Chapter 1
"When a devil falls in love, it's the most hauntingly beautiful thing ever. And you should be terrified, for he will go to the depths of Hell for her."–Unknown
'The night we met I knew I needed you so, and if I had the chance I'd never let you go, so won't you say you love me, I'll make you so proud of me, we'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go,so won't you, pl-please, be-be m-m-my, b-b-be m-m-m-y b-b-aby.'
Mirasal reaches over and slams her polished silver prosthetic fist on the antique radio, causing the song to resume. Her azure eyes still pointedly on her work, a bundle of multi-colored wires in her flesh hand. The red, green and blue intertwined with each other into a coil. They were part of an unknown gadget she'd found in an abandoned ship. It had started working, albeit briefly, before dying out again. It was most likely from the human world, like most the items she found. Given the shoddy design it must have been from quite a few decades ago.
She glances up, fidgeting in her chair, looking out of the large circular window at the three suns, one large one encompassed by two smaller ones starting to gradually descend towards the horizon, painting the sky a faded blue-pink color. A light breeze made its way in where she'd opened the window pane just a crack, the sweet mountain air seeping in, the semi-transparent rose-colored curtains blowing faintly. The sound of the nearby river roaring below can be heard. The sunlight in the room was diminishing quickly, so she flicked the switch of the lamp that sits on the polished wooden desk, giving the area a soft glow, reflecting the red triangular pattern of her hat that rested on the back of her head.
Overlooking a magnificent landscape, the Hotel Terog was located near it's namesake river. Built into a large mountain near a picturesque grotto, the Terog had a colorful appearance; light blue exterior, trimmed with a pale pink and gold. The pillars and columns were all molded to mimic the shape of bones with rows of multi-colored tiles along the outer walls. Multiple statues of Arak and Rykan religious figures adorned the buildings edges, their fearsome expressions seemed to be glaring down at anyone who enters. Almost as if warning any outsiders to be respectful of their surroundings. It was much larger inside than it appeared on the out, the pathway leading up to the entrance was steep and rocky, surrounded by trees rocks and shrubs. The interior was decorated with the artwork of famed Thycenian artists that adorned the walls,crimson red carpets and shiny swirl-patterned floors polished to perfection. In recent years it had become something of a tourist destination. Hundreds of humans flocked through every year, so many her grandfather had now mostly avoided the place while her grandmother handled the management.
They had built it as a haven for artists to seek inspiration peace and tranquility. It had been their pride, a source of accomplishment, but they never intended for it to become any kind of attraction for visiting outworlders. But now it seems there was no stopping the draw that it held for people looking to enjoy the spectacular Tarrosian landscape. Mirasal could hardly blame them since it offers, in her opinion, one of the best views of Tarros' famed blue sunsets. Of course, she could be biased in that regard.
"She didn't say much…just that she wanted to be alone." Tomah informs Kikara as she stands outside Mirasal's door, arms across chest, listening to the muffled sound of the music on the other side. "So, you think it's just one of her moods?" she says as she turns to him, the tip of her sandal drumming on the ground.
"Yes. It looks like one of her moods," he states dryly. "I mean, she didn't say anything other than that." he shrugs as his thin scraggly fingers adjust a small centerpiece on a stand near the window. Kikara gives a small nod, flipping her mane of thick light brown locks over her shoulders as she picks up a gold metal object sitting on the table, knocking lightly as she opens the room's door. "Buna diwas."
"Buna." Mirasal replies, not looking back as Kikara stood in front of the silver-framed mirror hanging on the creamy peach wall. The light on the other side of the room altering the bright orange of her dress to something more muted.
Mirasal enjoyed Kikara's company. Mainly because she's more content to just listen. And Kikara is more than happy to do all the talking. Usually about the goings-on at the hotel involving the guests; who she thinks is sleeping with who, who's got a lover, who is acting a bit shady and may be on the run from something. Those guests that sneak out to the hotel's bar after their spouse has long gone to sleep.
"I see you have that Eartho music playing again. Why do you listen to that?" Kikara asks as she preens herself, looking at her reflection.
"Because I like it. I enjoy it. It's soothing in a way." Mirasal pulls her eyes away from her preoccupation long enough to glance over at her friend. Earth music hadn't gained much popularity here but she loved listening to it. It was different. More lively than the music from her own culture.
Clearly someone disagrees.
"Really? All of it just sounds like noise to me. All that yelling. Unpleasant," Kikara looks over at her, tearing herself away from her grooming. She then wanders over to the bed, the padding of the carpet silencing her steps. She plops down on the end of the mattress, right near Mirasal's chair, the comforter a near-match for her frock. "That song sounds alright, I suppose." She still didn't get the draw.
The women sit in silence as the melodic sound of the music replaces their voices, before Kikara speaks up, tapping the heel of her foot against the ground, blowing a curl out of her line of vision.
"You've been in here for a while."
"I needed a little break." Mirasal murmurs, her voice flat, gaze still on her project.
Kikara's foot halts it's tapping as she takes in a slow inhale.
"Um, a guest mentioned your…attitude. Not entirely sure what that means. She just said you had one," Mirasal loudly exhales as Kikara continued. "I know you probably didn't mean to offend her," she looks away, mouth tugged up in a half-sneer. "The old bruga can't be satisfied, it seems. Probably why her mate has been sneaking off at night."
Mirasal squeezes her eyelids shut, shaking her head, her fingers tightening around the wires in her grasp. "She was yelling, I didn't know how to respond." The woman's shrill voice had felt like it was piercing through her eardrums. She shudders, her lips pursing tightly together. She needed a few minutes to herself to unwind from the experience. She may be occasionally, unintentionally tactless in her behavior, but she never got in someone's face and shouted.
Certainly not over something as trivial as a pair of slippers.
"I know, but maybe try not to…I mean she just thought you were-" Kikara adds, stretching her arm around to give the lower part of her spine a small scratch. "A little rude. And again I know you don't mean to be. It's just we all must make an effort. No matter how…unpleasant."
"I tried. I said she was yelling and I got overwhelmed." Mirasal gives another heavy sigh. People often misconstrued her behavior. She can at times come off as indifferent, but it was never intentional. Here it had been near-impossible to not get consumed. Her military job was, amazingly, not as stressful as this. She's just grateful this wasn't a full-time occupation. How Kikara and the others managed to handle it year-round is beyond commendable.
Kikara hunches her upper body forward, bringing her elbows to rest on her knees. "I know it can be tumultuous, especially around this time, but we really appreciate you helping. Even if it's only for a while." Mirasal gives a barely-audible hum in response. Kikara straightens up. "Good, now that that's out of the way. It broke again."
Mirasal pushes her bottom lip out, sending a brief impassive look out the window before turning it to look back. "Again huh?"
Her metal chair squeaks as she swiveled it to face Kikara as she reached over to her side, lifting up her cherished item, it's golden surface reflecting the lamp light on the desk, streaking it in bright yellow swirls. Mirasal shuts off the radio as she tilts forward.
"I brought it with me. It keeps flipping and showing the same picture over and over," Kikara explains, giving a quick animated hand wave. "Susa. I can't part with it." she gives a lopsided smile, her red-brown eyes switching between it and her friend with an expectant expression.
"Let me see it," Mirasal puts her hands out, palms facing up, and the item is promptly placed in them. "I'll have it fixed sometime by tomorrow I'm sure. It's probably the same issue as before," She looks it over, turning it around in her hands, tapping it with her metal finger. She lifts it to her eyes, gazing through the lens, which displayed a beautiful scene of thyacosma cubs with their mother. She knew the artist Tama Shiropelli was a friend of her grandparents. "Yes, it's probably the spring. It's an old model you know," she pauses. "Did you drop it again?"
Kikara's face twists into a grimace. "No, not really…" She hung her head a little, bringing her shoulders up. Mirasal stares at her, tapping the item with her metal finger.
Kikara's hands shoot up. "Alright…maybe it took a tumble down the stairs, but that's all. A simple accident."
Mirasal lets her head fall back against the back of her chair, exasperated. "You know you need to be more care-"
"I know! Absolutely. But this will be the last time I swear," she grabs it from Mirasal's clutches. "It was masare's." she looks it over, trailing her fingertips along the pattern of leaves. "I just can't part with it," she lifts her chin at the desk."You understand. You keep that ugly old thing," she points at Mirasal's vintage radio, with it's worn-out, scratched-up surface and aged buttons. "Look at that! Why do you keep it? It's hideous!"
"It works though," Mirasal gives the top a sharp pat, switching it on, toying with the volume. "Just because something is old, doesn't mean it can't still be useful."She gently takes back Kikara's heirloom from her grasp. "You should understand that too."
"But this is more beautiful than that thing." Kikara argues, still pointedly eyeing the radio, before she notices Mirasal's dejected visage.
"Susa, I just don't understand why you want to keep it, that's all." she says in a tone that's just above a whisper.
Mirasal ignores this comment as she examines the heirloom. "I will fix this. It's just the design of this model is so poor." It could only take so much abuse. The treatment of what was supposed to be a family heirloom was a little appalling. This is the third time she's been asked to repair it; the first when Kikara's nephew had thought it was a toy and broke one of the lenses, which Mirasal had to replace.
Kikara, deciding not to pursue the matter of the ugly old radio further, tipped her head. "Didn't your ahauvo paint that image?" She taps the glass lens.
"No, that was Shiropelli," Mirasal rises up from the chair, switching off the lamp and radio. "The girls are coming soon."
They'd spent the day with her grandparents and her grandfather was due to bring them back soon. She placed Kikara's item among her other treasures scattered on the desk. She'll work on it later.
"They're going with him right?" Kikara stood up and started to follow her.
"Yes and they are really excited…well at least Sarez is. Ineti is a little…reluctant." A week of camping and painting was going to be a dream for her youngest. Her eldest was another matter.
Mirasal headed out the room's door, carved with numerous elegant designs and images of aralia birds and Thycenian Gods and Goddesses wielding spears. The elaborate doors of the building told in carvings the myths and legends of the planet.
Kikara brushes a stray ringlet out of her face. "That's good. They are such happy girls. I'd say they are doing well now. Under the circumstances anyway. After what happened."
Mirasal glances back at her, giving a small smile. She slows her pace a little, suddenly stopping, her eyes narrowing.
"Miri?" Kikara's voice broke her train of thought. "Susa, I forgot…"
Mirasal waves her good hand, a silent signal not to pursue it. She gave her another smile, one that didn't really meet the sides of her face.
They reach the first floor, stepping out into the lobby, where they hear the pattering sound of feet running in the distance.
"Masare!" Sarez called out as she ran into Mirasal's arms. "I missed you!" She swings the girl around balancing her on her hip, although she was getting a little big to hold. "Aww, I missed you too. Where's Ineti?" Her eyes searched around, looking for her eldest.
"There," Sarez points down the threshold. "In there."
"Well, let's go see her." Sarez slid down out of her arms, clutching her doll. The one her grandmother had made her, one of it's eyes dangling by a single thin thread.
Taking Sarez by the hand, she lead her daughter down the hall as Kikara followed close by. Soon her grandfather Galiago emerges from the room to the left, Ineti grasping his hand. The tall, gangly girl beamed as her mother approaches. Galiago gives Mirasal a nod.
"They were good," his voice, monotonous deep and low. "Except Sarez fell down a mudslide."
Mirasal looks down at her youngest, who was trying to obscure her head with her doll. Galiago gave a short laugh, eyeing the smaller girl, who was peeking out from behind her favored toy, a toothy grin on her face. "She loves the mischief."
Before Mirasal could respond, two human women approach. Both dressed in floral print dresses, lips and cheeks painted with the gaudy bright face paint so common among human females.
"Isn't she adorable!" One kneels down by Sarez, who jumped backwards, her doll suddenly becoming a shield.
"They are precious." The second one went to pinch Ineti's cheeks, who ducs behind Galiago, clutching at his arm.
Mirasal lifts her hand up. "Don't do that, pacero, she-"
Suddenly, the first woman reaches out to repeat the same gesture to Sarez, who nips at her finger, letting out a little growl.
"Oh!" The woman's hand shot back as she quickly rose up, her eyes fixed on the girl. "Well they are dear." She gave a fleeting, forced smile as the women quickly scurried down the hall. The sounds of their heels can be heard shuffling against the floor.
"Let's go." Mirasal gently maneuvers Sarez by the hand in the other direction. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the women make their exit, unaware the hushed tones between each other were still audible to Thycenian ears.
"Their children are so feral."
The following morning, Mirasal, Sarez, Ineti, Galiago and Kikara are seated around a round table decorated with a large red plant as a centerpiece and a coral table cloth. Tall, narrow stained glass windows aligned the room, flooding it with breathtaking rainbow light, reflecting off the exquisite gold silverware. The sound of glasses clinking and voices chattering flutter through the air.
Sarez clutched her doll tightly to her chest as she fumbled with her utensils. Ineti ate quietly, slowly taking her time. Kikara's eating habits were what one would expect from someone with a restless personality, rapidly putting bite after bite into mouth. Mirasal's own plate had each bit of food separated; not touching, not mixed together and assorted by color. Her mother was always frustrated with her daughter's eating habits. Foods cooked at different temperatures were not ever gong to be on her plate together. Anything mixed was promptly separated.
Galiago glances over at her dish and gave a small smile. His own plate also neatly arranged and sorted.
He then proceeded to look around at all the human tourists, a somewhat lost expression on his face, grumbling to himself as he brought his eyes back to his dish.
Mirasal peers over at him. "I know you used to love this room. but…" she lets her voice trail off a bit. "It's good for business."
His eyebrows raise. "That it is, that it is." As he returned to his food, Kikara suddenly perks up.
"This time of nero is usually the best." she grins at Galiago, who grunts, giving her a side glance, his fork clinking against the pearly-white glass of his dish, now almost empty.
"Hopefully, we won't get another incident like the one with that human Duchess." he mutters as Mirasal shifts in her seat, sending a look in Kikara's direction. Her friend drops her head, eyes roaming over her food.
"I don't think she was a real one." Mirasal suggests. No, real members of royalty didn't behave like she did. They tend to refrain from drawing attention to themselves as they come to the hotel for the anonymity it offers. She did the opposite. Her eagerness in showing off her 'riches' was a dead giveaway.
Kikara remains mute, face down, pushing bits of food around with her fork. Occasionally her eyes curve up to glance in either direction of the other two adults at the table.
Galiago blew a weary sigh through his lips. "Real or not, we can't have that happen again. The scene she made. That was an embarrassment-and bad for the hotel."
They continue eating silently before Galiago speaks up again. "I made a case for the medals. I know you like the one you keep them in, but it's old and falling apart, so I made a new one," he takes a bite before he continues. "It's back at the house, but I can bring it to you when we return."
"I don't have them," Mirasal suddenly sits back in her chair, dropping her fork against her plate. She slouches, arms folded.
Galiago's head abruptly lifts up. "Imarito's medals! You didn't keep them?"
Nearby guests turned their heads in their direction.
Mirasal leans in over her dish. "Tapia has them." she whispers through gritted teeth.
"What the iado is she doing with them?"
"She took them after he died," she falls back against the chair again. "The girls said she came in while I was away. She refuses to return them," she tapped her foot, gnawed on her lip, keeping her arms folded across her. She suddenly reaches up and took a few strands of hair in her flesh hand and twirls it. "I can't get them back."
"Don't worry," Galiago says, doing a gentle reassuring gesture of his hand. "We will, we will."
She ran her flesh hand repeatedly over her mane. Her foot still heatedly tapping, as she slides her dish away from her.
Lucinda and Hank Dobson arrive that morning with their young son, Colin in tow, along with several pieces of luggage, large and small. Kikara greets them at the entrance. "Buna diwas!"
Mrs. Dobson is the first to respond to the welcome. "Hello…can you take these please?" She hands a small, brown suitcase to Kikara, who grasps the gold metal handles of the surprisingly heavy item. "And be careful, my most valuable things are in that one."
Despite her curt manner, Mrs. Dobson, a striking woman with jet black hair and a tiny waist is giving a warm smile. "I'm sorry, my dear, it's just I have one particular item in that one that's very valuable and can't be replaced." Her husband is a nondescript-looking kind of man, with a head of thinning brown hair and a white polo shirt with plaid pants.
"Hello," he grabs Tomah's hand as he takes his luggage. "Nice place you got here." Tomah, bristling somewhat at the gesture, gives an affirmative nod. Humans were all about hand shakes on first meeting, something he'd yet become accustomed to.
Little Colin is dragging his own fairly large white suitcase with his small hands, plastered with stickers of various cartoon characters and 'Colin' written in bold dark-blue letters across the surface. A scraping sound follows him as he pulls it along the floor.
"Hey little one, let Tomah take that," Kikara glances back and gives a little gesture with her hand. "Go ahead."
Tomah moves to liberate the boy from his struggle, the child giving a him a look of relief.
"What's in this?" Tomah teases, lifting the suitcase languidly up and down. "It's like carrying a load of rocks."
Colin grins, displaying his deep dimples and gap-tooth. "It's my toy soldiers and their tanks. They're very heavy." he giggles, dimples deepening on either cheek. He freezes when he sees his mother's stern look.
"Oh, and my clothes and stuff. I packed it myself!" He stands looking proud, sticking his chest out, the cartoon duck printed across the front of his red shirt prominent and misshapen around the outline of his belly.
"Aw, that's great!" Tomah gives him a light head pat."I couldn't be bothered at your age. Ha!"
The group make their way down the lobby towards the large majestic stairwell, dominated at the end of each railing by a statue of a thyacosma, a neutral expression embedded into their features, showcasing the animals peaceful nature. Kikara points up towards the top. "I'll show you to your room."
As the family make their way up the steps, little Colin tugs on Tomah's light orange vest.
"That cave out back?" Tomah halts, looking down at the boy. "Is it haunted? My friends told me it was."
"No, most you'll find is stunebugs," Tomah says breezily. "Just animals make their home there. Like these," he points to one of the statues at the foot of the railing. "And they're not going to harm you. No spirits though. Your friends were mistaken." He continues his climb up the steps, when he glances over his shoulder to see if the boy is following along, he stops.
The color of Colin's cheeks has drained. "Bugs…?"
Tomah whirls around with his free hand up. "No, no, no. They're pretty harmless." Though the red and black insects do sting if affronted, but it's seldom. He thinks it best not to tell the boy, as he is already a little apprehensive. He'll relate the warning to his parents.
In the room, as the family settles, Colin approaches the window, gazing down at the aforementioned cave.
Seeing this,Tomah puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"No phantoms. I assure you." Colin looks up smiling as the light from the window highlights his blonde hair with golden streaks. His green pupils darted back to the dark entrance, visible but still foreboding in the daylight.
This is the reason he would've rather gone to the beach.