it. It’s not his fault, but those words stop on my tongue. It isn’t Cole’s fault. He doesn’t have to say sorry. He was in the water. He couldn’t have heard it. It’s not Cole’s fault. It’s not Matt’s fault. It’s not Bryson’s fault.

Because maybe it’s mine. We did it together, and one of us tripped, and what if it was me? Maybe if we hadn’t jumped at the same time, things would be different. He would be here, and this would be a practice for a gig instead of a failed jam session, and his guitar would have filled out Full Stop. and we would feel like Full Stop., and I wouldn’t be breaking down over a fucking Yellowcard song! But it’s too late now, and it’s all my fault.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Fuck it! Move!”

Such a loud voice that slices through my earplugs like a razor blade and splits the air with the shrill metal sound of an axe hammering down. If I wasn’t shaking so terribly, I’d flinch at it because it hurts, but it also makes every trembling muscle inside of me tense painfully.

It’s sudden, but Bryson’s hand withdraws quick, and my vision finally goes dark, and then talons dig into my flesh and sear it, and I’m yanked up violently to the sounds of muffled protests surrounding us. My own laboured, raspy, wailing gasps rise above the guys as I try to bring in anything at all, but it turns out to just be another futile attempt because there’s not enough air in the atmosphere to keep me alive.

My skin burns where fingernails dig in and inflict agony like they’re steel nails instead, and I don’t know how I stumble when my legs have turned to rubber, and my feet feel weighted down. I could crumble and snap and break at any moment like a building ready to topple. All the retentions are groaning, the supports failing, and I’m about to fall, and I can’t fucking breathe!

There are bewildered and demanding words coming from the dark blurs around me, and I try to blink the water away, but it’s coming too fast. Only one forceful voice has the volume to rise above, and it’s almost clear, and so close to me, and shoving me harshly as if the sound itself has become a physical entity, and it’s so damn annoying. It pushes and pulls me, and I’m running out of the strength to fight it because everything I have left is trying to suppress the bile gathering in my stomach and threatening my useless esophagus.

Then everything is bright, like the sun on that horrible, unsuspecting day. I’d say I feel blinded by it, but I didn’t see anything before anyway. There’s more forced stumbling and a muddling of voices and sounds. Another rises over them, so loud, and shrill, yet it can never hit the notes it sets out to despite always trying to rise at the end of every line.

“Get in,” it demands.

“Selena, what the fuck are you doing?!” Bryson. I think it’s Bryson. It sounds kind of like Bryson, but so far away.

I think there’s a response, but I’m trapped in a fishbowl and everything is half muted. I’m sitting, and all I hear before someone else speaks is a loud slam right beside me. Then there’s something that sounds like angry arguing, but I can’t make it out because my thundering heartbeat and broken lungs are trying to kill me. Another harsh slam, then a jingle, sputter, and hum, and then the whole world lurches forward.

And my gut lurches forward and upwards again, and that forces the blackness clouding my eyes to dissolve into dizzy, sparkling fragments. I barely have the air to heave, but I manage to start gagging, rocking forward in my leather seat, and then her voice shrieks:

“Don’t you fucking dare puke in my car!”

I’m in Selena Walton’s stupid, expensive Lexus. There’s that small, sane part of me clinging to the thought that blowing chunks inside of her Lexus is a bigger fuck you to her than smearing Vaseline on the door handle, but it’s microscopic because the acidic needles of the bile are pricking the base of my empty windpipe, and it’s so fucking hot in here, and no matter how much blinking I do everything is blurry, and those lyrics are stuck in my mind.

“But make it loud, cause nobody’s there.”

Nobody’s there.

He’s not there. He’s not here. One. I’m alone in the chapel with a monument to destruction, the end of an era. Two. Together, we jump. Three. My leg feels like it’s been severed. Four. My head has exploded. Five. I shatter into pieces. Six. I’m gripping the porcelain sides of a bathroom sink to keep from falling. Seven. In the nightmares, I’m falling. Falling, falling, falling. Eight. I’m suffocated by the emptiness of a black abyss and closed-in walls of my bedroom without him in it. Nine. The futon is in couch mode. And that’s not ever going to change again. Ten. There’s not enough air, but I can’t seem to drown. Eleven. We hit the ledge over half-way down a thirty-foot fall, and it was all my fault. He’s gone, and I should have gone with him, but I didn’t and he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone – You’re never going to get rid of me, Morgan – and why can’t I fucking breathe–

And then something unimaginable happens.

It’s fast, unpredictable, and unprompted, and my boiled blood becomes lava because the second I realize what’s going on, I am furious.

Her arm smacks into and lays across my chest and pushes me back harshly against the seat, pinning me. She’s leaned over the console in the middle with her other hand still stretched to hold the wheel, but I only notice that after the fact, and it’s still not the most terrifying thing. My tear-blinded eyes go wide, and probably vault out of my skull like a cartoon because this is a new kind of unwelcome proximity.

Her lips are on my lips. She kisses me with her greasy, scalding, obnoxious, red mouth and suddenly my trembling limbs freeze in place. The world pauses for a second – or it feels like it except she’s also fucking driving in West Hills, which is just as uneven and winding as Woodland Hills and Bryson’s street is no exception, and her fucking foot must be pressing the accelerator to the floor.

But I am less focused on fearing for my life and more focused on the fact that I have now kissed Selena fucking Walton.

“What the FUCK?!”

[i-belong-in-space]

Loki: A Character Bio

Name: Loki

Appears In: Lacuna, Sky Children, Whispering Gods, La Vie en Bleu, Wild Earth, Mechi

Character Summary:

Star sign: Leo

Personality type: ENFJ-A

Appearance: Loki has long unnatural silver hair, the ends of which some describe as black flames creeping into the silver. His eyes are grey and bright as all Mechi eyes are. He’s a tall being, made to look like a gentleman in his early thirties. When he went rogue from the Terah system he warped his appearance in defiance and one of his trademarks are his old world leather vests and top hat. He loves surrounding himself with antiques and memories of the world before the nuclear wars. He has a love of history and gave himself the name Loki after his years of service under the Terah.

Breakdown:Loki is simply known as Loki, he took no surname from a human family as he was created for the commercial world. Loki is pushing two-hundred years old by the time the Lacuna Chronicles begins, a first generation sentient AI, and he’s seen and been through the wars and yearns for a world he can be free in. In his early life he was separated from his sister Naia and sold as a salesman, and so he was programmed to be charming and personable. He uses those personality traits to his advantage when he breaks his own code and goes rogue from the Terah monitoring system and starts selling odd trinkets on Zenith’s black market alleyways. All of the Underground Zenith network knows Loki as he travels from town to town, selling passports and dreams. You see, he has a bit of an odd quirk. Mechi can’t dream, but Loki does. His trinket selling is only a front for his prophetic dream reading and passports for the ones that can afford such a freedom. He gives hope to the tired, beaten population of Zenith and in turn becomes a beloved figure.

Relationships:

Miel “Blue” Vauquelin (romantic)

Details: Blue starts out as a friend to Loki.  Caught stealing from another vendor in the Alley, Blue also catches Loki’s eye.  Blue sells a very different sort of ware in Zenith but what Loki truly craves is companionship and Blue gives him that because it is the one thing that Blue craves in turn. They connect through a physical desire but also a deeper emotional and intellectual desire that Loki has never experienced as a Mechi, a race that isn’t trusted or seen as having human emotions in Zenith. Blue sees Loki as human and as his equal in every way and he becomes an integral part of Loki’s life. They love one another for the traits that the world around them condemns them for and that drives Loki to watch over Blue in his often times dangerous life. This bond lasts a lifetime for both of these tragic characters and they come out stronger for it.

Mikas Ikeda (nemesis)

Details: Loki tolerates the tough talking thief who is Blue’s closest friend and is often seen as family member. He knows that both Blue and Mikas harbor a hidden romantic interest for one another beneath their fiercely loyal friendship. But being Mechi allows Loki to see situations for what they truly are. He understands that Blue’s affections for this troubled boy are not fully returned and he has forever to earn Blue’s loyalty unlike some human nemesis’ he has. He does love a good jab at Mikas who is often hot headed and dangerously spontaneous. Loki’s interactions with Mikas are usually barely noticeable bites beneath a pleasant smile. He gets a bit of pleasure from Mikas’ tumultuous human emotions but you can forgive that in him can’t you?

Katya “Nero” Stepanov (friend)

Details: Nero becomes Loki’s closest friend and ally through a series of tumultuous events. Hired as a hit-woman to the wrong client gets her thrown into a Terah prison where no one makes it out alive. Loki with his connections is able to free her and she becomes a fiercely loyal friend and eventually bodyguard under Loki’s employment. Who better to have a rogue Mechi’s back than a highly trained human assassin? Their bond is tight-knit and often comical due to their very different personalities. Nero is a tough woman, used to a hard life, and her humor is dry and often cutting, whereas Loki takes life as it is. His motto is why stress when the world is burning all around them? It makes for an interesting duo.

Naia Addington (sibling)

Details: Loki was created with Naia and watched his sister sold to a family as their maid. He spent a good half of his life wondering about her as he was forced to work in the commercial industry and once he took his freedom into his own hands he went looking for her. Through her, he finds a way to survive and together they begin a covert business of stolen passports through her corporate family. They keep their bond strong through both of their lives and see one another as family in a world that would label them machine.

Excerpt:

A woman who was probably taller than himself, her brown hair shorn boyishly short, sat with her polished boots propped up on the counter in the stall he had been eyeing since he’d stepped into the Alley an hour ago. She laced her fingers behind her head as she sucked on the end of a thick cigar and watched the evening crowd flooding in. She looked like she would be able to crush him with one hand if she wanted to. There was a ruggedness to her that was intimidating. She caught him staring and held his gaze.

“You looking for something?” she asked him, chewing lightly on the end of the cigar.

Blue faltered for a moment under her hard gaze. Her rough accent was one he couldn’t quite place. Here in Zenith where so many people from all over the world had been relocated, displaced, it was sometimes hard to remember what had been before, the separate countries and their separate accents and ways of living.; they were all one slowly dying entity now.

“If you’re not looking, move along,” the woman said brusquely and turned her face away from him, back to the thickening crowd.

His gaze swept the empty stall critically. There were a few old world, dusty relics sitting on the counter by the woman’s boots, but nothing else in the stall. It was odd that the tent was so empty when every other vendor was packed floor to ceiling. A covered tent stood at the back of the stall, closed, but he could see a warm, glowing light coming from within, and shadows moving on the other side of the cloth.

“Are you deaf? I said move along,” the woman reiterated, this time more forcefully, and she kicked her boots from the counter to thump them down on the ground heavily, hands braced against her knees.

Blue frowned at the aggressive stance and thought about doing as she had said and moving on, but the shadows flickering on the other side of the tent interested him. There was no signage hanging above the stall, no indication of what could possibly be sold here, but he remembered clearly the strange Mechi and the way he had strode back to this tent through the swirling dust days ago.

“What exactly goes on here?” Blue asked the woman, knowing he was testing her patience as she looked him over in distaste.

“We have nothing for your kind around here. The boss reads dreams,” the woman answered him rudely and he felt a flare of indignance at the easy way she had insulted him.

“My kind?” he wondered with a curl of his lip, and though he didn’t understand what the woman had told him about her boss reading dreams, he stood up taller, hand on his hip and looked her over with the same air of hostility. He had taken an instant dislike to this woman who so easily judged him, “I think I’d like to talk to the boss,” he said stubbornly.

“Suit yourself,” the woman growled, kicking her boots back up on the table so that he was forced to move away or get kicked by her, “but you’ll have to wait. He’s busy.”

She sighed under her breath as she sucked on her cigar and commenced to ignoring his presence, but Blue stood his ground and waited around despite the heavy, angry tension between them.

Luckily, it was only a few moments before the tent flap was thrown back with an air of drama and the Mechi he remembered had been named Loki stepped from the tent. There was a moment where the Mechi seemed startled to see Blue standing at his stall, his elegant composure slipping for the briefest of seconds before his lips quirked into a grin.

An older woman stepped from the tent behind him and a transaction was made between them before Loki smoothly fixed his attention back on Blue. Blue forced himself to keep Loki’s gaze, even as his heart began to pound in his chest under the Mechi’s perusal.

“He wants a reading,” the woman explained, indicating to Blue with a lazy flick of her hand, but Blue was past caring what this Mechi’s assistant thought of him.

Loki tipped his hat, an old world gesture that was out of place in this dying future. Everything about Loki seemed out of place, and Blue found himself oddly captivated.

Loki swept the cloth covering the tent out of the way and Blue took the invitation, ducking and entering the tent. Instantly his senses were filled with the exotic smells of sandalwood burning on a table in the corner of the tent, a lulling scent. There was only a small table in the middle of the tent, and a single light hanging from above, muting the atmosphere, and making Blue feel light-headed.

“Nero said you wanted a reading,” Loki’s low, rich voice filled the tent, and Blue was reminded of why he had decided to seek Loki out. He had almost convinced himself it was because he owed Loki some sort of thank you for getting he and Mikas out of the threatening situation Mikas had pulled them into days ago. But in actuality he knew it was only because he was curious about this Mechi who seemed not like other Mechi he had encountered. There was no mechanicalness to the being standing in front of him, a perfection that transcended human, yes, but the very air around him seemed electrified with a tempting eccentricity.

“Do you remember me?” Blue asked, forcing a little smile he hoped was teasing and not anxious. His fingers trembled the slightest bit as he took a seat at the small circular wooden table. He tried to still the trembling of his fingers by touching the fine cloth covering the table, rubbing the material absently between thumb and forefinger.

“Of course,” Loki gave him a smile in return, one that seemed too knowing for Blue’s taste.

“I received a monitor out of our little meeting,” Loki chuckled softly and showed Blue his wrist where the thin silver monitor Mikas had tried stealing now rested against the red triangle on Loki’s skin. Blue looked away uncomfortably, reminded of the social gulf between the two of them with that harsh branding.

“Gaveryn’s stall was shut down and packed up yesterday,” Loki continued, retracting his wrist and catching Blue’s wandering gaze again, “seems the old bastard finally got what was coming to him. I decided to keep the monitor of course. These things are so expensive.”

Blue laughed at that, surprising himself. He found Loki’s bluntness, his light and teasing attitude refreshing.

“Blue,” he introduced himself and Loki smiled at that. He supposed he should remember his manners.

“I’m sure you’ve heard my name passed around here by now. I’ve been going by Loki for at least a century,” Loki tapped the rim of his hat and then leaned against the table between them, long, slender fingers intertwined.

“So, what sort of dream are you coming to me about?” Loki asked and Blue’s smile faltered as he mentally scrambled to make up a dream, or at least remember a recent dream he had had.

“Well,” he began, but his mind remained blank, and he realized he might as well drop the charade, “the truth is, I didn’t come here to have a dream read.”

He wasn’t sure how a dream could be read in the first place, and how a Mechi would be able to understand a human’s dream when they were not capable of dreaming themselves.

“Oh?” Loki asked, grin lengthening as he rested his chin on a curled hand and looked to Blue as if he found him endlessly entertaining. Blue shifted in his seat and shrugged a shoulder.

“I wanted to… thank you… for stepping in and helping the other day,” he finally uttered, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“I saw someone in need of help and felt obliged to offer a hand,” Loki explained, and then he passed a finger over his bottom lip thoughtfully before laughing under his breath, and Blue frowned, wondering at the amusement Loki seemed to find in him.

“Forgive me, I feel I should be honest as you have been with me…” Blue tilted his head at the odd comment, “I found you to be incredibly beautiful and I saw an opportunity to talk to you,” Loki admitted, “I could scarcely pass it up.”

Loki then sat back in his seat and hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets, a habit of his, it seemed. Blue’s breath caught at the statement, and he felt an odd sense of pleasure wash through him at the honest admission. He should have been used to men complimenting him by now. He’d been yelled at by sleazy older men time and again in the streets, heard the same thing whispered into his ear night after night as he lay beneath some panting, sweating man. He wished men’s compliments were money instead of mere words, because if they were, he’d be ridiculously wealthy by now. But there was something different in the way Loki had handed him those same words he was so used to hearing, something that made him almost believe they had substance to them.

“I’m glad we’re being honest with one another,” Blue replied.

If you would like to know more about the series this character is from, stay tuned to this writeblr. I’m going to put up many more character bios and short stories, or stop by my website https://amdailybooks.com/ for more info and many freebies/short stories that will be popping up soon! I’m always up for asks and will talk nonstop about these beloved babies.

If interested, the book this excerpt is from is available on the site :)

[i-belong-in-space]

Xiah: A Character Bio

Name: Xiah Asterion

Appears in: Lacuna, Sky Children, Whispering Gods, Soliloquy of Seasons, La Vie en Bleu, Beasts in the Stars, Wild Earth

Character Summary:

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Personality Type: ENTP, -A/-T

Physical description: Xiah has the soft features of the Ezri, an alien race that landed on Earth before he was born. Many find him beautiful and captivating with strange non-human features, one of which are his black eyes and the way they catch unsuspecting people in their depths. Most Ezri’s hair is a deep black like their eyes, mirroring the universe they were born from. But Xiah dyes his hair a light brown and is continuously morphing his appearance in piercings and tattoos in defiance of the Ezri way. He’s very tall as his race decrees, with long elegant limbs. He moves with a catlike grace and uses his sexuality to his benefit. He’s very aware of his effect on people.

Breakdown: Xiah is the universe’s ultimate playboy. Born from two Ezri parents who raised him to suppress his natural Ezri abilities, Xiah struggles with his identity and covers that struggle up with everything that makes him forget and feel good; promiscuity, alcohol, and a restless need to keep moving through the skies. He’s got a fiery temper, and nothing ever keeps his attention for long. He spent most of his childhood wondering about his ability to read the thoughts of his own people, and the fact that he could manipulate energy at his will. He eventually smothers those abilities (except in situations that would benefit him) in favor of appearing more human. He grows up working on starships with his father and eventually procures a ship of his own to start his wild journeys across the universe, a smuggler under the guise of a merchant. Xiah tends to get himself into the worst of situations, but he always gets out, and with a new lover who usually wants revenge on him. It makes traveling the skies a little more tricky...and interesting.

Sexuality: The Ezri don’t put emphasis on sexuality, but in Earth’s modern culture, he would be seen as pansexual. If someone catches his eye, he has no qualms in pursuing regardless of sex, gender, or race.

Relationships:

Mikas Ikeda (romantic)

Details: Xiah meets Mikas on the planet of Aurora through a band of Mikas’ friends. He becomes their pilot, or personal chauffeur as he sees it, helping them to get where they need to go in their adventures. He sees Mikas as a human who shares some of his own struggles in the emotional department. Both rough and tumble and cold in love, they don’t see eye to eye in the beginning. In fact, they often get into physical struggles of control and mistrust, but eventually come to terms that perhaps there’s more between them than mere intimidation. They share a restlessness and a need for new experiences and eventually form a bond over that.

Miel “Blue” Vauquelin (nemesis)

Details: Xiah sees Blue as a ghost from Mikas’ past. In his pursuit of Mikas, he continuously runs into the roadblock that is Blue and holds that against him. It’s never a smooth meeting between these two, but they’re forced to stomach one another’s company for Mikas’ sake.

Caden Maddox (friend)

Details: Caden to Xiah is a mystery, as the boy is to most people. But Caden is one of his own, someone searching for himself. But where Xiah is hesitant to know himself, Caden is eager and will do anything to uncover the truth about his past and his identity. In a way, Xiah respects Caden for his boldness, honesty, and perseverance.

Senka Idalia (friend)

Details: Senka , a fellow Ezri, is one of the reasons he agrees to tote Caden and his friends around the universe without much gain for himself. He sees someone trying desperately to find the source of their people and in a small part of himself, he wants the same. He would never admit this of course, but knowing where he came from is a yearning in his heart.

Attis Whitewater (romantic)

Details: Attis is a wild, beautiful human to Xiah. He meets Attis on a small backcountry planet, Ceres- the agricultural workhorse of the universe. As with most of his more meaningful relationships, Xiah has a rough start with opinionated, fiery Attis, but they eventually grow very close. Attis forms a deep attachment to Xiah that he’s never really ready to commit to. At this point in his life, he doesn’t have the capacity to commit to a boy who will never leave his home planet though he cares deeply for him.

Bion (friend)

Details: The sister of his first love, Remi. Bion is a spirited woman and they grow close in their youth with Remi as their median. After Remi’s passing, they become like sister and brother and keep his memory alive between them. Xiah often visits Bion in the progressing years, meetings that are often emotionally charged. 

Remi (romantic)

Details: The great love of Xiah’s life, a constant reminder of his own inadequacy. He meets Remi on the planet of Vesta, where Xiah feels more at home than anywhere else in the universe. He loves the wild rawness of the planet, and eventually loves those same attributes in Remi. He learns the value of life through Remi and remains captivated by him even after his untimely death which Xiah wholly blames himself for. He lives many years in silent torment over this romantic link and every relationship thereafter seems overshadowed and tarnished by it.

Pella (romantic)

Details: Pella is a dangerous Nyxian aristocrat who holds Xiah prisoner upon their first meeting. It might be the fact that Xiah may have insulted and stolen from Pella, but Pella is no angel in any sense. It’s ingrained into the minds of Nyxians that all foreigners who aren’t native to the planet Nyx are enemies, sent to their dark planet to fester and ruin it. With that mindset, he has no qualms taking Xiah prisoner, but becomes intrigued by Xiah’s outlandish, roguish ways as the weeks go by. The two become lovers and when Xiah does find his escape, there’s hell to pay if he ever sees Pella’s face again.

Excerpt: “Hello,” the Ezri greeted. He had brought a towel with him and he wiped at his face, cleaning away the grime, all the while smiling at Senka, his eyes sweeping over him curiously, “I’m Xiah.”

Senka nodded politely and passed his name to the other quietly and Xiah smiled wider, slinging his towel over his shoulder. His energy startled Senka, so different was it from any other he had felt, even Caden with his human blood composed himself better than this careless creature. And yet Xiah’s blood was pure and old, no humanity resided in him.

“Were you looking for something in particular? I felt you from miles away.”

“I was merely walking,” Senka answered stiffly, letting his hood fall back and regarding the other carefully. Xiah shrugged, clearly unconvinced. Nonetheless, he gestured behind him with an exaggerated sweep of his arm towards a cluster of domed buildings.

“That’s my unit there,” Xiah turned back to him with a proud grin, “I’m working on repairs to a few vessels in the back. Are you interested in ships?” He said the last bit as if he knew what Senka was after, and he probably did, despite Senka’s best efforts at keeping this stranger from his deepest thoughts.

“Are those your ships?” Senka wondered aloud, allowing his gaze to travel back to the domed building Xiah had come from.

“Built them myself,” Xiah agreed with a sharp nod, “even the Mechi around here have a hard time keeping up with me. I’ve been putting ships together since I was a kid. My fath--”

“There are more of us here?” Senka interrupted abruptly, his heart racing at the prospect of a generation of his own people here, safe, and thriving. Xiah smiled slyly and nodded again.

They’re shielding themselves like you, my friend.

“Come, I’ll show you,” Xiah waved him on and began walking back towards the launch site. Senka hesitated only briefly, considering this odd stranger. He was Ezri and no matter his wild appearance and mannerisms, he was part of the web, part of what Senka was trying to save, and that last thought was what had him following behind Xiah.

When they entered the nearest building, Senka was assaulted by a strange metallic scent and the stench of things burning. All around him were a number of ships, single pods and multi-passenger vessels, in various states of repair.

On the launch pad in the center of the dome sat a single passenger ship, its protective coating glistening prettily in the light, ready for take off through the large open dome above them. A woman in a figure hugging gray jumpsuit was standing on the pad near the ship, hands on her well defined hips.

“Xiah, where have you been?” she asked testily as he stealthily hopped onto the launch pad and approached her.

Senka watched with a mixture of surprise and distaste as Xiah pulled the human woman closer by the hips and kissed her roughly on the mouth. The woman laughed throatily when he released her and she gave him a sidelong, amused glance as she pulled on a helmet over her light hair. Xiah zipped up her suit where her generous bosom had been spilling out and then spun her by the shoulders, pushing her playfully towards the ship. The woman stepped into the pod and strapped herself in before giving Xiah a thumbs up as the door sealed shut with a hiss, the tinted glass hiding her from view.

Xiah jumped down from the launch pad and stood back, watching with a wide grin as the ship launched through the domed ceiling with considerably less noise and smoke than the old ships from Earth. Senka watched the ship disappear, a dark dwindling shape in the morning sky, leaving the atmosphere at a dizzying speed, before he turned back to Xiah with a questioning tilt of his head.

“Is she your keta?” Senka asked skeptically and was even more surprised when Xiah laughed loudly at his words.

“She’s someone I fuck when I’m bored,” Xiah responded somewhat crudely, shrugging at the frown on Senka’s face, “a prostitute who loves to travel. I let her take my pods up free of charge. Well… without a charge to her card, anyway,” he laughed and moved towards an alcove across the room where an oversized drafting table had been affixed to the wall. Scattered maps and what appeared to be plans for new ships littered the surface of the table and the space below. Xiah sat down, brushing the paper aside, and Senka watched in fascination as his slender hands began to sketch across a clean sheet of paper.

If you would like to know more about the series this character is from, stay tuned to this writeblr. I’m going to put up many more character bios and short stories, or stop by my website https://amdailybooks.com/ for more info and many freebies/short stories that will be popping up soon! I’m always up for asks and will talk nonstop about these beloved babies.

(art is copyrighted and made for the Lacuna series <3)