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“Please, Papa, please? He’s just got to come. I know I’ll mess up if he doesn’t—”

“You can’t possibly mess up,” Madrynn murmured, trying his best to ignore his daughter’s begging, though — after having lived with the family for the better part of four years now — Ahita knew better than to worry that he would succeed. He kept his snout shut, though, and waited patiently outside the tent in which the two argued, ignorant of his listening in. Not that they would likely care. “Ysaride sees all young dovaa when they progress out of apprenticeship. It’s an honor, and a privilege, but not something you can ‘fail’ at unless you react grossly inappropriately—”

“But what if something should happen to me. I could forget everything I was fixin’ t’ say, or say something foul on accident, or trip on the way there, or someone could attack me in bright day—”

“Vaz—”

“Ahita won’t hurt anyone! He’s not half so dangerous as Arlin makes him out to be, I swear it. He wouldn’t hurt a bouken even if’n I told him to. You know as much—Mother’s always complaining so! ‘Not fierce enough’ an’ that…so if’n he isn’t fierce, then—”

“Vaz—”

“He’s really been lookin’ forward to it…seein’ the Plane, and all. I’d be ever so sad if he couldn’t come with me…we have it all planned out, you know. He’ll pose as my bonded. We’re like enough minded anyhow and you know he’s well-behaved. He’s promised to stick real close every second…”

“He’s nearing full grown. Well enough larger than any bonded you’ll find on the Plane—”

“He’s a bit small for his clan, I think! And not full grown yet. He can keep his head down and wings in…s’not quite so obvious then…”

And so the discussion went, back and forth, until, three days later, Ahita was perched at the bow of a boat bound for the celestial vortex, his long neck stretched out and snout raised to the wind. Boat travel was no novelty to him — the troupe travelled between all the body continents of Magesc: Soudul, Eowyn, Serenia, and even on occasion Ayr — but the thought of traveling to the other world, through the famed vortex and into the plane hand crafted by the dovaa god himself for his creations — that excited Ahita. Rumors of its beauty filled all the continents of Magesc and, being that only dovaa were permitted, he knew well that this might be his only opportunity to see it.

They arrived within two days of sea travel, and despite Madrynn’s concerns and Ahita’s size, they received no trouble at the docks or challenges to his purported ‘bond’ with his miss. On the morning of the following day — her meeting with Ysaride being another day later still — Madrynn supplied her with a small coin purse and instructions to spend wisely and behave conservatively.

She acted in accordance with his rules for all the time that it took to get out of his sight. Then, the city was her playground.

“Aahh, Ahi, isn’t it just lovely?” she squealed, pace picking up to something closer to a skip as she spread her arms and spun. “Oh, look at how tall the buildings are, and all the people! You know I never imagined I might see this many dovaa in one place until this moment — though, I suppose it does make a great deal of sense when you think about i—oh, do you suppose those are hairpins? They’re so detailed!”

Ahita followed after his miss as she hop-flounced over towards a merchant stand draped in colored cloth and littered with various ornate trinkets on display. Most of his attention, though, was still locked on the surrounding scenery. It was overwhelming to take in all at once. The glittering streets. Gleaming buildings. Dovaa of every sort, shape, and size dressed in bright, wildly varying styles and colors, many done up in finery with ornate baubles and accessories to their horns and outfits. It seemed unreal, almost, how pristine everything looked — affluent and utopian when most of the lower world seemed destitute by comparison.

Soon, however, Vazaera’s antics successfully distracted Ahita from his musings, and he allowed himself to be caught up in the whims of her short attention span, hopping from one shop stall to the next, fawning over this pretty thing and then that. It excited his senses, too, and fascinated him to wonder how such dazzling things could be made and what it would take to purchase them. What he might look like in them, though addmittedly, none were truly designed to fit him. His imagination made accomodations.

It wasn’t until some hours later, laden with a new pair of earrings, a shawl, and nearing the end of her coin purse’s bounty, that Vazaera addressed the wants of her stomach.

“Ohhh, I am ever so hungry. Are you hungry? I wonder what we might be able to fetch right quick on but a little…” She frowned for a moment as fingered through what remained of her coin supply. After only a moment, though, she hummed and tucked it away, smiling and shrugging. “Not quite so much as I intended to keep but—pastries. Oh, do they or do they not smell absolutely amazing?”

Though previously, Ahita had been perfectly content to browse finery and stare in awe at the new landscape, the mention of food sent a hungry rumble through his body, his sensitive nostrils immediately honing in on what his miss seemed to be referring to, and he whined. Oh yes. Food did sound lovely. Noting his reaction, she giggled and reached over, stroking his snout.

“Come then, no need to wait.” And with that, she was off — Ahita closely in tow — as they wound their way up the street and on in search of the source of the scent.

Despite his most fervent silent insistences that it not, Ahita’s stomach rumbled in anticipation as the approached the pastry stall. Large as he was, there was no way to hide it, and the sound inspired a giggle from his miss, who patted him and winked.

“Soon, mm? Oh, the sweet smell is so thick in the air you can almost taste it,” she sang. “I should think it’s good we don’t live here all the time or I might grow fat from smelling so many good smells, but don’t you love it for now while we are?”

Ahita, minding his tongue, simply nodded, moving in behind her and taking the opportunity to glance about as they took their spot in line. While frustrating in that it meant they had to wait, he supposed, it likely spoke well of the stall if it were so popular that customers had to line up for it and they couldn’t be sold as fast as there was desire for them. Then, but a moment later, a series of small puffing and snorting sounds erupted from behind him, and Ahi twisted his long neck, blinking and inspecting the most undersized little blonde dovaa he had ever spied. He blinked, and then leaned in to sniff.

“Ahi,” Vaz said in warning, and Ahita obediently paused, then gave the boy a bit more space. When she turned her head back to the sweets, though, he rumbled curiously and lowered his head closer to even with their companion in line, and — purely because the boy seemed so upset and children seemed sometimes amused by such things on occasion when previously upset — he stretched out his long tongue, demonstrating his ability to touch the tip of it between his nostrils and cross his eyes as he did.

Ahita rumbled pleasantly, amused and pleased that the child seemed to at least partly be playing along — even if he still looked a touch on the peeved side. When the boy made his hands fan out and puffed his cheeks, Ahita imitated him, rippling his neck flaps out and puffing his snout so that small tendrils of smoke curled forward. Then, with a puff of concentrated magic, he summoned fire flower, constructed mostly of embers and glimmering in the air in blinks of hot red, yellow, and pink.

“Good evening, little one,” he said after, offering his best, toothy khehora version of a becoming smile. “I promise not to ask much of my miss and you’ll be able to order soon and not be kept waiting. What is your name?”

At the speech, Vazaera peeked back over her shoulder, grinning also and feeling the need to pipe up. “And I’m Vazaera. I—” Then, their turn in line came, and at an encouraging comment from the pastry vendor, she gave a small, “Oh, marvelous!” in surprise and turned back around to place their order.

Ahita gave a soft, pleased purr at the boy’s smile and amusement. That was, really, all a performer could ask for in the end — the satisfaction of their audience — and for such a puffy and fussy start, he had a charming little smile to him. When he pulled out a slate to write upon, however, Ahita tilted his head curiously, red scales glinting as he blinked and watched, fascinated. He became very, very glad in an instant that — despite the fact that he himself could not write — he had sat in on enough of Vazaera’s lessons as she’d learned and been privvy to her frustrations and teachings often enough that he could make out some of the Magescian scroll.

The sounds, at least, were easy enough, and the fact that the boy wrote at all instead of answering aloud cued Ahi in to the fact that he must not have something he needed to make the words himself vocally. That, though, could be investigated more at a later date if the meeting ever came to be more than a passing one at a pastry stall, which was unlikely enough in and of itself.

“Era-han…Erohn…Erahn,” he said, tasting the sounds and testing them. Since his reading skills were not perfect, he figured it was likely best to try several and let the boy indicate which was correct. Too quickly, though, his miss was finished purchasing their snacks and stepping away. Ahi followed, but moved slowly, not wanting to leave the small boy so quickly out of curiosity among other things. “I am Ahita.”

Vazaera, already halfway into the bite of her first pastry, paused on noticing his interest and offered one to him, speaking immediately after gulping down her first mouthful. “I’m here to become an adept,” she said, perfectly happy to engage conversation if that seemed to be what Ahi wanted. “We came all the way from the great desert, Eowyn. Do you live here? I think it’s ever so lovely here — oh, it must be beautiful to be here all the time. But we couldn’t, you see, because we have to perform, and we’ve done so all over, on all the continents, even in so few years as I’ve been performing with my father and our troupe. Have you ever seen a gypsy performance? They are lovely, but ours are the best…”

Vazaera, when prompted, could talk for as long as a river could flow, and Ahita settled for humming as he licked the sugar from his lips, privately wondering where the boy did come from.

Vazaera tilted her head, apparently curious too, to see the boy’s method of communication. Eccentricities and abnormalities, however, were all but the norm in a lifestyle of travel and performance. Such things called to the wild and non-conformative, it seemed — as well as the outcasts and wanderers — all of whom came with their own individualized strangenesses and particularities. So, she made no comment on it, rolling with it as most anything else, and when he scribbled her a question, her face lit up, more than happy to go on.

“Oh, everything!” she said. “I do so love to dance, but I also sing and tell stories, and perform acrobatics, though that is generally a part of my dancing—it’s so thrilling, you know, to be the focus of an entire crowd’s attention, whether you’re showing them something they couldn’t find anywhere else to see, or weaving a story or having their ears—” She trailed off, picking up on the latter part of Erahn’s scribbling, and Ahita watched her cheeks glow with excitement as she clapped her hands. “Oh, music. Musicians can be so terribly talented I am jealous, but I do love to listen when I can — we have a number in our troupe, as well! They’ll play while others sing or perform—what do you play? Is it string? Or a flute? Or a foreign make from elsewhere—oh, oh, or do you mean that you write the music, and others play or sing it? I would love to hear something you wrote if you do…”

Ahita held back as he eyed his miss. It occurred to him that it was unlikely the small child before them was much of a musician yet. In training, perhaps, and excited about music, but he was only a child by Magescian standards, and it seemed as though his miss expected grown talent. Of course, it wasn’t impossible — world talent came at young ages to some — but that was more the sort of thing expected of those in their line work, stunning the crowds, not a single odd boy on the streets of the plane.

For the moment, however, he reserved comment. She was excited, after all, and there was no need to damper the small child’s pride either. Perhaps her enthusiasm would further inspire him. There was, though, the matter of timing.

“Your father…” Ahita said quietly.

“Oh, tshh, he can wait,” Vaz barreled in, waving him off heartily before he finished the statement. “He said we could be out to explore and that is exactly what we are doing. How old are you?” she tossed the question out so quickly after the tail end of the previous sentence, it almost sounded like a single thought, though it was obviously, in context, directed towards the young dovaa boy.

‘Erahn.’ Ahita flicked the tip of his tongue over his snout. It was a nice name.

No words quite described Vazaera’s expression. Though evidently bubbling with enthusiasm, mirth, and good-will, Ahita suspected the girl’s cheeks might have been a touch redder were the child any older. As it was, she looked highly flattered just the same, and all the more vivacious, near clapping again as he scribbled.

“Oh, only eight!” she said. “I’m nearly thirteen summers myself, but goodness, you’ve accomplished so much already—I can’t say I know a great many people who’ve managed half that in three times as long! I’m afraid I don’t have an instrument on me, since I am here only to see Lord Ysaride, and I don’t usually play anything myself, only my voice. But we have so very many back with the troupe. If you ever happen upon Eowyn, you must ask about my father and I—that’s Vazaera and Madrynn M’dridi. Yeissiri is my father’s mate and she’s also made quite a name for herself as a beast charmer and trainer of the fiercest wild things—enough that, I am sure if you asked, surely someone would know of one of us. Perhaps then the fates would let us meet again? As I would so love to dance for you. Can you imagine that, Ahi?” She spun a glance his way, swaying a half step back as she grinned. “Dancing to music someone wrote and played themself? I imagine it must be like giving motion to a person’s soul.”

As her fingers plucked and twisted with the words—her hands often moved while she spoke as though her body found it necessary to add more animation to her sentences—Ahita chose not to mention that all music was written by someone, and many writers were also musicians themselves. It seemed unnecessary to pull the gleam from her eye.

He nodded instead.

“And oh so romantic, goodness.” She spared the boy a playful wink. “I imagine you will charm crowds big as we do one day perhaps, hmm? And I really must be going soon, but…” After a stray glance towards the citadel, and then the direction her father had stayed, she hesitated. “Fate can be such an unreliable thing, don’t you think? Perhaps I’ll write our names on your board so you have the proper spelling for reference later? You could say just that you wanted to see our show and I think it would be enough to learn where we are.”