Work in Progress, Part 1

He stood, cigarette dangling limply from his fingers, blood seeping down his wounded arm, turning the filter a sick red color, snuffing out the burning ember of life, even as his own ember slowly faded. How he came to stand here, perched high above the courtyard to the Imperial Palace, staring down at the crowd below, oblivious to his presence, scurrying in their daily duties. His robes, the deep blue of an elven noble, shifted, the right arm clinging stickily as he tossed aside the smoke, it wasn’t even worth the effort anymore, times were changing and the tobacco crops grew rougher and rougher each harvest.. “Ah well.” Hitching his robes, he stepped forward, leaping from the parapet and rushing towards the crowd below. His hair, black as raven wings, fluttered behind him, revealing pointed ears, the crowd of elf and man, seya’dune and troll coming ever closer.1

A mixed family, Elf and Seya’dune walked by, their child looking up, squeaking out a surprised, “Momma!” felinoid tail whipping as she was scooped up by her elven mother. Several members of the group screamed, and scattered, as the elf landed, bones cracking as he sprawled, head cocked at an odd angle. Turmoil arose as the guards rushed forward, shouldering citizens aside, rushing to the elf. A cry went up, and the guards spread out to search for a murderer, for the Emperor’s prime minister lay dead, cold eyes locked on those of the child who had first given voice to alarm, a half-breed known as Keyla…2

“Keyla!”  An elven woman, young and spry despite her age of three hundred, looked about, wringing her hands in her apron, “Where are you child!”  Sighing, she brushed auburn hair from her face and started out towards the trees, wondering why the girl could not be less adventuresome.3

Keyla, who was in fact perched high up in one of the trees, sighed. While father understood her need to prowl and climb, even encouraging it sometimes, mother still worried, thinking she would never be a fine upstanding young lass. Well, she was right, Keyla wouldn’t. Let other girls simper and wink at the boys, trying to get a husband singled out, Keyla could quite easily take care of herself, as she had proven when father registered her in the last hunting competition.4

“Key-la!” Mother was dragging out her name, making it sound like some sort of stupid lowing. Father never called her Keyla, only kitten, which made her giggle, sine she looked more elven than Seya’Dune, but he was getting to be an old tom, and she let him have his little jests. “Keyla! Come down from there this minute!” mother stood at the foot of the tree, tapping the toe of her soft leather boot angrily. “You have baking to attend to!”5

With a soft sigh, Keyla closed her book of stories, claws skittering lightly across its hard surface as she looked over the branch, tail uncurling from her leg, “Yes mother….” Ears twitching she leaned over, and fell, catching her self and leaping spryly from bough to bough until she landed, level footed and beaming,  heart beating from the pleasure of the controlled fall, so much like flying.6

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Mother grabbed her ear, much to Keyla’s dismay and discomfort. “Baking, now, we have thirty loaves of bread to prepare for the harvest dance tomorrow night, and you have to bake your gift cake for a young man.”7

“Mother!” Keyla groaned, “I am not going to dance! I’m going to take the bread then father agreed to take me fishing, Seya’Dune style.” Dusting her hands off on her trousers, she stuffed her book into the small carry bag at her side, an old messenger’s satchel she had bought and repaired, to avoid getting a more feminine purse.8

“Your father is spoiling you dear.” Her mother sighed, and released Keyla’s ear, turning her daughter to face her, hands on the young woman’s shoulders, “You’re almost the age to marry, and you still act like a tomboy! Don’t you want a happy life and to have a family?” she could not understand it; her daughter WAS half elven, so why would she want anything other than the life of peace. “Just imagine, a pretty little daughter for you to raise.”9

“I’d really rather not…” Keyla sighed, rolling her eyes, “I love you momma, but I don’t want your life, I want adventure, action, the chance to see the world!” they had this conversation before, and she braced herself for the next part.10

“If you want to see the world, just marry a nobleman!” Her mother sighed exasperatedly, “And see it from a coach, looking out at all the lovely scenery, where nothing can befall you.” Why did Keyla insist on this madness? She blamed Aedun; he filled their daughter’s head with crazy ideas.11

“Mother, I’m thirty five, not exactly a child anymore.” She looked eighteen, but that was just the elven blood in her, “I can defend myself, I know the bow, the sword, and father taught me Seya’Dune tribal fighting, I even made my own battle claws.” She didn’t like arguing with her mother, but the dear woman, aside from her love of a Seya’dune, was a very proper Elf.12

“You are a young lady of elven blood.” Her mother brushed back locks of silky hair from Keyla’s face, “Even if you did get some of your father’s traits.” One hand traced a delicately furred ear, and Keyla ducked away, not liking the regretful look in her mother’s eyes.13

“I’m an adult and can do what I please.” She nodded firmly, and her mother sighed, giving in and taking control at the same time.14

“Alright, alright, you’re an adult, but as long as you live under my roof, you follow my rules, and you’re going to dance tomorrow night!” Eyeing her daughter, defying her to argue, she placed her hands on slender hips, and nodded, sealing the conversation.15

“Fine!” Tail bristling; Keyla stalked of towards the house, fists balled in anger. Reaching her home, she kicked open the door and stormed up to her room, her father, Aedun, looking up from the fishing net he was mending, “What’s wrong Kitten?” her father, who looked like a humanoid panther, queried. He suspected he knew, but thought it best to always look before leaping.16

“Mother!” his daughter snapped at him, and stalked up the stairs to her room, tail held straight and stiff as a broom handle, “The nerve of that woman, insisting I find myself a husband!”17

“You could always look for a wife...” He suggested, then turned innocently back to his net to hide the smirk on his face.18

“Father! Are you against me too?!” tugging at her hair, Keyla chewed her lower lip,19

“Of course kitten, I’m your father, it’s an imperial law we gang up on our children.” Nodding, shoulders rolling in laughter, he kept his voice level, “I’ll talk to Nel, no worries, and yes, you’re going to the harvest and selling my bread.” Looking over his shoulder, he winked an eye, the same amber gold as Keyla’s, though hers had not inherited the slitted pupils.20

Smiling despite herself, she stuck out her tongue, and continued on to her room, still angry but somewhat mollified. Her room was not the typical collection of sewing projects, dresses, and artwork that most girls’ were, instead, her walls boasted a longbow cut to her length and compound in the Seya’Dune tradition, the thing actually being her father’s. Next to that hung her quiver and barbed arrows, short sword, and sword-belt.  On her small table sat the battle claws she worked on, steel blades that capped her own natural claws, and ending in almost needlesharp points. She sighed, and dropped onto her bed, urling up, ears twitching gently as she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of fresh washed linen. It was hard, trying to make both her parents, Aedun the easy going cat, and Nelshinarae the prim and proper elf, happy, but Keyla always tried her hardest, even if things didn’t always go easily.Rolling over, she lay her arm across her face, and sighed, slowly drifting off into a light doze.21