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It took Isura Naraki a very, very long time to make a decision. Universes could have grown and died in the time he spent browsing a single section of the Solace Scents shop. He cooed and giggled as he browsed the selection of incenses, candles, and oils, fingering the tiny pittance of an allowance the praetorix had given him for the excursion. "Because," she had said, "if we give you enough you'll never come back!" Isura had laughed, but it was true. He loved exploring and this new planet, Midori, was just the sort of place he could really get into.

That said, he had been unable to resist the attraction of the scented shop and abandoned his Cyrus City exploration in favor of delving into something more specific. Tiny little gems like this were his specialty -- as a tour guide he knew hundreds of such little places back in the Dome. As a guide, he rarely gave them much thought, but just for today, he was a tourist, not a guide.

He also had to ask a lot of questions. He seemed not to know what any of the scents were, even some of the most basic. Was it a plant or a food? The scent of a flower? Something someone created? This one was nice, and this one too strong. These he liked, those he didn't. With the money he had, he could get a few small things or one nicer, but it was so hard to choose! He seemed to feel the need to express every single thought that flitted into his head.

It was a bit of a relief when it came near time for closing. Isura, not bothered one bit by the encroaching deadline, discovered what he wanted only by coincidence. It was tucked away, bordering on unwanted, a sickly sweet and sour scent of candy. Isura had no idea what a raspberry warhead was. He simply liked the smell. "This one," he said, handing over the sum bulk of his wealth in local currency. It was just barely enough.

The change he had left would not buy him a bowl of rice, so he headed off without stopping, feeling the rumblings of hunger, the little bag with the scent tucked under his arm. He knew exactly where to head next. A place where the rice was free.

The little thatched adobe cluster looked as lonely as ever, wilderness stretching for miles in every direction but the one behind Isura. "Hoy!" he called out to the adobe structures. The curtained door facing the road shifted and an unarmored Raal appeared, leaning easily in the doorway. Even at this distance Isura appreciated the taut athleticism of Raal's form. His clothes fit him perfectly. Raal had a better eye for garments than he would ever let on. The patterned accents were subtle but very fashionable, even if the dark blue and smoky grey colors were never anything Isura would have worn.

Raal's very faint smirk said he was not displeased to see Isura, but maybe a little surprised. Isura kept his visits sporadic and it was never certain when he would show up. Beyond that, Raal was impassive, hiding his emotions well. He was so focused. Isura admired that.

When Isura was close enough to engage without shouting, Raal said in a quiet voice, "Daying to you."

"Daying to you!" smiled Isura, repeating the traditional greeting of Raal's tribe. "I was wondering if I might join you for rice."

Raal gestured with his arm and stood aside, twisting his head with internal amusement. It was such a fluid and graceful motion that Isura melted a little inside. Ruga was always a gracious host and Isura happily wandered into the hut. It was the perfect time to arrive. Ria and Ruga, Ruga's siblings, were there andready for the sundown meal. They were as annoyed as Raal was calm, Ria glaring at Isura with the fiercest of looks, her red hair a mess around her head. She stood over the cookpot stirring some vegetables and meat. Ruga sulked and glowered at the table, his small fingers working away at a little braid of twine. Isura only smiled happily, never having expected any different greeting.

"Suki will join us for sundowning," said Raal in that firmly quiet tone that invited no objections. Ria scoffed and ladled out meat and stew over a bowl of rice. Isura took a seat next to Ruga. He put the bag with the scent down next to him.

"Good daying, Ruga!" greeted Isura, and was answered by a grunt. "What are you working on?" This elicited a snarl. Undaunted, Isura held out his hand. "May I see?"

Ruga handed Isura the braid. Isura examined it gently. "This is very nice, What is it for?"

"Stick," grunted Ruga, snatching the braid back. His staff lay beside him on the bench, already adorned with many such accoutrements. "Stick" was not a description of the item but its name, for like any good maging stick Ruga's had a very definite identity. Normally maging sticks had names like Lightning or Justice, but whether Stick's name said something about Stick or Ruga, Isura did not know.

"I am sure Stick will like it," agreed Isura as Ria deposited food bowls and sat down as far from Isura as possible. Ruga did not reply; while Stick had an identity, it was going too far to ascribe the inanimate object emotions. Its identity was merely a reflection of its unique properties, not a sign of any intelligence. Still, Ruga liked Stick, and Isura's respect for Stick softened Ruga's characteristic feral anger.

The meal began in earnest when Ruga put down his braid and started to eat. As was Isura's habit, he carried on a conversation for the entire table, since none of the siblings was much inclined to talk, except Ria, who was simply not inclined to talk to Isura. The rice and stew was not terribly good, but this was a place where the point of a meal was sustenance, not enjoyment. Ria had purposefully left most of the good bits out of Isura's bowl, but when Isura did stop to eat a few mouthfuls he commented on how tasty it was, and sounded sincere.

Isura and the triplets had been neighbors for more years than they wanted to recount. Isura had liked them from the onset, but convincing the triplets to like him had been a daunting task. In typical Isura fashion, he had never once given up, and eventually his good-natured persistence paid off. Isura fervently believed that somewhere behind those serious façades, the triplets liked him, too, even Ria.

The triplets were from a very different sort of society, nomad warriors whose tribe tended itself to tradition rather than technology. All three of the triplets were very accomplished fighters despite their age. Raal, the largest, was a master of the spear and sword. Ria was a skilled scoutmage, proficient in small thrown weapons, tracking, and the healing arts. Ruga, who was so small he seemed years younger than his siblings, was mage adept. Among their people, their destinies had been foreordained, their places set in society, but the triplets had decided not to accept the roles prepared for them and shirked their duties in favor of running off together. They lived, ate, and fought together, always ready to seek out new combat challenges to test their skills. For Ria and Raal, nothing was more important than the pure mastery of their skills, and they had no time for social responsibility. Ruga was harder to figure out. He had simply never fit in anywhere, and even now among his siblings seemed the outsider.

Isura talked them through his day, inquired about theirs without expecting any answers, and prattled on about the plot of a vidshow he had seen with a tourist. The triplets simply listened and ate. They devoured the available meat in short order, needing the proteins to support their hefty training schedules. Isura dropped a piece of his meat into Ruga's bowl without pausing his conversation.

In truth, though none of the siblings made any visible sign of it, they did like Isura's company. It was easy to forget with their lifestyle that other people existed. Ria always got over her initial annoyance at Isura's appearance and simply refused to acknowledge it. She hated being wrong. Ruga behaved the feral child no matter what, his social skills simply too limited, but in his own way he liked and even admired Isura. He rarely bit Isura any more and would sit next to Isura if Isura did not sit next to him first. And then Raal, who was always on the surface the most polite but also the least giving. He fully knew Isura's motivations and never gave any overt sign as to whether he approved or not.

Still, it was in its own way a nice little meal until Ria stood abruptly and left with her nose in the air under the pretense of being unable to stand Isura any longer. Isura stifled his urge to giggle. Ria had such wonderful qualities, her pride foremost. Raal cleared the bowls and Isura finally opened his bag to show Ruga what he had bought.

"It's a scented oil," he explained, "and you put it in the holder and light a candle underneath it. Here is the candle." He had purchased one of those as well, the right size for the holder. Raal glanced over from the wash basin, secretly interested in the objects.

Ruga sniffed at the items, not liking them but not hating them either. His tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth in contemplation. "No," said Isura gently, "they're not for eating."

Ruga's tongue slipped back into his mouth, upset at being so easily discovered. "I would not!" he yelled, always too loud in quiet situations and too soft in noisy ones.

Isura's mouth puckered into a laughing smile. He leaned over and kissed Ruga on the forehead. Raal looked hastily away. "You would," Isura said, thinking it wonderful. Ruga resumed his hunched smoldering and grabbed Stick, wrapping the twine braid around and around the hair, leaves, feathers, and grasses already tied to the staff.

"I didn't think it was a problem," Ruga said to Stick instead of Isura. "It smelled funny anyway."

"Because it's not for eating," said Isura. He noticed Raal was done washing the bowls. Time to be going. Isura returned the burner and oil to its packaging.

"Suki," was Jiall's reproachful greeting as he entered the apartment, nose wrinkling. "What is that smell?"

Isura ushered his friend in cheerily. "It's my incense burner! Isn't it great?"

"It smells..." Jiall frowned, trying to come up with the words. Isura waited with hopeful expectation. "It smells like cough syrup."

Isura's mouth fell open. "What! Nonono, it smells like candy. Raspberry candy!"

"Raspberry?" echoed Jiall, who had never seen a raspberry, though he had once eaten a strawberry when he was little, back when the hydrofields in Utoqatsi were accessible. It was a dusty memory now, but he had not been much impressed by the twisted, sickly little pinkish thing.

"People eat them!" said Isura, exasperated. He had never tasted cough syrup or raspberries, but suspected if they were anything like his incense he would like them a lot. The only surety he had was that he loved candy, which the scent most definitely was. "And make them into candy?"

"Well I think it smells awful," said Jiall. "How can you stand it?"

"I like it." Isura set his jaw and crossed his arms, pouting. He had spent so much time deciding on the scent in the store, he'd thought Jiall would have a touch more appreciation for it. "It smells exotic and sweet."

"Whatever," said Jiall with a shrug, making his way to Isura's kitchen to forage for whatever Isura had in the food storage unit.

Isura was left in the living room alone with the incense burner. He sighed and looked at the little patterns of smoke. "Well, I like it, anyway."

Jiall pinched his nose upon entering. "Suki, not again. How many of those have you bought now?"

"Eh?"

They were fresh in from the street, skin still glistening with sweat from the thick, warm fog of pollution that filled the Dome. Today was bad weather, which meant filtermasks and heat like the baking of an oven. The relationship between the Dome and the Disaster was a trying one. On the days the Disaster cleared somewhat, giving hope that maybe, just maybe, the world would one day be good and habitable again, the sun hit the Dome more than usual and heated the gases trapped inside, inflicting pure misery on everyone there. You waited and wished your whole life for the Disaster to abate, and on the days it did a little you moaned and cursed it and wished for nothing but cover from the heat. Dog days in the Dome of Aahywch.

Isura dropped his filtermask on the table and wiped sweat from his brow as Jiall pointed to the little incense burner. "Another?"

"Ah, no, it's the same one," smiled Isura, sinking into his flop of a couch and letting the cushions absorb him. When Jiall sat down, it pushed Isura out again somewhat, the two of them settling into an easy balance like two weights on a water bed, if only water beds had still existed.

"Do you burn that thing every day? And all the time?"

Isura shrugged. "But it's pretty. Look at the patterns!" He gestured at the little swirls of smoke, bracelets jangling.

Jiall frowned the frown of That's Not Correct and left the couch. "That can't be the same one.

"It is! It's just slow-burning. For the cheap people." Isura liked to joke with Jiall about the cheap people, like himself, as opposed to the rich people, which Jiall was.

"You should take that to a chemist and have it analyzed," Jiall concluded. "I've never heard of anything as slow-burning." Then the scent overwhelmed him and he fled back to the couch.

Isura just smiled faintly, not wanting to take the quirky little incense burner anywhere. He liked anomalies. Unlike Jiall, Isura did not feel the need to know and scientifically explain everything that was out there in the universe. He was more than happy to be ignorant of some things and consider himself lucky.

It had been a good day in Aaywch. The fans were all working, and the air had cleared, at least a little. That meant the tourists had been out in full force. Isura had been on his feet all day and when it was over, he splurged on a taxi to get home just for the chance to sit down, even if it wiped out half of the day's earnings. He had still done a bit better than usual. Being young, exciting, and sweet-looking, he could always get the higher-end tourists, and today had been able to entertain bidders, and unusual state of affairs. Jiall would forgive him the taxi. Maybe.

That had left him only needing to climb up thirty-two flights of stairs. The elevators were being serviced for the year and he had almost not gone out to work at all except the newlyweds in the next apartment were driving him mad. By the end of it, it was a miracle Isura could open the door. He crawled into the living room and only just barely made it to the couch, collapsing and vowing never to move again. He broke this vow almost immediately when he reached over to switch off the vidphone. He didn't care if the Radio Free Lotto called to make him a winner, he wanted only to sleep with no disturbances.

This, unfortunately, was not to be.

Isura was not totally aware of it when it happened. He had gotten so used to the faint presence of raspberry warhead scent it scarcely registered in his thoughts any more. Even Jiall was almost used it, and complained less. It probably helped that with the oil being nearly gone the scent was much weaker.

There could have been lights, there could have been energy, there could have been music. The only thing Isura heard was CRASH! He bolted upright so quickly he forgot how tired he was, bracelets jangling and breath catching in his chest. All residents of Aahywch feared collapses. Buildings, walkways, even the dome -- crashing noises were signs of death and misery. This crash was not nearly so large, though, and for a moment Isura thought someone had come in through the closet, but when he turned it wasn't the closet that was the source of the noise, but the cabinet.

"Urrrh..."

Isura's next thought was invader. He had no means of defense and didn't even bother trying to find any. If it was a thief, if it was a criminal, his life was most likely over. He had no regrets except that he would be leaving the triplets and Jiall, most of whom would not understand and miss him.

What Isura saw on the ground could have been a burglar, but if it was, it was a burglar against whom Isura had a chance. It was a child.

There were plenty of street children in Aahywch. Isura relaxed. They could be a bit rough around the edges, and would steal the shirt off your back in a flash, but he didn't begrudge them these things. It was a product of their hopeless circumstances. He knew plenty of street children, and even dealt with a number of them. "Hello there?"

This child, so young she was predominantly sexless, was laying on the ground in front of the cabinet, surrounded by everything that had been on top of the cabinet. At first Isura thought nothing of it, but then he realized-- the incense. "AH!" He spun over the back of the couch and reached his hands out.

The girl's reaction was immediate. She kicked out and struck Isura on the hand, a warning rather than an attack, and he snapped his hand back. "Hey!" she shouted at him, as if he were the intruder.

Isura's eyes watered. He inhaled deeply, hoping to experience the last moments of the raspberry warhead scent before it was completely gone. It had been a lovely little fantasy while it lasted, but as Isura knew all too well, all fantasies had their end. The girl only looked at him, and wondered.