To watch Cy and her ever present guards, Astrid and Kismet, you’d never know that the three of them had been raised in a very different world than the one they lived in now, a world full of customs, heritage, rules and regulations. They’d been trained to uphold the bloodlines, to never forget their roots, and to take part in the ancient customs. Perhaps the way their personalities had developed over the years had to do with the fact they’d been taken from their parent’s care to begin training before they were even three years old. Maybe it was the fact that they didn’t even remember having parents, maybe it was the fact they were just rebellious teenagers.

Whatever the reason, once the Ancient was given another generation of kits and cubs to train, they had lit off the islands as fast as they could. They’d been determined to leave behind their pasts, leave behind the rituals, the customs, the traditions, the history, and their roots. They just wanted to forget. To live.

Astrid and Kismet were twins, and cousins to Cy. They were both twenty-two years old, still considered a cub and a kit by their races standard, though their bodies were anything but. Astrid was exactly six feet tall, and as wiry as they came. He had hair blacker than ink that fell in gentle waves just past his waist, with the cutest little curl at the tip. He had fine, aristocratic facial features, with high cheekbones, hollow cheeks, and full, girlish lips. His amber-gold eyes were angled like a cat’s, and he had thin, finely arched eyebrows. His skin was an island bronze with a gorgeous olive glow to it. He was finely toned, with delicate, long fingered hands, tipped with sharp, pointed nails. His typical attire consisted of a tight white t-shirt, with the sleeves ripped off, and a very beat up and worn in leather jacket. His pants were so long they hid his feet, and dragged the ground, and the flare at the bottom was wider than his entire body. He had an overly large belt buckle with a skull across the front of it, and the weight of it caused his pants to sit low on his narrow hips. There was a constant strip of skin visible around his waist where his shirt and jacket were both too short to touch his pants.

To look at Kismet, you’d know right away that she was at least a sister to Astrid. She was shorter, only 5 foot seven inches, but the only differences in their faces were her lips were a little more sharp, her nose a little smaller, her eyes a little closer together and framed by thicker, longer lashes, and her eyebrows were thinner and more sharply arched. Her skin tone matched his, and she had the perfect hourglass figure. She had a longer torso than most girls, and was almost anorexicly thin, but it suited her. Her hair was the same inky black, but fell to her knees in the same gentle waves, with the same curl at the tip. Unlike how her brother’s bangs went to his chin, and framed his face, her longest bangs fell to her chest, the shortest to her eyebrow, and she was constantly pushing them out of her way. She dressed in a lime green halter-top that revealed far too much, and wore flared black pants, the bottom even wider than her brother’s. Her belt buckle nearly matched his, save for hers having a star in replace of the skull, and both had tribal tattoos across their shoulders and upper backs, tattoos that were constantly shifting and changing due to the magic that put them there.

Cy wasn’t exactly plain or ugly either. She was only five foot three inches, and so her cousins both nearly towered over her, and she was only nineteen years old. Her skin was a bit lighter in comparison to theirs, and instead of the amber-gold eyes, she’d inherited glossy grass green eyes. Her face was narrower and more angled than theirs, but she had the same delicate nose and angled lips as Kismet. Her eyebrows were fine and arched, and she had a cute mole under her right eye. Her eyes were wider and less sharply angled than the twins, but just as exotic. She certainly wasn’t as thin as Kismet, instead having a more athletic shape, with a modest chest, narrow hips, and lightly defined muscles. Her black hair wasn’t nearly as glossy or wavy as the twins, and it only fell to her midback in choppy layers. She had a stationary tattoo on her right shoulder, though still tribal in design. She had a shorter torso, and was more leg… the kind of more leg that as an adolescent she’d probably reminded people of a young colt. Her hands were less spidery than her cousin’s, and she wore black spiked bracelets on her wrists. She wore a black workout style tank top, that still showed too much skin for Astrid’s taste, but less than his sister’s. She wore leather pants, tucked into knee high boots, and a studded black belt with the same style buckle as the twins, save for hers having a tribal sun on it.

The three were indeed beautiful, exotic teenagers, but those who knew them knew they acted far from it. All three of them were very different from each other, despite how close they were, and some people reckoned the only reason the three of them stuck so closely together was the blood they shared. They were all they had left for family.

Now, I suppose the reader is curious as to why these three teens were so special that they needed to be taken away from their parents, to be trained on some remote island, in ancient ways that no one cares about, correct? Let’s hope so. You see, these three are of the Vallian race, native to the Witch Doctor Islands on planet Holic. Originally a morphic feline race, as the years went along, and outsiders made their way to the islands, the bloodlines have thinned and some have even disappeared. Most Vallians can blend in perfectly well with other humanoid races, should they so choose. The three cousins, however, were from the original Witch Doctor line, a line longer and more powerful than any other, or so it was said. Their mothers were full Vallian, though the fathers were both human, with no powers of their own. All three had been born in their cub and kit forms, looking more like kittens than babies, though within days had taken on a fully human form. Their mothers spent their time in a half-and-half form the leant more toward the human side. They were digitigrades, with a light dusting of fur on their elbows and ankle-area, and had long, bushy tails, and furred ears. They had kept human faces, though their eyes had slit pupils.

While being trained, the three had been made to spend all their time in their anthromorphic feline forms, but these days kept themselves fully humanoid.

I suppose you’re growing rather bored with this, aren’t you? Fine, fine. We’ll get to the action then.

..x..

If they had known what New York City, or Las Vegas, or LA, were, then they probably would have compared DJ City to one of those. But they didn’t, because they had rarely ever heard of Earth. If they had, they would have told you that the City was so much better than anywhere on Earth. You see, DJ City was the party capitol of the world. Whatever your vice, fetish, or hobby, you could find accommodations for it in DJ City. The city never slept, never quieted down, and the excitement never waned. So it was no surprise then that it was made up mostly of teenagers, and those who wished they were teenagers. It was also the melting pot of planet Holic, and if you lived in or visited DJ City, you’d probably seen it all, from blob things on street corners, to dragons stepping over hover mobiles, to pixies giggling on top of street signs.

Cy was lounging lazily on the steps of their apartment building, playing some card game with two preteen humanoid bears. One had a unicorn horn sprouting from the middle of its forehead, but Cy didn’t seem to notice. She threw a few more coins down onto the rapidly growing pile and drew a card. Smirking, she flashed her cards at them. If she had known what poker was, she would have known she had a full house, but as it was, she had won their game, and therefore the coins on the step. The two boys pouted, and asked if she’d like to play again, but she was spared her answer as pounding footsteps approached. Astrid burst into view, running top speed, and leaping over the three heads of the stair loungers. The two younger anthros laughed and clapped, and Astrid saluted them before darting inside. Gathering her money, Cy followed.

“You’re home early,” she observed, watching him strip out of his work uniform. He reeked of grease and fries, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah. I know,” he offered no explanation, “Where’s Kissyface?”

“Kismet is… well. Actually I didn’t ask her where she was going. She left about an hour ago,” Cy shook her head as Astrid wandered off into the kitchen, and bent down to pick up his discarded clothes. He had a bad habit of walking around their apartment in just his boxers, “She probably went to get food, and then go on in to work,” she offered, just as Astrid walked out of the kitchen.

“No wonder. There isn’t a single thing to eat in here.”

Sighing, Cy gathered up a few other dirty clothes and went down to the apartment basement to do their laundry. They lived in a pretty rundown area, but it was the best they could afford. Although when she thought about, an apartment where most of the lights flickered, the water rusted the sinks, the carpet was molded, and the fake wood paneling was falling off the wall being the best they could afford, that was pretty sad.

They really didn’t have much to live off of though. Astrid worked at a fast food joint a few blocks away, and Kismet worked as a bartender just around the corner. Granted, Astrid’s job got them free food during his shift, and Kismet’s job got them into the club and got them free drinks [a very good thing for Cy who was not yet 21] it was still lame where they had to live. Although, if Cy could actually hold a job, it’d be so much better. Sadly, she had a short temper and an extreme dislike for most of society. It helped and hurt that she was a jack-of-all-trades. She could do just about anything if you taught her; the only problem was someone could always do it better.

She flopped down on the cracked plastic chairs, and watched the dryer in front of her spin hypnotically. The laundry room was empty; the only noises were the hum of the vending machines, with their faded fronts, the buzzing of the flickering lights, and the gentle pounding of all the washers and dryers. There were raised voices coming from the room above her head, but she paid no attention.

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, though hardly noticeable, and a small, white draconic creature popped into existence. It was a fire lizard, though it would answer better to Gaz than to fire lizard. She was from Falas Weyr, not that Cy had ever been there or even knew where it was. She’d won the egg in a bet with a few dragon riders that were passing through.

“Chi?” Gaz chirped, and Cy held out an arm, allowing the fire lizard to settle lightly on her forearm. She had a note tied to her back leg, and Cy gently pulled it open and unfurled it as Gaz scrambled her way up onto Cy’s shoulder, burrowing into Cy’s thick hair.

It was from Kismet. She had indeed gone to get food and then gone into work. Cy raised an eyebrow.

“And what took you so long to deliver this?” she asked. Gaz looked up at Cy sheepishly from under her eye ridges, and projected an image of another fire lizard, much larger, and an impressive bronze color. Cy snorted, “Kismet rubs off on you too much,” she teased, and then stood, ignoring the way Gaz’s claws pricked her neck at the unexpected movement. Cy made her way back up the many flights of stairs, bored already with watching the machines.

When she opened the door to their apartment, she was assaulted with the sound of Astrid singing. Ok, so you couldn’t really call it assaulted, because he could sing… but not well enough that anyone in his or her right mind would offer him a record deal. Gaz took flight, darting about the apartment in search of a treat, or Astrid, whichever came first.

A cry from the other room told Cy that Gaz had found her target, and was performing her ritual Pulling-Of-Astrid’s-Hair-To-Make-Him-Make-Funny-Noises.

..x..

Cy leaned herself over the bar and snatched up the shot glass, throwing it back before Kismet could walk over. The older girl seemed to know her too well though, and shot her a glare. She walked gracefully over, and swatted at Cy’s hands, “Wait until my back is better turned, wouldya? You only have a glowing yellow x on your hand,” she snapped, referring to the mark placed on everyone in the club too young to drink. Cy shot her an apologetic grin, even though she really wasn’t apologetic at all.

Gaz came to a skidding stop on the wet surface of the bar, and Cy got the feeling she chirped, though she couldn’t hear it above the pounding bass and shouts of the masses of people. Gaz nipped at her finger to get her attention, and Cy noticed she had a napkin clutched in her front claws.

‘Find me’ was written in Astrid’s barely legible hand, but it was a writing Cy knew all too well, considering all three of them had the graffiti/barely legible handwriting. She grumbled, and scanned the crowd. Where oh where could her brother be?

“Couldn’t be a little more specific, could you?” she grumbled to herself. She turned to see if Gaz was still on the counter, but the fire lizard had darted off again, “Damnit.”

She set off, pushing through sweaty bodies, groping bodies, hair bodies, some bodies, no bodies, and alien bodies. She got slapped in the face with a tail, had her butt pinched a few times, was whistled at, and she got the feeling that the one shark dude had been talking dirty to her in whatever language he spoke as he leered at her. As if his beady eyes weren’t creepy enough already.

Growling in frustration, she moved the wall, and began combing the tables with her eyes. She finally spotted her brother, and stalked towards him. She had planned on slapping him upside the head, but importunely he saw her coming and wrapped an arm around her should, whirling her around to face three people. Two were male, one was female, and none were human. The girl was an anthromorphic rabbit, if her wriggling nose, fuzzy, floppy white ears, cotton ball tail, and fuzzy white digitigrade feet. Cy shivered unnoticeable. She hated rabbits with a passion; ever since that rather large bunny-dragon had decided it wanted to be a lap dragon and decided Cy’s lap was a good place to test that theory. She had sky blue eyes and childish features, and was wearing a bright neon blue handkerchief style top, with a glowing purple diamond shape on the front of it, and overly large blue jeans, with neon paint splatters all over them that were glowing in the blacklights overhead. She noticed Cy staring and raised an eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“No,” Cy snapped, “Had some bad experiences with rabbits. Hi there, my name is Cy.”

The female looked her up and down, “Mine’s Eve. I knew a Cy, back at Renaissance Castle.”

“Interesting,” Cy nodded, but she looked anything but.

The two males looked related to Cy. Both were digitigrades with doggish features. The taller of the two towered over Cy, probably around six foot five if she was guessing right, but he was probably shorter in his humanoid form. If he had one. He had white-silver skin, the kind that glowed in the moonlight, and a sexily toned body. The fur around his elbows and legs was a charcoal gray, and looked silky. He had the typical furred ears, but his face was completely human. He had a beautiful face, though one not as girlish as Astrid’s. He had high cheekbones, and narrow, ice blue eyes; almost clear they were so pale. He had shaggy, yet silky, shoulder length black hair, though two shockingly blue strands fell from behind his ears. His top lip was average, but he had that full, sexy bottom lip, and a barely there mustache. Dressed in a black mesh tank top, and black leather pants, he had a curved, Husky style charcoal gray and white tail, though his was fuller and bushier than any she’d ever seen. She quickly turned her attention to the other male. While the first was obviously wolf in origin, this one was something very furry. He had large, auburn ears that flopped over at the tips, and long, silky fur on his elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. His hands were more pawlike than the first boy, and his skin was an olive-mocha color. He had wide, almond shaped gold eyes, and a lopsided smile. Unruly red-brown hair fell about his face and shoulders, almost like a mane, and he wore a white tank top and tight blue jeans. He wriggled his fingers at her in a wave.

“These are Chronyc and his homeboy Helios,” Astrid said, “They come into the Joint a lot after work.”

“Hi hi!” Helios was like an overactive puppy, Cy could already tell that. Chronyc had yet to speak, just kept staring at her. She tilted her head and he seemed to snap out of it, “Yo.”

“So,” Astrid grinned, “Who wants to dance?” as if to tell them they should agree, a new song with a heart pounding beat started. Eve clapped her hands and grabbed Helios’s wrist. Astrid grinned and grabbed Cy’s wrist and Chronyc’s upper arm, dragging them out to the center of the dance floor. She scowled; she hated dancing with new people. Oddly enough, she was just fine dancing around strangers, but with new people? Creepy. Astrid moved behind her, and Cy fell into step with him. Call them sick, but she, Astrid, and Kismet almost always danced together, unless someone could match them. They’d known each other their whole lives, and moved subconsciously in sync with each other. Eve and Helios were dancing just across from them, and Chronyc was slowly warming up to the beat.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, the way he moved, and was pleased to see that when he finally let go, his movements were neither award nor jerky, but fluid and graceful, as though it was the music itself moving him. Her eyes widened when Astrid pushed her towards him, and widened even more when Chronyc caught her and brought her back to his chest. Her movements faltered, for a second, before she was moving in sync with him. Astrid moved to the front of her, his back to her chest as he pulled Eve against him, therefore creating a gyrating chain.

The night quickly grew late, as Kismet got off work and joined them on the dance floor, and Cy had long since lost track of how many dances she had danced with Chronyc. The other dances moved around them like the ocean tide, crashing forward and rolling back, and every now and then a dancer would try their luck at falling into sync with the six dancers under the strobe light but all failed to match their rhythm.

..x..

The three hadn’t returned to their apartment that night, but instead to Eve’s spacious penthouse, and it had been the beginning of an interesting friendship. Cy had never been more frustrated in her life, and was despising the day she’d ever met Chronyc. Currently, she was with his father, the First in Command of DJ City Dragonry. They were sitting in his office as he perused some papers on his desk. She’d met him almost a month ago, and Galileo had become almost like a father to her. His long-winded, sidetracking ways when giving advice amused her greatly, and he was full of interesting facts and knowledge. He’d raised Chronyc alone after his wife had passed away, and taught the teen the dragon rider lifestyle. Chronyc didn’t yet have a dragon of his own, but was still Second in Command of the Dragonry.

She politely cleared her throat, and Galileo looked up, “Oh yes. Cy. How are your cousins?” he asked, “Staying out of trouble I hope?” she nodded, and crossed her legs. Around the Dragonry, she tended to let a little more of her Vallian side out, since she blended in just as well here as a human in the city.

“Still living in that rat hole?” she nodded again, but wrinkled her nose.

“Well, I have a favor to ask of you. Seeing as your two cousins are currently employed; though I’ll extend this offer to them as well; I was wondering if you’d mind taking on a job here at the Dragonry?”

Leaning back in her chair, she studied him out of the corner of her eye, “What kind of job?” she asked.

“Well, we’re looking to get more off world dragons here. Don’t look at me like that, we really don’t have enough. And we recently received word that Mirus is having a very interesting clutch. Multiple limbs. They’re looking for some sponsors, so I was wondering if you’d like to become a DJ City sponsor. Travel to new planets, make new friends, and bring home dragons, all that rot. What do you say?”

“Well, besides traveling, what exactly is in it for me?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“For one thing, the dragons you bring back will be under your care and responsibility. I’ll give you your own rooms here at the Dragonry, and if your cousins decide to take on the job as well, then you’ll be moved into a bigger complex so that you won’t have to be separated. I’m also willing to give you a monthly allowance of sorts,” he steepled his fingers over his desk and watched her.

To Cy, any money was good money, and any place to stay other than her apartment was heaven. She grinned and held out her hand, “So I’m going to Mirus, eh?”

Galileo explained her complete job to her as he led her into the labs in the Dragonry, to be surgically implanted with a language translator chip, and to be photographed for her ID.  

..x..

"Could you... possibly not allow um... your pet to ooze all over my floor?" Galileo wrinkled his nose at the orange... blob that was inching around his nice rug, leaving an iridescent orange trail behind it. Eve was sitting calmly in the chair in front of his desk, and rolling her eyes, she clapped her hands and bent down. The thing didn't seem to have a name, because she never called it by one. It slimed it's way over to her, beady little eyes wide and unblinking, and she stroked the top of, what Galileo could only assume was, it's head.

It made an odd purring noise, and then she picked it up, placing it on top of her head, where it seemed to wrap itself around her ears, like some demented hat. It seemed to not longer be all oozey, and she smirked, "All you have to do is pet him."

Snorting, Galileo shuffled some papers on his desk, before settling more comfortably in his seat.

"So. Eve. You're a genetic scientist, and former Zaloren breeder, correct?" She nodded.

"And you're still quite interested in genetics and all things... weird. Correct?" Another nod. He nodded too, and shuffled his papers again, withdrawing a few photographs and pushing them towards her. She raised an eyebrow, and then glanced at them. Her eyes widened, and a rather creepy grin spread across her face.

"What are they and where do I go to get one?" she was shaking with almost uncontrolled excitement. Galileo chuckled.

"They're a rather accidental Sa'enkeyn batch, and they need sponsors to care for and raise them. You've made it clear that you currently have no interest in bonding, but you agreed to work for me as a doctor, scientist, and in the event we needed one, a sponsor. These little guys seem right up your alley, and they'd be the first of their kind to make an appearance here at DJ City Dragonry."

"So it'll be mine right? I can raise it, train it, be it's best friend in the whole world?" she was leaning forward on the edge of her seat, and as she spoke, the orange blob on top of her head was jiggling like jello. Galileo nodded his head. She grinned, a little creepier than her first.

"Here that blobby? Aisling?" at the last name, a ball of pure fluff stuck it's head out from somewhere around her legs, under her lab coat. Galileo blinked, "How many creatures do you currently have hidden on your person?" he asked sarcastically. She held up two fingers. Aisling, a Selampotato-Zalor mix had crawled up into her lap, and if Galileo had thought the blob's beady little eyes were creepy, then Aisling's large, shiny, unblinking eyes were horrifying. They were so... blank... and... shiny. He blinked and turned his attention back to Eve.

"Well. I suggest you find out as much as you can about Sa'enkeyns and Enkeyns before you go off gallivanting around and trying to nab one for yourself... And stay out of trouble."

"Sure the Pops," the morphic bunny scientist winked at the aging dragon rider and disappeared, a ball of fluff clinging desperately to her midsection and a blob of orange goo resting on her head.

... that was one odd girl.

..x..