One of the greatest frustrations with unexpected travel would have to be maintaining appearance. As my brother so much likes to remind me, appearance is second in importance only to having the right friends. Though I can’t help but feel that that relates more with his attempts at reaching into the world of politics than it does to my everyday school life.
Though perhaps my life isn’t so everyday any longer, my reason for taking sudden concerns in keeping my bed hair smoothed and my clothes from looking slept in. Unfortunately, sleeping through a ten-hour long flight does have its consequences. Though, I was awoken just about every time we stopped for new passengers.
After taming my rebellious long hair and lamenting my choice to leave it loose rather than tying it up, I look about.
The long flight has ended of all places, in the ass end of Asia, I couldn’t really name which country this might be, but from sights around me I don’t think there’re too many arguing to take ownership. Dirt, empty plains, and a few distant snow-capped mountains. The only aspect that’s unique to this place apart from its desolate nature, is the fact that we’ve landed on an abandoned runway atop a massive plateau, tall cliffs on every other side.
After stepping down from the jet, the dozen of us, all marked and chipped, have been wondering about without clue or supervision. The others are split between either standing awkwardly to the side, glancing about quietly, or chattering away with panicked energy as they try to figure out what’s going on.
From what I can tell, the quiet ones are the ones who’ve the smarts to realize a fraction of what’s happening. Not one of the chatterers has mentioned anything about how we’re all speaking different languages, though perhaps it would be harsh to criticize them for it since I can barely even notice it even after having figured it out. It’s the same strangeness from hearing the lizardman speak. I can’t even tell that something is wrong with their lip movements, though that in itself bothers me.
Damn reptilian brain chips.
I tried putting on a tin-foil hat, but to no surprise, it didn’t help at all.
The only reason I ended up taking this flight was because the accursed thing was spitting so many warnings at me that it was difficult to ignore. I don’t exactly want to piss off the people who probably have the power to fry my brain with a snap of the fingers.
If this is all something to do with kidnapping us then someone should be showing up any minute now. That’s if they’re not just planning on ditching us out here.
With a sigh I look up into the clear skies.
And blink.
A ship. The large wooden hull, smooth and shining in the light of day, polished bright and shimmering with an energy that I can’t quite place. Though all I can see from below is the massive hull, it’s already obvious how much care is put into the appearance of the vessel. Whoever made it really went all out for impact, and it really shows on the faces of my peers.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the vessel lowers down to us as if going to port against the side of the plateau. A shimmering barrier encircles the ship, becoming clearer as it nears, though I feel nothing as it passes over us.
Space pirates.
We’re being sold off to flying, lizardman, space pirates. It nearly makes sense, putting it to the top of the list of possibilities.
Before the awkward have chance to settle, or the panicked have chance to run off one of the many cliffs, our ‘academy representative’ finally steps down from the plane. The slippery creature found some way to hide himself during the flight, escaping the questions thrown his way thus far, but those same questions quickly start growing loud again.
Half expecting him to make another escape, he instead stands before us waving us quiet.
“Upon entering the transit vessel, you must recognise that you represent your civilization, as such, please remain civil. No fighting, no yelling, no causing bother for other students, and properly listen to the staff. If you have problems with another student, bring your issues to a teacher or welfare officer, which you will recognise by an armband like this. The rest of your questions will be answered in time.”
As he’s been talking, the vessel has lowered in altitude and almost reached the ground level, allowing us to see it’s top. There are no sails, but instead, standing tall where a mast might ordinarily be set, is a tall crystal tree, its branches fading from sight and seeming to shift as I blink.
Unfortunately, I haven’t much the time to stare, as soon after a section of the hull lowers down into a sort of loading ramp, inviting us into the ship through a door a few decks down. We can’t yet see within the ship but the sounds that reach us suggest that it’s rather busy inside.
Our ‘school representative’ turns away from the uproar of the more verbose students and leads us to the lowering plank of the ‘transit vessel’ as he so simply calls the thing. I follow quickly, leaving behind those still frozen in confusion or panic. As the doors open, all of us are given yet another shock, somehow just as potent as those that came before.
A zoo.
Though, I’m sure it would be quite rude to actually say it, that’s the first word that comes to mind to describe it.
Insectoid, reptilian, beastly, chitinous, slimy, furred, and leathery, big and small. My mind swims in the sight of so many different forms. So many creatures which I never would have imagined capable of sharing the same space, all move about inside freely. Many are completely alien, while a disconcerting many more have features that are reminiscent of a human.
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Seeing what would appear to be a person with feathered wings for arms and scaled bird legs, I can’t help but feel some strange fuckery about. Even with the promise of magic, I can only think that half the people in here are the result of some mad scientist’s experiments.
Having quickly looked over the groups gathered inside, staring right back at us, my mind quickly passes from the differences to the similarities.
The minotaur, clapping his feet awkwardly in the corner as he looks to the strangers as if trying to find some excuse to join one of the conversations that has started back up.
The bird girl runs from group to group, speaking energetically like some overeager youth trying to find the one group of people that actually wants to talk with her. A group with goat legs and horns stare at her in confusion as they continue to whisper to one another giving other groups the side eye.
A frog like boy stands up against the wall, nervously coating himself in mucous, increasingly twitchy as some others stare at him in disgust. He glares at his feet, eyes shining a little in the light, but that might just be the mucous.
A busy café, or what I suppose to be a café, runs on one side of the room with staff just as diverse, but far less uncertain. They run through the mob of awkward youths as they take orders and deliver food and drinks to tables.
I blink a few times, slowly letting the atmosphere wash through me.
“Other students?” I ask our lizardman escort, as I look over the silver marks that occasionally shine in the light.
“How astute, the students this year truly are something special.” Even with the strange way that the words parse, I can feel the sarcasm rolling from his tongue.
I look back over the other humans, their mouths hanging open as they stand frozen in the door. Some have their eyes flicking between their new peers, others seem to be passed out on their feet.
“Well, I’m glad they’re your responsibility.” I tell him, walking past and giving him a bit of a forced smile as I search for a table to sit at. Whatever snacks or meals the flight might have had they didn’t think to wake me up to offer them.
“Hurry up and get inside, if we don’t close the doors, it’ll be a bother for everyone else.” The lizardman says as he turns to my frozen peers at the door. One of them finally unfreezes just to scream and sprint away, earning an awkward laugh from most the rest of the different species gathered inside.
As I step deeper into the room a tingling that I had been ignoring grows strong enough to push past my anxiety. It’s growingly painful as a sort of pressure that builds up in the air around me. Slowly the sensation breaks through, invading my flesh deeper and deeper down, as a growing warmth builds up alongside the needling pressure.
With a few deep breaths, it all fades back into a discomfort that can be ignored. So much else is going on that I simply don’t really have the time to waste on complaints right now. Not to mention there’s no one here I trust enough to take my complaints to.
As the errant student is dragged back inside and the door is closed, I can feel a slight movement beneath my feet, like a slow elevator rising up. I awkwardly wander between the different people as I’m getting used to this atop all the rest of the strange sensations.
Hopefully, this isn’t just some strange gas chamber, which considering the diversity of species here, is all too possible on accident. I mean, who would even know whether or not minotaur farts are lethal to humans?
Shaking the thought, I take closer look at those around me in search of the best place to sit. Those too near to the door are sure to be bothered every time there’s another stop, something I figure is happening fairly frequently by the diversity around me.
The side opposite the door seems to be formed up by people whispering away with one another in their tight knit little groups, all crowding their tables.
Near to the café front, has the strengths of being near to the food and not being too crowded. Most students too shocked and/or anxious to go ordering anything. One of these tables even has a window view of the outside world. I don’t waste the energy overthinking where the windows came from, when there are clearly none from the outside.
“This seat free?” I ask, those at this table all seem a little more relaxed than the rest of the room.
“No one else is sitting there, would you like to join us?” I freeze.
“Yeah, thanks.” I blink a few times, adjusting my glasses as I look between everyone else at the table.
A supermodel, a tree, and a lizard-human hybrid.
An elf, a living-vines, and a skaleed.
I hate this goddamn brain chip.
“I’m Cheri,” says the elf, his words spoken slowly as if trying to make every syllable that escapes his mouth sound refined. “You seem to be handling yourself far better than the others of your realm.”
“It’s funny every time.” The tree beside me says with an evil sounding cackle escaping through the rows of bloodied thorns, “The way they stare at everyone in shock, then that one that actually ran away. I’ll never get bored of it. Vaunt, by the way.”
“You’re laughing now, but you were the same not so long ago.” The lizard girl says, looking to me and bowing her head, “I’m Scara.”
“Oh, I’m Kyra.” I reply offering a similar bow of the head. Picking up on the quirks of another culture and following suit is rather important, my brother taught me as much quite thoroughly before I was packed into the jet.
My growling stomach makes it clear that it doesn’t like being ignored.
“If I might ask, how do I order food here? I doubt they’ll take card.” Even with the café running as busy as it is, I still don’t notice any money changing hands at all.
“Card?” Cheri asks, shaking his head delicately before raising a hand and waving to a waitress.
“Would you like to order something?” The waitress says with the most perfect professional smile I’ve ever seen. The service industry here is no joke. I don’t think I’d be able to work here part time even with another decade of experience to back me up.
“Ummm.” I delay, looking at the food around me. The tree beside me is opening a massive jaw made of twisted, thorned vines and chewing on meat that’s on the raw side of rare, while the lizard girl is eating what looks like an oversized roach, well roasted. Thankfully, the supermodel is eating what appears to be some form of curry, reddish-orange sauce, chunky vegetables? Or maybe meat? Over what might be brown pasta.
It looks more edible than the rest and doesn’t smell half bad.
“That, can I please get one of that?” I say gesturing at the supermodel's plate, “And water.”
“As you please.” The waitress replies with a small bow before heading back to the kitchens. Her step fast but unrushed, refined and sure. Yep. I’m not finding employment here.
An irritatingly loud siren plays throughout the room, disrupting the conversation. Alongside it, the room fills with a powerful energy, seeping into me through every pore and building on the discomfort from earlier. The warmth and tingling worsening as seconds stretch, time warping not merely from the pain, until the energy snaps into a freezing chill.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Classes & Skills
~Fire Magic: Grade 1
Current Goal: Complete a mana-fire conversion.
Warning: Your mana form is too underdeveloped to take the next step in this class.
~Mana Form: Grade 1
Current goal: Develop your mana form.
Current mana density: 0 units