“I see that good manners are not one of your failings . . .” my sister
with the glowing blue wings sighs, shaking her head slightly.
“Truer words have never been spoken,” I mutter to myself as I continue
with my tricorder scans of the surrounding area after a slight
demonstration of magical might.
No one was injured, but quiet a few thugs got singed when they tried to
disprove the idea that a "mere" female could be dangerous, magically.
NOW their muttering darkly about Rei being a witch (something that irks
my sister I know and God only knows how these idiots are pushing their
luck heere), but they're staying back and out of our hair. Good.
. . .
But that still said!
Snirk, I still cannot believe that I am using an actual piece of
equipment from a reality based upon that absolutely horrid scifi
show: Star Trek!! I’m told that in worlds other than this . . .er. . .
Other than the one I haled from that series didn’t shoot itself in the
foot with what Rodenberry pulled with his one (and mercifully only)
Star Trek movie!
I guess I should accept the idea that in some realities out there the
movie executives had been enough on the ball to reign in that boob before
putting in that material that turned a mediocre film into something that
ruined the entire franchise.
But it’s hard to try to do it and not snicker at the idea of Star
Trek....
Eh, whatever. At least the flesh and blood versions of those scifi TV
rejects are a lot more . . .likable.
That and more intelligent! Not like certain OTHER flesh and blood
people before us!
Honestly, if it wasn’t for how intelligent Astra was I would have
figured this place was one of those brain damaged funhouse mirror
realities of Terra Prime: a place I have YET to set food upon. Terra
Prime, for all it’s weirdness, is at least normal in what I believe . . .
. . .
Nevermind. Know I should be (and AM) more charitable to others about
me. Some may even call me niave at times. Know that I find myself much
less . . .bold than I had been back whilst I wore the mantel of “Yui
Akari” or “Lilith the Second Angel”. Know that certain behavioral changes
have occurred within me because I no longer am shackled with the destiny I
was cursed with. Meaning that I probably sound too much like my old self
for comfort; to temperamental and such? Well, try dealing with most of
the people we’ve met so far and see how YOUR temper holds up to it.
OR how composed you’d be! I usually don’t go off even a little bit on
tangents like I just did here with you, reader.
Or is this tendency to go off on tangents part and parcel of me fully
becoming human? Or returning . . .was I human before being cursed to
wear the mantel of an NGE Angel named? Maybe. I’m . . .still kind of
settling into the role of being my own person and not some puppet on the
strings of Fate.
Uh, anyway! Back to “my” and my sisters retelling of our Initiation
Quest.
Well, as it is Scarface, Mikey, Red and Bill (names we learn over the
course of rather tense things) are at least smart enough to not push the
matter as I scan our surroundings (or namely that large opening in the
rooftop which I am happy to say leads OUT).
It appears that big sister was right! Dragons do like having a means
of exiting their lairs easily without resorting to merely shifting into
human form for the smaller entryways. Human seemings for dragons--while
nice-- don’t enjoy the scalely armor, fiery breath, and sharp teeth their
natural forms have, you know. Most dragons like to not have to worry
about being injured (or ambushed) easily whenever entering or leaving
their Lairs.
Or so Mum and Dad tell me.
But anyway, Rei had been correct! There IS a way out of this Lair,
accessible only to a dragon: a steeply climbing shoot out into the open
that was probably guarded by spell traps and such.
Risky for us but we DO need to leave and don’t most spells end with the
death of their creator? That’s the hope, anyway as I pull out some things
from the gear Rei’s given me.
Astra
I pause in dawning the arms and armor (MY very own gear that that
monster had taken from me whilst it’s prisoner) and blink at what I’m
seeing here.
I hadn’t noticed what my strange benefactors’ actions until just this
moment, more lost in revelling at being . . . Complete again.
It felt so good to hold my sword again. . . .the extension of my
will. . . .
"Uh . . .?" I blink, sounding truly . . .lackwitted at the moment.
"How in the name of God did you manage to pull all that out of
just two small bags, woman of the white fuzzy appendages on her back?!"
Eve asks, putting to word (albeit awkwardly) the very question thundering
about in MY head.
-
 "Well . . .it has to do with something called these 'bags of holding' having access to someplace called 'hammerspace'," Reika begins.
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