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- huh. This place is so thin it barely exists, but if she touches it it will gain substance. Curious.

Still, she hesitates. (For days, really.) It is so much easier to merely watch...

Aka stands at the edge of a dance club for the 31st century—the corona of the brown dwarf star the space station orbits visible metres below the crystalline floor. It's scattered with knots of interesting people. Glitter, cycling lights, fountains. She eavesdrops.

"Can you cast over iron yet?" a sauntering someone asks, sparkling mauveine strands woven through her cheek.

Spiralling about her, her interlocutor answers, (silver cut-outs over his eye sockets, filigreed with diamond) "Somewhat, though purling still defeats me. Could I effect the solder to set—" 

Boring. She moves on.

"Suppose you quake when the tither comes," sings a scale-clad xiething trapeezing from the mezzanine.

"I haven't a hope for soothing it with shakes," admonishes someone bird-clawed, perched bat-like beside xyr anchor.

"Suppose you quiver, nevertheless—"

Here, she decides, and Aka interrupts, "Catch you quarrelling, unsure of your fate?"

The two startle; the one hisses; they both stare. She looks perfectly ordinary for hereabouts, which herein means two-armed, two-legged, rubies set into the iron claws she taps against the side of her wiry-nest seat.

 

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The rest of the club does not notice the sudden tension in that far corner. The xiething recovers quickest, chittery laugh spiralling up into the heights. "Ho there—you've a talent to startle! Come you to join the wordplay?"

Aka considers, claws clicking an idle counterpoint. "Mayhap." The bird one ruffles, uneasy. No trust here. Not unexpected.

"Introduce yourself then," the xiething dares, rolling out to hang by one hind limb, where the others cannot see xyr smile. Sharp and eager, interested in new playthings.

"I am called Aka." She offers no more.

The silvered one unfolds wings and swoops off without a word. Smart. The xiething's smile broadens, not at all discouraged. "And aren't you curious here, Aka?"

She allows a shrug. "Somewhat."

"Well suppose we play a round of riddles then, if watching bores and you've no care to dance?" the xiething proposes. "You begin."

Aka considers the room a moment more, touches one claw meaningfully to another. "I spin fragile castles, yet cannot be contained. What am I?"

"Ho ho, an easy one!" the xiething carols. "You are thought itself, or perhaps imagination. My turn—Tall as trees, hard as rock, soft as silk. What?"

Her smile sharpens. "Water."

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She returns to herself; eerie, but not unpleasant. And riddles make a reasonable diversion, so she'll continue.

"It's dull, alas, that we guess so quickly." Smirk. "Try me this - when the catseye meets the pauper, what is left between them?" It should be a common phrase, in this time and place, something laughably, insultingly easy to guess.

And the swinging riddler says—

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"Ha! Nothing at all is left between, for they've naught to share," the xiething crows.

Aka inclines her head, tapping her claws in metronome-beat applause. Her companion preens at the praise. "Your turn again, o challenger mine."

She considers the room once more, gaze snagging on new figures limned in cyan and azure silk, arguing art or music or the definition of obscene. A flicker of irritation tairing grievances worn and exhausted a thousand years ago. "The longer I stand, the shorter I grow," she offers instead.

The xiething's forelimbs scratch behind a feathered ear, thinking. After a moment, xie hazards, "A shadow, mayhap?"

"Just so." Her claws click a sharp counterbeat. "Too simple." Another searching look about the room, and she smiles lazily, indulgent. "One more try, and then I think I'll go."

"Stay, stay!" the xiething protests, cheeky. "Very well, one last - The more you take, the more you leave behind. What?"

Aka's smile widens, ruby-tipped fangs glinting in the light. "Footsteps."

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Well! She can, if she chooses, take a hint, and frankly has no reason not to.

Aka leaves, in a perfectly ordinary manner, and goes to eavesdrop on those new figures, limned in cyan and azure silk, arguing art or music or the definition of obscene.

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The two in azure are siblings. Dervani moths mark their cerulean headdresses with keening arpeggios as they argue the musicality of lumière projections, sharp hisses and whistling screams - somewhat interesting, somewhat tedious. Aka drifts leftward, past the fountain, spiral-set with citrines the brown dwarf's light renders near infrared and blinding, onto a heated terrace crowded with smoke and androids chattering about the Theory of Constraints and its objections. The garden beyond is as brilliantly lit but empty amidst fragrance. Perfect.
A hedge dimly illuminated twists away into spiral topiary. A lone figure sprawls there on a marble bench with fishtail fins splayed - textured indigo scales narrow to jagged claws tapping at the stone with some tetchy rhythm unfamiliar even after these centuries.

Familiar or not, new guests are prone to irritation in these parts. Best approach delicately. She clears her throat politely to announce her presence, sinking to perch on the bench's arm. "And what occupies you on this fine evening?" Might they too be as bored as she with this place, grown too static and self-congratulating?

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Actually Aka is, in herself, fascinated the space station's fragrant spiralling topiary, and intrigued by this purple merfelk tapping out some music. She listens.

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The indigo figure startles, fins flaring in offense, but Aka simply waits with polite disinterest. After a wary breath, ey settles somewhat. "The usual diversions grow tedious." The tapping claws snap out a dissatisfied rhythm. "Thought I might find new amusement here, but only duller shades of the same."
Aka tilts her head, allowing a considering hum. "I had much the same notion, some while past. Perhaps the station has grown too self-absorbed." Her own claws tap counterpoint.
Something like a laugh rasps from the indigo throat. "Just so. All parties and no purpose - what frivolity!" The merfelk's frown sharpens, baring an impressive array of needle teeth. "I hunger for novelty, yet here there is naught save empty preening and circles endlessly repeated."
"Mmm." Aka smiles thinly. "Then it seems this place has disappointed us both. What think you - shall we seek new diversion elsewhere instead?"
Surprise flickers in the merfelk's lambent eyes, followed swiftly by intrigue. "Perhaps. I had not thought to leave, but - why not?" A considering flash of teeth. "The galaxy is large, and novelty awaits discovery. Let this place spin its petty cycles without us."
Aka's smile widens approvingly. "Just so. Shall we go then?" She extends a hand in invitation.
The merfelk takes it without hesitation. "Let us."

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—no, she's not leaving the station. This world is strange and beautiful and unfurling and her touch and she wants its depth and detail. She won't abandon that for a vague shallow smear across 'the galaxy'.

She doesn't say that. She takes eir hand and leads this half-fish person towards where she began, the dance club with the low orbit showcase floor.

She should say something, along the way...

"Have you a fondness for starlight or dark?" she asks em.

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The merfelk blinks, seeming taken aback, but considers the question genuinely. "Starlight," ey decides after a moment. "The dark grows dull and empty without points of light to give it depth and catch the gaze."
Aka smiles, leading their way out beneath diamond-strewn skies and the brown dwarf's ruddy glow. "Well said. I too prefer the light."
The merfelk nods, seeming to relax into this small point of common ground. "The galaxy is vast and mostly dark - better appreciate what illumination we find along the way."
"Just so." Aka's gaze drifts to the space station's curving hull, to windows glittering with spiralling light and figures that cast sharp shadows, etching memory. "Best make what we will of the worlds that catch the eye, however bright or strange they seem." Her smile sharpens. "Even should they prove disappointing in the end."
"Ha, true enough." The merfelk echoes her smile, needle teeth glinting. "The light attracts as much as it reveals. Who's to say what new strangeness we might find?"
"Who indeed." Aka's hand tightens slightly on the merfelk's claw. "Shall we see, then?"
"Let's."
She leads the way forward into the dark.

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And then?

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Aka guides their path along the space station's hull towards an airlock, past windows illumined from within - figures etched in light and shadow, music's rhythm faintly audible through the glass. Her companion takes in the details with interest, needle teeth glinting in a curious smile.
The airlock opens at her touch, admitting them into one of the station's less frequented docking bays. Ships dormant for who knows how long, waiting, as much debris as docked craft.
"You've an aim in mind, I take it?" the merfelk asks, watching as she makes for one of the larger vessels. "Some new world that might prove less disappointing than this?"
"In a manner of speaking." Aka runs appreciative claws along the ship's pitted hull. "A change of scenery, at least, and vantage." Her smile sharpens. "Care to accompany me on an expedition?"
The merfelk's fins spread in interest. "Intriguing. I've no objections."
"Excellent." The airlock hisses open at her touch. "After you, then. Our adventure awaits."
Ey enters without hesitation. Aka follows, and the docking bay falls away behind them into the dark.

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...yeah, no.

The poor purple merfelk can fall away from the station alone; Aka isn't there.

Aka is standing in a thoroughly unobserved corner of the dance floor, where no eye of flesh or metal or crystal will gaze any time soon. She is looking for the people she saw there earlier: the apprentice iron knitters with diamond eyes or sewn cheeks, the bird-bat and the trapeezist who was teasing them about their fear of death, the siblings in blue silks arguing about ancient film, or perhaps androids come in from the terrace. There are some people dancing here, and she will join that—she does join that, steps out lightly over the dim corona and begins to spin.

But she is listening, with ears and her own other thing, for any conversations worth interrupting.

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Aka loses herself for a time in the rhythm and the light, drifting from partner to partner as the music spins ever onwards. Conversations blur and fade around her, glimpses of lives too dull or too strange to catch her interest for long.
But in time one thread emerges, dimly familiar—the birdlike figure from before, still uneasy but unable to keep away. Ey watches from the mezzanine, clutching at the railing with taloned hands as though it alone keeps em grounded.
Her lips curl at the sight. Still so suspicious, and why? She makes no move to approach, merely allows her gaze to catch the apparition's bright eyes as she passes below, spinning from a many-limbed orchid mara into the arms of someone silver-scaled. A flinch, quickly smoothed away.
Interesting. She'll keep this one in view, she decides. Should the bird prove unable to resist some further attempt at conversation, she may yet find amusement in unsettling those bright eyes further. For now, she returns to her drifting, and the music, and the light.

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Oh, Aka is greatly interested the strange lives, if she can catch the details. She strikes a sudden, dramatic pose with a good view of the many-limbed plant demon, and pays attention. Oh, the bird-clawed human says "thus and such", and someone says "this and that" to them? Aka will track how their conversations will go, poised for the perfect moment to interrupt.

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Aka follows the uneasy bird-being's gaze about the room, spinning from partner to shadowed corner as the music shifts. Most who catch that bright stare flinch or sneer uneasily and turn away, dismissing the apparition as merely another of the club's eccentrics.
One figure pauses, however, silvered implants flickering with interest. "You seem out of sorts, friend. Some trouble with the tither, perhaps?"
The bird-being startles, feathers ruffling in offense. "I've no trouble, and want no part of your pity."
"No pity offered." A shrug, spiralling metal tattoos glinting. "Merely concern for a fellow wary of this place's delights."
A considering tilt of the head, unease warring with reluctant camaraderie. "The pleasures here have grown too strange for my tastes," the bird-being admits. "I'll not be caught in Death's games, however sweetly baited."
"Just so." A quirk of silvered lips. "Best keep one's wits in such company - and an eye to the exits, lest the tither draw too close in revelry."
The bird-being nods, seeming to relax into this caution it understands. "Well said. I'll thank you to keep your distance as well, friend, else you'll find my talons at your silvered throat."
A startled laugh, edged with approval. "Fair enough! My thanks for the warning - and the same to you, lest I mistake you for some new amusement."
The bird-being echoes the laugh, sharp and rasping but without real malice. "Agreed. Now, away with you - my vigilance brooks no distraction."
"As you say." A mocking salute, and the silvered figure spins away into the crowd. The bird-being returns to watching, wary but less uneasy than before.
Satisfied, Aka turns away. The bird will keep for now. She seeks new diversions.

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So that's how it goes without her intervention; can she tap it to make it more fun?

Here's how it goes: Aka strikes her pose briefly, then sidles into obscurity. The bird-kid's uneasy gaze flits about the room, spinning from partner to shadowed corner as the music shifts. Most who catch that bright stare flinch or sneer uneasily and turn away, dismissing the apparition as merely another of the club's eccentrics.

One figure pauses, however, silvered implants flickering with interest. "You seem out of sorts, friend. Some trouble with the tither, perhaps?"

Bird Kid startles, feathered shoulder-pads ruffling in offense. "I've no trouble, and want no part of your pity."

"No pity offered." A shrug, spiralling metal tattoos glinting. "Merely concern for a fellow wary of this place's delights."

A considering tilt of the head, unease warring with reluctant camaraderie. "The pleasures here have grown too strange for my tastes," the bird-being admits. "I'll not be caught in Death's games, however sweetly baited."

"Why," Aka asks, from some briefly-unobserved spot by their way, "Do you see a trap baited tonight?"

The silvered figure—

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The silvered figure startles, decorative fins flaring in surprise, but recovers quickly with a considering hum. "An interesting question. What trap do your bright eyes perceive here, that others miss?"
Aka allows a shrug, watching the bird-being for its reaction. "Merely curious what might bring such wariness in this place of delight."
Feathers ruffle as the bird-being turns a sharp stare her way. "And what brings your interest in my unease, stranger? Have a care not to make yourself the tither's bait."
"A reasonable concern." Her gaze flickers about the room, to figures that spin on as though nothing has changed. "But I think you mistake this gathering's aim. No traps here, save those we make ourselves."
"Is that so?" The bird-being's claws curl, unconvinced. "What better bait than pleasures freely given? I'll not be caught unawares."
"Suit yourself." Aka smiles thinly, ruby teeth glinting. "But I'd suggest you guard your exits less, and watch the dancers more. This place is not so strange as you believe."
She turns away, unsurprised by the uneasy hiss that follows. The bird is wary as ever, and like to remain so. But suspicion cuts both ways, and she has planted a seed of doubt. It will be interesting to watch how it grows.

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Yes! Yes, it will. Aka - not more dancing, now, Aka turns to climbing the walls in the fashion they are designed for humans and near-humans to do, but paying rather more attention to what Bird Kid does next than any of the others engaged in the same activity.

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Aka scales the station walls with ease, claws clicking on metal and crystal beams meant to challenge and delight. The music spins on below, figures dancing on through the eternal night, but she pays them little mind.
All her attention is for the railing above, where the bird-being clutches and watches the crowd with unease unabated. Seeds of doubt take time to sprout, after all.
For a time the apparition stands unmoving, feathers ruffled in agitation. But gradually, almost imperceptibly, its gaze begins to stray - not to the exits, as before, but to the dancers themselves, to flashes of light on metal and gem, to tattoos spiralling across azure skin and delicate traceries of gold and indigo amidst the crowd.
Aka smiles, stretching out along her beam. Curiosity awakened, at last. She will wait, and watch, as the doubt blossoms. The bird was right to call this place bait for traps of its own making - but not at all in the way it believed.

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Swing a little, her own trapeze.

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Aka balances on her beam, attention split between the dancers below and the figure clinging to the railing above. The bird-being's talons dig deeper into metal as its gaze follows a couple waltzing in shades of amber and teal, hand in hand through spirals of mingled perfume from the garden, but still it does not move to join them.
Interest awakened, but not yet overcome.Fair enough. Rome wasn't built in a day.
A flash of light draws her gaze downward for a moment - someone entering through the airlock in a flurry of silk and chrome, jewels that split the light into fractals pinning back verdant strands. Three occupants, chattering in unfamiliar tones, already drunk on the station's delights.
The newcomers plunge into the crowd without hesitation, spiralling together through flashes of light and snatches of unheard melody. Aka watches sidelong as they pass beneath the railing, spinning from one enraptured partner to the next.
The bird-being's feathers ruffle, uneasy but fascinated, following the trios eager explorations.
Its talons creak faintly against the metal - but do not clench, or move to carry their owner off into safer shadows.
Aka smiles, clean and sharp, and watches, waiting. The trap is baited and ready. All that remains is to see whether the bird will fly.

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Is it?

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The bird-being's stare remains fixed on the trio in silk and chrome, verdant hair bound back from faces split by eager smiles. They spin from one enraptured partner to the next, a tangle of limbs and delighted laughter, unconcerned with any wary watchers in the heights.
Aka waits, still poised upon her beam. The trap is set and baited, strangers and delights enough to overcome even ingrained suspicion, if the apparition dare but take the chance.
There. A faint, convulsive shiver runs through the bird-being's feathers, a stifled longing to join the revels, as one of the strangers peels away from the crowd in a flurry of green and gold to claim a new partner. Lithe grace and metal etched with shifting, maze-like patterns, utterly unselfconscious.
The bird-being's talons creak once more, a jagged rhythm of doubt and yearning. It sways forward slightly, arrested mid-step, poised on the edge of flight.
Aka watches, unmoving, a hunter's patience. Above the crowd, two figures captured in a lattice of light and passing moments - each waiting for the other to make their choice.
The music spins onward into infinite night, as slow and deep as the abyss between galaxies. Endless, beckoning.
A single feather drifts downward, spiralling gracefully through the air.
The trap has sprung. Now, to see if what emerges is bird or bait.

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 - and is it?

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The bird-being lurches forward suddenly, slicing through strands of light and music, talons leaving furrows on the railing's edge as it launches itself towards the dance floor below.

Aka straightens, watching the awkward flutter of wings striving for grace, the too-quick embrace of the stranger in green and gold. Tension singing in every feather until, with a startled huff, the apparition finds itself caught and spinning through the crowd. Light spills across metal-etched curves and the startled delight in the bird's eyes, igniting joy where wariness once dwelled.

A snort of laughter escapes the bird, high and breathless. No traps here after all, it seems, save those of its own making. The strangers spin on together into the night, leaving stray glimmers of possibility in their wake.

Aka smiles, sharp and satisfied, and turns away. The bird has flown at last. Her work here is done. The music calls her onward - there are other lives here ripe for subtle shifts, and eternity awaits discovery.

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