IMAGES
Prolog
Neste departed the banquet and strolled down the now-empty lanes towards home. The cobbled streets hurt her bare feet but she shrugged it off; the Ambassador’s sanction was lifting and she could feel her cells begin to hum once more, a sure sign that she’d be able to shake away her current imposed form. The Swithwardian Embassy loomed ever closer.
It was much like the other structures found in Dyste although Neste thought it bleak and foreboding; the lifeless stone building sat squarely between the lush vegetation imported from home. The garden was the property's only saving grace, or so Neste believed, and the abundance of birds, small creatures and insects brought her comfort. The inside of the embassy would be cold physically and psionically despite the welcoming furnishings. Neste loathed any time spent indoors. She let herself in through the back gate and took the garden path to the servant’s door to the kitchen, breathing in the scent of late season roses and clematis.
Neste flicked the switch and groaned as the bulb overhead winked itself out of existence. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark, millions of rods working in tandem with the tapetum lucidum behind her retinas. She stared at the bulb without any idea of how to heal it, and so she left it alone.
She plugged in her toaster - a clever gift from the Pilkingtons - and fed it bread as instructed. It seemed content so she proceeded down the dark hall to her quarters. She stuffed her other gifts into a drawer and reflected upon the beings she'd met that day. Most of them had been lovely to interact with and she had grown fond of all of them, especially the Velociraptors and the representative from Agymnum. It was ironic that they were the ones she was most afraid of upon first meeting yet the ones who were the most open about their backgrounds and worlds. Neste prized those qualities above all else.
Brother Itum in particular had fascinated her. The cyborg… or ‘transhuman’ as her people would label him… spoke with passion about the University. His ferver mirrored her own love for the Academy of Technology. Neste wasn’t foolish however; she had the distinct impression that Itum wasn’t one to be trifled with even though he had been benevolent towards her.
Neste rummaged around until she found a clean shirt and pants. She dragged herself off to the shower and paused to consider her reflection in the mirror. It was dreadful. Ambassador Sage had suppressed her reptilian DNA to prevent her from tearing apart the Narnian representative. Her drowsy cells were struggling to overcome the change. Her hand touched her ear, pulling on it gently but it remained pathetically small. "Not yet but soon", she said in anticipation of restoring herself to physical normalcy.
The Ambassador was alive and well according to the tethered bond they shared, but she didn’t expect him to come home within the hour. Thank goodness, she told herself, because I just can’t deal with him when he’s this damn drunk and bitchy. The construct was in no mood to lay out his things or turn down his bed. She sighed, fully aware that he would be cross with her.
The Davenport chair in front of the kitchen window looked inviting enough and offered a pleasant nighttime view of the garden. She pulled back the drapes and opened the widow to let in the soothing nocturnal music of nature, and then picked up the book loaned to her by Velocidoctor and flopped onto the plaid cushion. She nodded off a moment later, the unread copy of The Ends of Civilization dropping to the garishly tiled floor as she curled up in the chair.