Dancing in the Clouds (Part 2)

The crowd jostled Tsiella like its own localized hurricane, and she wasn’t yet sure how she felt about that. It seemed like the whole of Tsaurre had turned out for this one show, though logically she knew that if that were the case no one would be able to move. She pushed through the crowd, then rolled her eyes as that got her nowhere.

Well, nothing else for it. She turned her gaze upward, willing the wind to carry her upward. She heard a couple of gasps–were ñæchiæ really so unheard of in Tsaurre?–and continued to sail into the sky, eventually coming to rest on a rooftop several buildings away. She smoothed out her skirts and froze as she realized she wasn’t alone. A silver tabby soul regarded her with a frown.

“Normally people pay extra to get out of the crowd,” they said.

Her whiskers flicked up in alarm. “Sorry–how much?” she asked, reaching for her coin pouch.

“Oh, don’t scare her, Guav,” came another voice. “I thought that was cool.”

She looked over and her eyes widened. Seated at a table not far away was…well, not an Ortuxan. Was this one of the Sciftans people had told her about? But no–there was an actual Sciftan sitting at the same table, and he looked like a weird pointy Ortuxan with dense golden fur. The one who had spoken had a completely furless face, save for a ring of brown around his mouth. He seemed to notice her staring and his face, oddly, turned red.

What did that mean?

“There aren’t many ñæchiæ in Tsaurre,” the first one–the only normal one, it seemed–said. “That was bound to have been noticed. And this is supposed to be a families-only spot. You want a crowd of people demanding entrance, Daybreak?”

Her mind reeled. Guav? Daybreak? Could “Guav” be short for “Guavato”? Then was this–

The heroes from the Sciftan war.

Her tail twitched, her fur spiking up in alarm. “I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your fur,” she said, turning to step off the edge again.

“’Ey, ya made it,” said a familiar voice behind her. She turned, the tension leaving her shoulders as she recognized the green-dyed dreadlocks of the soul from the ferry. They were entering the dining space with a tray containing a pitcher and several glasses, which they set on the table. “‘Ow’d ya know where ta fand me?”

“Kemö,” she said with relief. “I didn’t–it was an accident. I was just going.”

“Nah, stay,” they said, sitting down.

She eyed Guavato, who simply shrugged and sat down.

“If you’re friends with the family, I guess I don’t care that much,” they said. “But if anyone flies up here I’m kickin’ ‘em off.”

“Guavato.”

“What? If they can fly up, they can fly back down.”

She found herself smiling in amusement. She came over to sit next to Kemö, the smile turning apologetic as she looked at the strange Ortuxan. He had a lot of oddities, she realized. One eye and an arm were cybernetic, and his face was still red–she wondered what that meant. He reached over to grab a glass and filled it up from the pitcher.

“Don’t mind my sibling too much. They don’t like most people,” he said. “I’m Daybreak. That’s Guavato, and this is Hiko.”

The Sciftan raised a hand and smiled, tail wagging–was he annoyed, too? Or was Sciftan body language just weird?–and reached up to pour his own glass.

“I’m Tsiella,” she said. “Kemö invited me from the ferry. I haven’t been to a concert before, so I thought it might be fun. I didn’t expect it to be so crowded.”

“Neither did we,” Daybreak admitted. “I probably shouldn’t have closed the gallery. I run an art gallery,” he added when she looked confused.

“Ah just met these guys,” Kemö said. They grabbed two glasses and filled both of them, passing one to Tsiella and sipping happily from their own. “Never tried this authentic stuff. Tha desert sure has some good stuff.”

Tsiella sniffed at the glass she was offered. It smelled fresh, almost tropical. She gave it a hesitant sip, purring in pleasant surprise at the taste. “This isn’t alcoholic, is it?” she asked.

“Nah. Alcohol’s more of a private drink here,” Daybreak said. “Besides, half of us have kits to get back to after Rossco’s little party.”

“Rossco?” she asked.

Kemö grinned. “Mah niece. Ah told ya, didn’t ah?”

“Then…you really are the team that won the war.”

Thump.

She looked over at Guavato, whose tail was a lot more active than it had been a moment ago. Turning back to Daybreak, she saw he wore a somber expression now, eyes tilted down.

She decided to change the subject.

“I don’t see much of the world outside the docks,” she said. “My merr and I run the ferry between Tsaurre and the southwest islands.”

“Oh, really? Is that hard work?” The Sciftan spoke up now, his tail also more active. He seemed interested, which probably meant that the tail thing was somehow the opposite of Ortuxans’ tail thing.

“Can’t be that hard,”Kemö put in. “Ah caught ‘er dancin’ in tha skah lahke a kikifeu.” They smiled and pressed briefly against her, hinting that that had been a joke.

She chuckled and took another sip of her drink.

“How’s it going, Tsaurre!” came the magnified voice of another queen, and the crowd roared in response. Tsiella’s ears perked up–the show was starting! She felt like a kit, watching the crowd.

“No way Rossco of all people pulled this many people by herself,” Hiko said.

“She’s opening for a bigger band,” Daybreak explained.

Tsiella put her drink down and came over to sit at the edge–on the opposite side from Guavato, whose tail thankfully didn’t make a disapproving gesture, though they eyed her warily. She smiled at them, then turned back to the crowd, looking at the stage. There stood three–no, two figures, the third was in a wheelchair. That person was behind a wall of hand drums ranging from small to large, and was tinking together a set of zills as the queen in front goaded the crowd.

“Stormfeather has a great show for you tonight!” she called into the mic, strumming her kitær. “But first, get ready to have your ears shredded!”

“If they’re anything like they sounded in my tædhe the other day, I don’t think she means ‘shredded’ in a good way,” Guavato huffed.

Tsiella stifled a snort.

The small queen counted down, and the three of them began. It was an odd mixture of flute, kitær, and hand drum, but the notes danced in Tsiella’s head like clouds on the breeze. 

“In the fall of the seasons we slumber

In the eye of the storm we arise

And I’m callin’ for blood and for thunder

And I’m callin’ for lightning to strike!”

“Did they work on one song the whole time?” Guavato muttered to themself, Tsiella only barely catching the words. Regardless, there was a slight upward curve to their lip, and their fingers drummed on their knee to the tune.

The others came to join the two of them on the edge. Daybreak sat closest to his sibling, though gave them a little room, and Kemö plopped down next to Tsiella. The five of them watched the crowd swirl like the hurricane Tsiella popped out of.

Despite Guavato’s comment, the band played five more songs, which seemed to be well-received. Tsiella didn’t hear any hissing, at least. At the end, the grey-and-white queen went for the mic again, her tail swishing with excitement.

“You kids better treat Stormfeather better than you treated us!” she jeered. “Thank you, Tsaurre, and good night!”

The crowd cheered, a lot of it laughter from her joke, as the three headed off stage. Tsiella found herself cheering along with them, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said to Kemö, who laughed.

“Ah, that was only my ear,” they said. “And Rossco did a good job a’ blastin’ that off already.”

The five of them got up, all heading back to the table–Guavato as well, though they kept out of “accidental jostling” distance. Daybreak turned to Tsiella.

“Hey, if you want to come to more of these, we can let you know when they happen,” he offered. He took out a slip of paper and wrote something down. “Here, my wristbell tag.”

She blinked, but took the paper. “Thank you.”

“Hey, anything to keep you from accidentally flying into us,” Guavato said, though they sounded more amused about it now.

The show wasn’t over yet; there were several more bands before the headlining one, and Tsiella decided to stay for all of them. By the time the show was over and she had to leave, she’d become casual friends with the four of them, and with the members of Rossco’s band when they arrived after clearing off the stage. She skipped back to the docks, catching air on a few of her leaps.

“Ah, slow down, ya bobbin’ feather,” Kemö huffed as they tried to keep up.

She came down gently on the wooden pier, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I just haven’t had that much fun in…ever! I’m definitely coming to the next one.”

Kemö grinned. “Ah’m glad ah invited ya then,” they said. “Even if ya are a flighty one.”

“I could take you flying, too,” she offered.

They shook their head. “Ah get wind enough on tha ferry,” they pointed out.

As they headed back to the ferry, she looked up at the darkening sky, feeling a thrill of excitement. That show had felt like sky-swimming without actually taking to the air. And just like normal sky-swimming, she couldn’t wait to do it again.