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"Hey Drac, can you hoist that chain a bit higher?"

"Sure thing, Jack!"

Thin silver chains criss-crossed the room, black feathers suspended in space by the metal filaments. The feathers were of ostrich and hawk, duck and pheasant and hung in chains as though they'd been snared fluttering to the ground. Black walls and dim lights accented the dismal appearance of the room and a faint tang of copper in the air stung those with more sensitive noses.

"Jack, why did you have to use real blood? And the blood of friends no less?"

"I thought up this piece when I was depressed. What kept me looking was the presence of friends. I guess you could say that this entire work is a peek at my darker side. The one that doesn't laugh."

"You have one of those!?"

"Shut it, lass."

The fox-earred woman turned back to setting up the last of the chains and fixing the lights. Rather than really lighting the room there was a simple but hypnotic flow of water over the windows into the gallery that made it look like it was storming outside. The over all effect was rather convincing.

The coppery tint on the feathers changed, shifting with the flashes of metal the barest breeze in the space caused. Hearing soemthing crash she turned her head to see splinters of glass on the ground.

"Bloody mirror. Sorry Drac, it just slipped from me 'ands!" The scotsman's acent would always grow heavier when he was angry about something.

"No worries. It's not like that one was on of my good ones and we got all the wires set." She bent down, picking up the glass piece by piece.

"Ow!" The woman looked at her hand, surprised to see a thin line of blood across her palm. One drop fell on a chain and trickled to a feather.

"OY! Lovie you've got to be more careful! Drac?"

She watched as her blood trickled down the chain and one drop fell onto a shard of glass. Looking down she saw an eerie reflection of black feathers, the chains and the blood. Without even thinking she picked it up.

"Drac? You alright?"

"Huh? Yeah I'm fine." She put the shard in her bag and went back to picking up the glass.

"No you don't! Give here." Jack took the woman's hand and pulled a bandana from his back pocket, wrapping her hand up. "There, now get your pretty bum home! I can take care of some glass and the locks. I'll see ye when we open, right? "Broken Feathers" ain't goin' no where between times!"

"Ok, ok, you win Jack. I'll see you then."

Jack smiled as she walked away and gave a tip of his cap. "You'll be seeing something else too, lovie."

"What makes me hang on to you?"

The draconic woman sat in one of the few unfinished spaces in her home. The room was shadowy, a large tree blocking most of the light through the window. It was also quiet here, almost too quiet since it was far away from the main living areas. But it was a sort of peace that could grow on one with a taste for it.

Sighing she turned the fragment over in her hand again, careful not to get cut twice. "Why do I hold onto you when common sense says to throw this piece of broken glass away?"

"Eh? What's this?" Gently blowing warm breath on the glass to make it fog a gloved hand wiped at the surface, trying to clean it.

"What is going on with you now, odd one? Then again I'm one to talk, aren't I?" Chuckling to herself she took a clean bandana from her back pocket. What a sight she'd be to Devi. She was crazy enough in his opinion without sitting in the middle of a dim room talking to a chunk of glass.

She stared in wonder as the shard seemed to just fade from everything. Then she heard the draw of breath from behind her. Instincts shot her to her feet and into a defensive stance before her mind could process what was happening.

Then she just looked at the teen. He was alien and familiar. There was something entirely sad about his appearance but also something strong and pitiful at once. An odd mix for one of such repose. Relaxing her stance she looked the boy over before realizing one important fact. He was blind. "Who are you?"

The boy tilted his head a bit, almost looking curious. The pupilless eyes stared out into the room unseeing. "In what sense?"

"What do you call yourself? Your name?"

Hearing more of the voice after the initial scurry he felt the edge of concern there. There was a strength in this woman that he almost knew. The woman had held something close to him that faded away to let him out. To bring him back. "I guess... Lonan. That's my name."

The woman regarded him in the pale light from the window. Once she'd gotten over her initial shock at finding a boy just materializing behind her she saw how laced his skin was. It looked as though someone had lashed him many many times. It was almost impossible to tell where the moon stopped and the boy began his skin was so pale. A small smile snuck it's way onto her face. "Well then, Lonan, you can call me Draconayzia, or Drac. Whichever you prefer."

"Draconayzia then, until I know you better." His brow furrowed slightly, confused and thinking.

"You're not... human, are you?"

"No, does that bother you?" She was not one to hide her nature from one already exposed and seeming so calm about it.

"Not if you don't mind me. Where.. am I?" He reached around with his staff, tapping the floor and nearby walls, as if trying to place some lost landmark.

"Windechaser Hollow. My home. Where are you from?"

A heartbeat's hesitation. "Somewhere that no longer exists."

"We are two of a kind then. You have no family then? No home?"

A hesitation, then a shake of the head that made red tipped hair glint in the low light.

"Then welcome to the Hollow, Lonan."

He froze for a moment. Did she mean.....
"I.... Thank you."

ninja

Lonan was walking slowly down the fronts, asking dirrections quietly from time to time as he looked for a place that sold bedding and a few electronics he wanted. Draconayzia, the woman who'd found (?) him had given him some money and walked him to the stores to get what he liked for his room. He insisted he'd be fine.

And he was. Until something collided with the back of his knee and sent him sprawling.

"I'm fine." His voice was soft, a rich tenor when heard. Finding his staff he tapped around to find where he'd been facing before and tried to remember the directions he'd been given.

It was a bit hard concidering that he'd been interupted like that.