"Oi! Watch it, ya clumsy no-beard!”

Terry was so busy taking one last look around for the priest he hadn't noticed he was on a collision path with a dwarf. He slammed into him at full speed, yet it was like walking into a stump. He simply tripped over him, unceremoniously falling like a toppled grain silo forward. He didn't have time to stick his hands out to catch himself. Instead, he could only wince at what was about to be a painful impact.

Yet it never came. Instead he found himself caught, somehow quite delicately, by a loose collection of floating rocks in the form of a safety 'net'.

"For the love of the Hollow Sphere, Bedrock," a new voice chimed in, distinctly feminine yet strangely distorted. Like if the sound of a glass harmonica was lightly sprayed upon a normal tone. Not unpleasant, but odd, nonetheless. "Don't be so mean!"

Terry found himself righted, the rocks moving away from him, and to his amazement, they were now flying through the air. As Terry's eyes followed, they led towards a pair of figures. One was the dwarf he had briefly seen, still looking completely unphased by the collision. The other was less a person and more of a loose whirlwind of gray rocks, with twelve, shimmering blue crystals mixed among them. They were all rotating around a central, hovering, orb with a beautiful glow shining from it.

Terry's eyes widened at the sight. He had heard tales of levikin. Seen pictures of them. Mr. Holliger had even dedicated an entire month of study to them in science class. Yet seeing one in person for the first time was like having a staring contest with impossibility, and impossibility was winning.

"Will ya quit gawking!?" Bedrock growled, startling Terry.

Terry was out of his element at the moment, and not just because of the floating rocks talking to him. While he had seen plenty of dwarves during the census, this was the first time he had really interacted with one. They were essentially just like humans, though with the obvious quality of a lesser than average height and stockier build. Also, from what he remembered: they had two stomachs, but that wasn’t important.

Humanity had known of them for many centuries, but for most of them, the dwarves had lived in entirely different worlds. Worlds that were, in some ways, far more sophisticated.

***

"The Silver Republic advanced more in metallurgy in twenty days than the last twenty years when the dwarves integrated their mountain holds," Mrs. Holliger had once said, giving a lecture in the usual, thirty-desked classroom. "Strength through diversity. This is the gift the Silver Republic hopes to bring."

Benny leaned over to Terry’s desk at that, a poo-eating grin on his face. “Ima say it.”

“Say what?” Terry whispered back.

“Oh no,” Rosa groaned.

Benny cleared his throat, before loudly proclaiming: "Their smarts have never been in short supply then, huh?"

The entire class groaned at it, and Mrs. Holliger was even less amused. It led to her giving a forty-five minute lecture on why one should *never* joke about a dwarf's height. Even Benny later admitted an ironically cheesy joke was not worth it whatsoever.

***

In the present, Bedrock was glaring at Terry with eyes as annoyed as his past classmates'. Terry seemed to have an ally, though, as the levikin was turned towards Bedrock, her twisting rocks now morphing into a human-like, gravelly figure. She tapped her 'foot' expectantly, as if waiting for the dwarf to apologize for his harsh language.

Terry decided to make the first move instead.

"Hey, sorry about that," Terry said. "Was looking for someone and I guess I just didn't–" He quickly shut his mouth, preventing himself from saying, 'see you there.'

"Never, ever, ever joke about or even mention a dwarf's height."

It was, unfortunately, too late to backtrack.

"What were ya' about ta' say, lad?" Bedrock said, his eyes narrowing. "Go on, now."

"Bedrock!" the levikin cried. "Is this how we're going to make new friends!? Stop assuming the worst in everyone!"

Bedrock sighed, defeated, before begrudgingly looking back at Terry with a more diplomatic expression. "Right, right…" he grumbled. "Ya' didn't actually say it. We're square. On both accounts."

Terry relaxed at that, thankful he hadn't made an ass of himself so soon out of the gates. Another thing he had learned in school about dwarves was the tendency for the traditionalists among them to hold grudges. Given that this dwarf was carrying a Skyfleet sack, if he had chosen to hold such a grudge, it could have affected Terry for quite a while.

The levikin also appeared to be joining Skyfleet as well. She was holding her bag from the strap with a hook-shaped rock hovering slightly away from her now-humanoid form. It seemed to have no trouble supporting the weight. With all the commotion, Terry had forgotten how much of a strange sight she was, and this was coming from the guy who might have (as much as he tried to forget it) connected to a zilgling hive mind during the summer.

"Really think we got off on the wrong foot," the levikin said, the series of blue shards placing themselves on her 'head' to form a friendly smile. "I'm Gnessia. Gnessia Twelve-Shards."

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"Of Clan Metamorph," Bedrock added grumpily.

Gnessia slumped slightly at this.

“Hey, I dun’ care what that jerkoff says,” Bedrock growled. “Yer’ part o’ the family.”

Terry glanced at them curiously. What form of internal strife was he bearing witness to? He almost wanted to kick himself for not paying attention to Mrs. Holliger’s lessons on dwarf-levikin relations.

“R-Right,” Gnessia said, the shards on her ‘face’ now looking like a frown, before looking back at Terry. Suddenly, her ‘smile’ returned, and she took on an excited tone. “Oh! I see you're joining Skyfleet, too? Awesome! Me and Bedrock are joining up as well. I mean-- you probably already got that thanks to us hauling around these sacks, huh?”

“Mph,” Bedrock said, bobbing his rucksack slightly. “Could barely fit the essentials in this thing.”

“I know what you mean,” Terry sighed. “I wanted to bring my guitar. No way that was happening, though.”

Bedrock nodded. “Aye. Really dun’ like this part of the whole arrangement. Psychological trickery, me thinks.”

Terry furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“They want ta’ limit our attachments to home,” Bedrock answered almost immediately, and Terry got the feeling this wasn’t the first time the dwarf had given this rant. “And outside resources besides those provided by em’. It’s like they’re breakin’ in a pet. Teachin’ em that they’re yer’ whole world.” He rolled his eyes. “Standard military indoctrination shite. I thought Skyfleet was above it, ta’ be honest. Joke’s on me.”

A twinge of worry crept up Terry’s spine. Bedrock did have a point. This did seem like something the old militaries might try to pull. Could his step-dad have been on to something after all by distrusting them?

“Orrr…” Gnessia said in an optimistic, sweet tone. “Maybe they just don’t want us cluttering their skyships with personal stuff?”

“Mph, I hope,” Bedrock admitted. “Still seems a little tabaxi to me, but I s’pose we owe em’ the benefit of the doubt.”

“There we go!” Gnessia said cheerfully, poking Bedrock in the side with a rock. He folded his arms with a huff in response, but that didn’t stop Gnessia from continuing with: “B-Rocky, secret believer in the glasseth half-fulleth.”

Bedrock actually blushed slightly at that. “Gnessia! We’re in public!” he said in a half-whisper.

“B-Rocky is a cool nickname and you know it!” Gnessia chirped.

“Sounds like someone who does that human sport ya' like, sis,” Bedrock quipped.

Gnessia tilted her head slightly. “And what’s wrong with that? Boxing is cool.”

“If ya’ want a concussion,” Bedrock grunted.

“Hey,” Terry chimed in. “She’s right, ya’ know. Boxing is cool. Concussions and all.”

“See!” Gnessia cheered.

Bedrock seemingly gave up at that, propelling his hands in the air. “Alright, alright, fine. I know when I’m outnumbered.” He then leaned in close to Terry, a smirk on his face as he whispered: “I actually secretly like the nickname, but if I tell her that, she’ll stop callin’ me it. Sisters, right?”

Terry couldn't help but chuckle. “I think I getcha.”

Truth be told, he didn’t really get it. Not at the thought of the two of them referring to themselves as brother and sister. Obviously, adoption was involved. It was more of the fact Terry had no experience with siblings, being an only child. He wasn’t about to tell Bedrock and Gnessia that, though. Why wreck the banter?

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Gnessia interjected.

“Conspiratorial guy stuff,” Bedrock said, sticking out his chest with false bravado. “As we do.”

“Damn right,” Terry agreed.

“Uh huh,” Gnessia said. If she had eyes, they’d be rolling.

Bedrock gave what could only be described as a hearty, dwarven laugh, before smiling Terry’s way. “Yer’ alright, no-beard. And uh, please dun’ take that as me bein’ anti-human. Just an ole’ habit.”

“It’s cool,” Terry shrugged. He glanced over the massive beard dangling nearly to the ground from the bottom of Bedrock’s face. It was so gargantuan that a bird could probably make a nest there without the dwarf even knowing it. “Though honestly, I do got major beard envy right now.”

Bedrock chuckled, running his fingers down the length of it. "This peat moss? It’s pretty hum drum as far as dwarves are concerned.”

“Pffft, you brag about it all the time,” Gnessia hummed cheekily.

“Don’t listen to her,” Bedrock warned.

“But I’m doing the bratty little sister thing!” she giggled.

Bedrock rolled his eyes, before turning his attention back to Terry. “Anyway, what should I call ya?”

“Name’s Terry,” Terry said simply, holding out a hand. “Terry Barclay.”

Bedrock stared at it, seemingly confused, before snapping his fingers. "Ah, the human affirmation of solidarity."

He gripped Terry's hand like an iron vice, causing him to wince. Terry didn't detect any malice in it, though. The dwarf just had strong hands.

"Heh, we just call it a handshake," Terry said, forcing a chuckle, before finishing the gesture and waiting for the dwarf to release his grip.

The wait turned out to be for an entire minute, leaving the two standing awkwardly.

"Bedrock," Gnessia whispered. "I don't think it lasts this long."

"Oh! " Bedrock said, startled, before releasing a grateful Terry's hand. It was practically throbbing at that point, which the dwarf noticed with a wince. "Er, sorry."

"N-No problem," Terry said, flailing his hand about to loosen his sore muscles.

Fortunately, what could have been an awkward moment of silence was quickly interrupted by a classic, "All aboard!"

"Alrighty then!" Bedrock beamed, taking a deep breath. "This is it."

The three of them made their way to the door of the first car in a line of ten. A bored looking ticketmaster with a pronounced mustache stood there. Bedrock and Gnessia entered first, handing the man their tickets and climbing on. Terry was last, repeating the process.

However, as he stepped on the train, he felt something peculiar: a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him only to find nobody there. He did feel a light breeze blow by his other shoulder, as if someone had just darted past him.

Terry looked at the ticketmaster as if to ask, 'did you see somebody there?', but the ticketmaster merely gazed at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” the latter asked.

"Er, yeah, sorry," Terry coughed, feeling a slight bit of anxiety build up in him as he handed the man his ticket.

He remedied this with the small, golden potion he pulled from his front pocket, stepping aboard the train as he did. Typically, he could control his stress with breathing exercises, but when it was being compounded by the fear of leaving home and an awkward (albeit hopeful) social encounter, he needed the tonic. All it took was a small sip and the stress began melting away.

Soon, the city of Bloomfield would join his nerves, fading away into the distance; another faraway point on the map.