AN: Woo, new story! This is purely a work in progress, and I'll do my bestest to update this and The Choices We Make at the same time. I have done this before, trust me, so it should be like riding a bike... right? *nervous chuckles*

Anyways! I have two extra specially made cyber cakes to present to my two main muses: one to Jaden Anderson, who helped me shape the world Q'ara lives in and let me bounce some ideas off of her, for which I'm really grateful! And the other to Eve Hawk, for being my other idea-bouncer-offer (if that makes sense at all), and proofreading my new language and thinking it was absolutely kick-ass, even without reading the translations... that was relieving news to hear! xD Enjoy your cakes, ladies, for they're well-deserved!

Pronunciations: Q'ara Tyieri (KEH-rah tee-EH-ree); Iteco Tyieri (ee-TEH-koh tee-EH-ree); Avaria (ah-VAH-ree-ah)

Bioware owns Dragon Age; I own Terra XII and any and all occupants. xD

The streets of Steel Town were silent. Granted, the late hour could contribute to the silence, but she knew with every fiber of her being that there would at least be someone awake and working on any random flight of fancy, or last second deadlines. The lack of noise pressed down on her ears, as if making her try to crumble under the weight of it.

Q'ara Tyieri, fellow resident of the district known by the locals as Steel Town, pulled the hood up to her overcoat and simply walked faster. It was hardly safe to travel alone nowadays, especially for people like her. Contrary to the pitch given to the residents of the homeland of her however-many-great grandparents, the revolutionary land of the future had its downside.

Terra XII, one of the many newest planets discovered by long dead scientists in a space age, when the only thing that could be believed was that there was a vast amount of undiscovered universe around them, could be comparable to the Earth she had learned of in the history classes in school... if only up to a certain point. From the sounds of it, it was borderline barbaric with so many social stigmas, environmental crises, and overall tension in the world's population. However, since people tended to be people and aspire in great lengths, there was tension in the population of the newly discovered world as well. Q'ara liked to think that the populated parts of her home planet had a certain flair with dealing with things, though.

The life of a resident in Steel City was simple, uncomplicated. When all one cared for was manipulating metal and ore into genuine creations, whether practical or artistic, it could fill ones focus, be ones drive, and become ones contented lifetime of the wonderful material. The same way applied to those that lived on the farms, or in the avid desert areas. They did what they did and were content with it, resolving problems in their own inner circles with people that could easily relate to the problem and know best how to solve it.

There were others in the world, like herself for example, that could take their lifestyle a step further than the rest. Those others could take the matter around them, truly understand it for what it is, and manipulate it to their own whims. They also lived accordingly to said manipulations, at least in the norm. Those that could control the water either gathered around lakes, streams, or under the surface of larger bodies of water; those that gravitated to the earth carved their homes into the earth itself, from tunneling into small hills to carving breathtaking structures into mountains; fire manipulators mainly stuck to the deserts, living in simple yet intricate mudbrick houses that had open roofs for any burst of fire to escape from; the ones that took to the air most often lived in amazingly tall skyscrapers, not just restricted to one area like the rest and therefore making them mainly messengers or transporters... when they managed to stop thrill-seeking. The rest of the planet had stretches of unexplored land, home to unknown dangers that would make appearances brief enough to enrich stories told to misbehaving children to put them back in line.

Q'ara, on the other hand, was part of the gifted metal manipulators, therefore making her living in Steel City. The tall buildings around her, even now, were singing to her senses in their special ways, nearly drowning out her own thoughts and troubles. She ducked in between the iron wrought gates, her hands lingering against the latch as it was pulled closed. It sang to her, hummed under her skin, so tempting as it clanged together. Sadly, she was running a bit late as it was, and there was always more metal to be had. Pulling away from it, she started up the stairs to her home, a tall apartment building owned solely by herself and her father.

The house key greeted her like an old friend as it was pushed into the lock, admitting her into the entry floor, used mainly for socializing. A passing maid stopped as she saw Q'ara enter. "Good evening, my lady," she greeted softly, curtsying.

"Not yet," she murmured as the door closed behind her. Louder, she asked, "Where is my father?"

"In the Green Room, my lady."

Of course, why did I expect any different... she thought to herself, dismissing the maid with a curt nod as she started up the stairs. The room in reference was once her mother's, full of plants that let her mother, an earth manipulator, feel more at home in a city of steel. Q'ara, personally, thought it more of a barbaric practice, nothing like the sharp refineries that could be gifted from working with metal (which she did know well enough to be closer to earth than the rest of the elements). Since her passing when Q'ara was only three, her father had often spent his time in there, caring for the plants that were left behind. A manipulator he was not, but a man lost in the kind of love that was damn near eternal...

She shook her head at the thought. Maybe it was just due to her young age, but while his pining for a lost love could be deemed as romantic, having it suck up so much of one's time seemed like a waste. She banished such thoughts from visually darkening her mood as she opened the glass doors, admitting her to an abundance of foliage.

Her father, Iteco, looked up from one of the numerous plants he was tending to see who was entering, relaxing with relief as he saw his daughter. "You're late," he kindly chastised her.

Q'ara smirked, closing the door behind her. "Sorry, the appointment took a bit longer than I thought it would."

Setting down his watering can, he looked on with interest. "Another one, huh... Any chance of showing me?"

"You know, your interest in my growing number of piercings is a tad bit disturbing," she joked with him, slanting a sideways playful glare as she slipped out of her coat, the decorative metal pieces and inlays clinked together as she draped it over her arm.

"And from a father to a daughter, I do still have a say on what's going too far." He folded his arms as he waited, a smile beginning to quirk the edges of his mouth.

"Alright, I give," she acquiesced, pushing her thick blond hair back behind her left ear. A new appearance of silver tracing around the shell could be spotted, with the actual piercing itself being closer to the top of the design. Three fancier scrollwork designs were interspersed into the ear wrap, one above and two below the actual post.(*) As he stepped forward for a closer look, she tilted her head into the light, the metal gleaming from it. "Silver for your thoughts?"

Iteco shook his head, before holding her head in his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "That you'll always be my darling daughter... and try to schedule these during the day, if you're going to keep pursuing this lifestyle."

As if she could really help herself there; like her mom enjoyed surrounding herself with plants, Q'ara enjoyed having as much metal in her possession as possible. Multiple piercings, random metal-made knick knacks, numerous unfinished projects that she grew bored of, even where they lived... though it didn't matter to her father. He was simply smart enough to know where to take her raw talent and ambition, marketing certain creations just so to benefit them.

Her right arm was such a one. Made of titanium, it was lightweight and could function normally, yet be strong and durable enough in ratio to not hinder working. It was the first of its kind, and- Q'ara most sincerely hoped- would be successful enough to become part of a fashion niche for the upper classed citizens. Her specific prototype was equipped as a future model for soldiers and explorers, however, at her father's suggestion and of wanting to think far enough ahead to explore uncharted lands... and, of course, to protect what was most precious to him.

Still, she had to scoff at her father's hidden warnings over her safety. "C'mon, dad. If everyone continues jumping at shadows and saying that the sky's falling- like they have for a few decades now, might I add- we'll soon be the first ones to jump ship and start searching for a new planet to live on."

"There are very real dangers out there," Iteco insisted, turning back around to the plants. "To go on these flights of fancy continually doesn't exactly lessen your chances of getting hurt."

"And between my bionic arm and the guards you insist on keeping on my tail the times I do go out during the day, I didn't really have any chances to begin with."

Silence fell between the duo, neither backing down from their stance, but not wanting to argue any further. It was more of a mutual understanding of this fact, not of what they felt about the issue.

He was the first to break the quiet. "There's still some dinner on the table."

She half shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry... I'm just going to go to my room for the night." It was a lie, but also a handy excuse to get away.

"Fair enough," her father replied. Q'ara turned and started back out of the room, prompting him to speak once more. "I love you, Q'ara."

"You too," she replied over her shoulder, opening the greenhouse door and exiting. The brisk walk to her room was filled with unvented thoughts about how her father still felt the need to coddle her like a child. She may still be a technical child in the eyes of their society, but if one was capable of making their own decisions, then more power to them!

The door to her room was firmly pushed shut behind her, not breaking stride as she tossed her coat onto her bed. The closet was her first destination, the double doors opened with a huff of breath. Really, if she had freakin' weapons installed in her arm, why did she even need guards in the first place? The blades were easy to release and retract, she always kept up on maintenance, and she never really had use for them before, so there essentially was nothing to be afraid of!

Clothes were tossed onto her bed as she vented her frustration, then quickly slipped on. She was running late, after all. Dark colored thigh highs were clipped into place with a garter, with a revealing one piece (cut down to where legs met torso and showing enough chest to give even the most chaste man pause) going on over that. At the top of her garter, fabric belts with metal inlays were strapped into place. A new overcoat was tossed on over that, lighter in bulk without the same metal inserts, but with a metal shoulder cuff sewn in on her left. The right sleeve was, understandably, nonexistent, as her bulkier-than-normal arm couldn't fit into sleeves properly. An arm that could be a great stand in as protection, she couldn't help but snark to herself.(**)

As she started trying to lace together to corseted detail in the front, the feeling of someone standing right in the doorway made her stop and turn. The door was still closed tightly from her earlier entrance, making her wonder. Was her father seriously going to post guards outside her door? Softly, she crept her way over and opened it as softly as she could... to only reveal an empty hallway on either side. Her brows furrowed in thought, ducking back in and quietly closing the door. Was she just imagining things?

A thump on the balcony outside of her bedroom made her smile. Seems she wasn't as late as she thought... Smiling now, Q'ara crossed her room to the curtained French doors and opened them to reveal her friend, Avaria... in a head-to-toe leather get up. She arched her brow at the sight. "Leather? Really?"

"What?" Avaria asked, smirking and doing a little twirl. "I found it in my mom's closet and kept it as a guilty pleasure. Sexy, huh?"

"And also outdated," Q'ara couldn't help but comment. "I mean, are those really tassels on your arm pieces?"

"You should see them go when I'm flying. That's all I have to say," Avaria insisted, stepping into Q'ara's room. It may have been a one piece suit, but it cut close to the air manipulator's curves, with the only metal on the outfit being the crotch to chest zipper holding it in place. Q'ara couldn't help but see exactly where the zipper stopped, cluing her in to what kind of mischief her friend was going to get in tonight. Her hastily put together updo was messy with the force of the wind blow, only kept out of her face by her trademark goggles. How Avaria always managed to look her best with mussed hair was something Q'ara would never understand...(***)

With her friend's help, Q'ara was laced into her jacket, and into her heeled saddle shoes, as Q'ara wrapped her tool pouch on the right side of her waist (one never knew when a tune up was needed her arm). Avaria examined Q'ara's new piercing as the strap of her last shoe was smoothed into place, dropping the group of hair back into place as Q'ara looked up. "Don't get me wrong, it's cute and all," Avaria assured Q'ara. "But just the one?" As Q'ara stuck her tongue out, Avaria laughed and added, "Thinking of a bolt there next?"

"Thank you, but no. I like my teeth too much."

"Never thought I'd see the day that you would just get one measly little thing, though..."

Q'ara shook her head, standing. "Get me drunk enough tonight and I'll show you the rest of them." A Cheshire cat grin spread as she started making her way over to the balcony.

Avaria gaped, standing herself and quickly following Q'ara. "West winds, Q'ara, you did not!"

Turning to silence Avaria, Q'ara admonished, "If we get caught before we get out, you'll never see them for yourself, will you?"

Avaria grinned, readying her flight chute. "So eager to leave, are we?"

"You have no idea..."

"Then you know the drill: grab your closest air manipulator friend and hang on, because it might be bumpy!" Q'ara did so, grabbing her normal hand as tight as she dared behind Avaria's back. She looked down to their shoes as she could just barely make out the small cyclone of wind starting to gather... It suddenly strengthened, rapidly pulling them upwards and bringing a surprised squeal from Q'ara. The force of it closed the French doors behind them with a slight tremble of glass, and just like that, she was gone.

o0o0o

In a different part of Steel Town, a tougher set of leather boots stepped in through the open door of one of the many part-time, work-out-of-their-home piercing artists, leading in a trio of identically clad people. They strode forward to a man who was sitting in the middle of the room, cross legged and deep in meditation. The meditating man was disturbed by a nudge to his knee, his eyes flying open. He craned his head back to look up, not looking the newcomer in the eyes, but at the clasp at his neck that glinted in the dim lighting of the room.

"Waar an g'aarl ras'ti?"(1) the newcomer spoke, the hiss customary to their language behind his words.

The meditator swallowed thickly before replying. "G'se paa'swe an daur uss..."(2)

Eyes narrowed, the newcomer leaned in closely, his voice shifting to more hiss than voice. "T'kuep na h'aar ssaek."(3) Satisfied with seeing the man tremble before closing his eyes once more, he straigthened and turned back. A couple of steps were taken before a choked strangle fell on his ears, drawing his attention to the left. A man who most likely was the owner of the house was laying sprawled in the doorway in between rooms, his face well bruised and bloody. The rest of his body wasn't faring any better, as evidenced by the blood staining his clothing. Any and all piercings were forcibly ripped from the man's body, as a start of the 'discreet' questioning his previous activities. The bloodied man shivered as he looked back at the unknown man. "P-p-please..." he managed to say, blood bubbling up from his lips.

The leader, in turn, looked around at the decor of the man's house. As could be expected of someone in the slums of Steel Town, scraps of varying sizes of metal were adorned on the walls... he supposed it was decoration. One said decoration was pulled off the wall, gently gliding by and suspending itself over the bleeding man. It was a rectangle shaped piece, one that was compressed in on the sides sharply to become little more than a pointed stick, pointed straight down at the man's chest.

"T'saaw'rr aame saeul-ta'rustii, sa'maal,"(4) the leader casually said, watching the man closely for his reaction.

The fallen man's arm started to raise up to said stretch of metal; the leader, guessing what would happen, slammed the point through the raising arm, pinning it to the floor. As the man shrieked in pain, the leader shouted over the cries. "T'saaw'rr aame saeul-ta'rustii, un t'ekssis!(4)"

"Damn you to the depths of the black magic!" the man shouted, unsure of what his torturers wanted, but not willing to give him an inch of wiggle room.

The leader growled openly, twisting the other pointed end of the stick to stab the man through his neck, ending his life. A long-suffering sigh spilled from his lips; so much trouble for one person... Addressing his followers, he said, "T'amaak ans gléne. Ch't'na gaare faaer daur an sa'maal."(5)

As one, the three men fell to one knee, touching two fingers to their foreheads, mouths, and hearts. "E'ta'rustii mé Ch'ruul!"(6) they cried, before doing as they were told.

The leader assumed a nonchalant stance in the doorway, his back to the soldiers accompanying him. The one assigned the meditating role continued to force himself to take deep breaths, because losing focus now meant much more than that. Redoubling his focus, his thumb rubbed over the half-smeared signature at the bottom of a slip of paper.

The signature once clearly read Q'ara Tyieri.

(*) pyramidcollection. com/ itemdy00. asp?ID=1, 623&GEN1= Earrings+% 26+Earwraps&T 1=J69809 &dispRow=26 9&src code=

(**) imdb. com/ media/ rm617512960/ tt0978764

(***) imdb. com/ media/ rm3905781760/ tt0978764

(1) Where is the girl (of metal)?

(2) She travels through the air.

(3) Keep searching for her.

(4) Swear fealty to me, lower one/and live.

(5) Clean this mess. We don't want to spread fear through the lower ones.

(6) I obey my Master!