The City of Dome…
Middle Myriad Era…
“And that was Skye Echo’s new single ‘Roundaroundabout’!”
A cheesy and smug voice called out from the out from the magihorn on the dresser table, as the tones of an insanely hyperactive but good song faded away. This magihorn was a battered example of its kind. The horn which once looked a bit like a splayed out flower, was a cracked, bent and filled with so many holes it could have been considered a sacred object. The box which contained the greater amount of the magic that ran the magihorn was a crumpled mound.
It was a wonder that it was even receiving the airwave, never mind putting out clear sound. It was a sight that would have made an antique collector cry and later be arrested for the murder of the owner of the magihorn.
“That girl is something else, gets me every time. Oooooh yeah. Well, today’s the non-stop no brakes no bars, morning music mania! On with the tunes! Up now we have the music-king of the lizardfolk! Snitch Lizzy’s ‘P-pounding Heater’, enjoy the best of the seehi! This is everyone’s favourite DJ, Yao Slippy Whereplain slipping off again!”
Heavy beats began to drop and a hissing voice like honeyed gravel stored in a steady train began to steam its way through, smashing words together like a pair of crumbling clashing cliffs.
Shabby. That was the word that described what the room that the magihorn was in. The walls hadn’t much mold or moss, but that was due to cute little green slimes feeding on those. Well, perhaps in other situations the the slimes could have been considered cute. On the ceiling disturbingly large spiders looked hungrily at the slimes.
There was a window, but it had no glass. Instead of a bed there was a sheet, suspended using spiderwebs, as a makeshift hammock. A few gingery feathers could be found lying here and there. Inside the hammock was a fluffy quilt of surprising quality, aswell as a couple of cheap cushions.
If you listened carefully, you could have heard beneath Snitch Lizzy’s sick rap, there was some grunts. Beyond the crooked wooden door of the bedroom, a man was doing pushups in a combined kitchen-dining room, though it was more that there was a few chairs and one of the kitchen counters was being used for food, as evidenced by the breakfast bowl that still had lingering remnants of some manner of really seedy mush.
The grunting man was wearing no top, but his lithe chest wasn’t bare, it was covered in gingery feathers! His head was like that of a bird’s and sported a pointy grey beak. His headfeathers were actually all black, making it look vaguely like he had a hood. His hairfeathers, the decorative feathers that emulated humanoid hair, were a raven black and quite short apart from two ones that swept over his head. His green eyes held a cheerful resolve in them.
He was clearly one of the tengoah, the most bird-like of the avian folk. His arms were currently in scaly taloned form rather than wings, which was natural enough considering he was doing pushups. That and there wasn’t enough room to do wing muscle exercises, the gains transferred anyway. He wore cloth plaid tracksuit pants, some obscure and horrid brand he found for cheap in a charity shop, they had a hole cut in the back for his tailfeathers. On his scaly taloned feet was a pair of plastic slippers that were of debatable value in protecting the feet, on the other foot, it wasn’t as if many tengoah had feet that needed much protection.
This man was Achira Greywalds, male, twenty three years old, no known family, Greywalds was just the district of Dome he was found in. Supposedly enjoys the crisp morning air and any view of a lake or sea, or at least that was what his ethernet dating profile said. Being someone in Dome, crisp morning air and lakes were in short supply, and there certainly wasn’t a sea. A man can dream though.
He flipped himself into the air and landed on his feet.
“Right, time for the morning jog and flight” His voice was a tad boyish for his age.
Achira went aback into his room and pulled a distressed sleeveless jersey, all colour and printing long since bleached from it. The sides were partly cut open. Achira had modified it so that when he spread his wings there would be no problems. Donning his garment, he boldly left his flat.
Directly in front of the landing was a concrete and metal rail. Achira’s flat was on the fourteenth floor of the aged apartment building. His eyes sparkled as he took in the view. It was no seaview, but Achira lived on one of the sides of Dome, and the mix of towers, skyscrapers and other buildings spread out before him, people hustling and bustling their way about their day.
Some of the buildings were said to date back to before the sundering. Achira stared at Dome’s now dead star, a floating mass of mazelike metal, once it had provided all light to dome, when the lands of Sunder were not safe for the naturals and they had hidden in many shelters. Dome was one of the few to still exist in some form.
Now, the light came from countless glittering crystals strewn about the city. A city that always had a lit up night, day or night.
There was ancient and powerful magic that kept the buildings and people on dome’s ceiling from falling off, still most of the people living in the high districts had lived there for generations or could fly, outsiders were usually a bit uncomfortable living there.
Speaking of flying, streams of cars, buses and lone fliers passed through Dome’s air.
Dome, crown of Silem, filled with lively hearts.
Achira’s eyes smiled.
“Will I fly today or take the stairs?” He murmured.
He shrugged and turned on his toes deciding to challenge the stairs, almost bumping into someone that was trying to pass by him. Thankfully his reflexes prevented incident.
“Ah I’m really sorry Mrs. Guji” Achira said, politely bowing, noticing who it was.
“Always in a rush, you should be more careful child-Greywalds, you’ll lose your tail feathers!” An old woman’s voice half-purred half-coughed out.
Mrs. Guji was a wrinkled prune of an old woman with bronzed skin and white hair that had a greenish hint. Her ears were like pointy dog ears and she even had a wolf’s tail. She was a kind of human that far far in the past before sunder were descended from wolves, a hulf, and in this case an alhume.
Her tail and ears marked both her venerable age and her strength of blood. It was possible she had lived a life full of remarkable things. Upon her crooked almost right angle back, there was as usual a motley collection of cats lazying about. They didn’t even deem Achira worthy of a meow, that too was usual. Achira was happy that the Guji back-cats had no interest in him. Some of the tenants were tortured by them.
In her slippers and bathrobe, it seemed today as well she was out watering the plants littered around the apartment, if the heavy watering can she held was any indication.
Her eyes always seemed to be closed, but nothing missed her gaze. Sometimes Achira wondered if she was seeing using the eyes of her backcats.
“I’m sorry again Mrs. Guji, I’ll catch you a nice fat fish today” Achira apologised, jogging off and down the stairs.
Though he almost incited the wrath of the infamous Mrs. Guji, Achira felt today would be a good day.
“Yeah. Today is the day after all” he said to himself as he recklessly jogged down the stairs.
[In preparation for a film and tv course I’ll be going on, and another thing~ updates will return to two a week. The days will be Monday and Thursday.]