Anovadiell's Story

The space flight was nice. Too short, but nice. It wasn't Anovadiell's first time beyond the bounds of Chytonia-- one business associate insisted on conducting all of his affairs from his orbiting vessel, a custom which, if Anova had her own orbiting vessel, she wouldn't mind imitating-- but was the first time she had ever actually traveled from the planet. Before their destination came into sight, she had become quite convinced that space travel was the only way to travel, especially in a luxury cruiser such as the one her prospective partner had sent for them.

The bulk of the trip had been spent sitting contentedly against one of the widest windows, listening to the music the crew had piped into the cabin she shared with her brother, watching the emptiness of space fly by, looking over the letters sent by and research she'd gathered on the "Cedric Falken" character she was to meet, or just reading a book for pleasure. Or, perhaps the most amusing and endearing of all, watching 'Mint act like an over-awed little boy. Even over the three days that the trip took, he never quite seemed to get over the fact that they were flying faster than light, going between planets, and nowhere near Chytonia. It was kind of cute to witness, actually.

Best of all, not only did they serve food which was both safe for her to eat and tasty, but the air on the transport completely free of anything she might be allergic to. So, even though she'd been half-dreading spending most of the journey very ill, or at least hooked up to a respirator, instead she spent it in relative comfort and complete ease. There wasn't even a need for more than the most basic protective spells. She was happy, comfortable, not plagued by pressing business, and in the company of her beloved older brother for three whole days. All things considered, Anova didn't want it to ever end.

But end it did, for the Star City station came into sight at last, and before Anova knew it, they were docking. With a sigh of mingled disappointment and resignation, she climbed from the enfolding couch she'd spent most of her time in for the past days and settled into her hovering chair with Terramintin's help. It turned on automatically at the touch of her fingers, and she smiled faintly. If she was forced to be confined to something when she needed to move more than a few steps at a time, there could be no better thing to be confined to than her hover-chair. It was a contraption half machine and half magic, shaped something like a car in those hideously dangerous roller coasters that set themselves up every once in a while. The "car" itself was colored in plain, polished steel with silver trim rather than gaudy golds and reds and sported a comfortable leather seat and back. On its normal setting, it floated at about three feet above the ground, so that she seemed to be just below eye-level for most humanoids, just enough to remind them that she was unable to walk herself, though she could direct it higher or lower if she had need to.

The captain came over the intercom, thanking the passengers-- as far as she knew, it was just herself and 'Mint on board as passengers, but she never cared to find out if there were more-- and wishing them a safe, enjoyable stay at Star City. Smiling once for 'Mint, who was still as enthusiastic as a child with a new toy despite being not only over three hundred years old, but also older than Anova, she directed her chair out the sliding door to the hallway, and down the hallway to the disembarkment hatch.

During the elevator lift, Anova began to think that the trip wouldn't be quite as bad as she'd feared. The air smelled clean and free of pathogens, there was only herself, 'Mint, the ship's attendant, and the hovering drone with their luggage, and it didn't move too quickly. Perhaps the station-city would be one of those quiet ones, despite its size, or perhaps they would be taken straight to the business district. The lift doors opened, then, and shattered her hopes by displaying bustling streets with hoards of shoving, shouting, trampling people, making their hasty or leisurely ways from neon sign to neon sign. Sweet stag, it isn't fair, she moaned to herself. 'Mint's wide-eyed, child-in-a-candy-store stare didn't make her feel any better.

The attendant stepped out, and was met by perhaps the most beautiful young woman Anovadiell had ever seen: svelt, just rounded enough to be attractive without being overblown, a cascade of dark brown hair tumbling in curls down her back, eyes black and languid, smile perfect and promising, and dressed to the nines in a perfectly tailored gray skirt, white blouse, and midnight suit jacket. She exchanged a few brief words with the attendant, then sent him and the luggage-bearing hover-drone away into the milling crowd. Anova was grateful to see that it drifted above casual reach, so that nothing could be easily lifted, but she was not grateful to see the young woman turn and flash a smile and speculative look at 'Mint.

"Anovadiell and Terramintin Tessaril-Tanzanite, I believe?" she asked in flawless Chytonian common-speech. "I'm Deborah Falken. My father sent me to meet you."

Anova inclined her head at the words, keeping her face expressionless while her mind worked quickly to come up with the appropriate response. Daughter. Daughter. That meant one of two things: he didn't think they were worthy to meet them himself, so he sent a proxy that could be considered an honor in itself; or he was unable to meet them personally, so sent the highest substitute he could manage. Just what his black-eyed daughter turned out to be like would determine which.

"Yes," she agreed, "I am Anovadiell, this is my brother and colleague Terramintin." No sense hiding that they were siblings; she knew they had the same surnames, though from the way those dark eyes glanced back to 'Mint when they had the chance, Anova rather wished she could have.

"A pleasure," 'Mint said with a smile, taking his turn to show off his courtly manner with a graceful bow, one indicating gallantry and assumed equality between dignitaries. The implications were probably lost on the girl, who, though she had surprised Anova with command of their speech, surely could not be as well-versed in calyon courts as she was in Chytonian common. She was surprised, and obscurely annoyed, to see the brunette beauty bob slightly in as close an approximation of a curtsey of equal meaning as a lady without volumous skirts could manage. The smile on her face as she rose was oddly pleased, and her eyes stayed on 'Mint's broad shoulders and handsome face far longer than a cursory glance would have entailed. Anova hurried to take back control of the conversation-- or at least direct it away from her brother.

"It is an honor to meet you and be here in your own city, and I look forward to meeting your father."

"It is an honor to have you," Deborah answered smoothly, smiling at her in a friendly way that always made Anova suspicious; the girl hardly knew her, so she had no reason to be friendly unless she wanted something. "Father sends his apologies that he couldn't make it to meet you, himself," she continued, "but there was a sudden meeting of the city Ministers. I'm sure you know how those things are."

"Indeed," Anova said, nodding. As much as she hated to admit it, this woman knew her stuff.

"If you two are feeling up to it, after your trip," Deborah suggested, "I could show you around the station."

Discipline and training kept Anova from pursing her lips. The woman obviously intended for them to go on this tour; it was a standard stalling technique, one Anova was used to since many people she was forced to visit for the first time had simply not believed or understood just how handicapped she was, and had to alter her rooming accommodations accordingly. Even if that was not the case here, they certainly couldn't be ushered directly to her father, and the girl might not have anything else planned for them to do if they said no. It was only a polite part of the ritual of visitation to make sure it was all right to go on said tour; no one was really expected to refuse.

So, with misgivings, but seeing no other choice, Anova agreed.